Lady in Red (42 page)

“My goodness,” Cassandra said, her gaze softening. “That is very prettily worded.”

Honoria turned away. “I am not going to wear his jewelry. I’ll send it back.”

“Of course,” Juliet said staunchly. “You will give it all back.” She removed the necklace from the box and held it to her throat. “Or you could save it for one of us. You know, that would be the thrifty thing to do.”

Olivia held her wrist to the light, the bracelet shimmering brightly. “Or you could just keep it as a sort of consolation gift. I’ve heard that men often give those to their mistresses when they tire of them.”

Portia turned at that. “Where
did
you bear that?”

“Oh leave Olivia alone.” Juliet suddenly frowned. “Where’s George?”

“He’s supposed to be in bed,” Olivia offered.

Honoria said, “Could one of you go and make certain of that? He’s being very quiet.”

Portia handed the necklet to Cassandra. “I’ll go and see. But you cannot leave until I see Honoria wearing this.”

“Of course,” Cassandra agreed as Portia left.

Honoria eyed Cassandra for a long moment. “I will not wear that. Nothing could convince me otherwise.”

“I know, but you need something with that gown, and we own nothing that is nearly grand enough. Just wear it this. evening. You can return it tomorrow.”

Honoria supposed she could at that. Besides, it was just one night. Her chest felt weighted, her legs heavy, as she realized that this was the last time she would be standing next to Marcus. The last time she’d feel his hand in the small of her back as he guided her into a room. The last time she’d see his smile or hear him laugh.

Tears threatened and she had to blink rapidly to fight them off.

All she had to do was get through this one evening. Just one. Surely she could do that.

Sighing, she held out her wrist and let Cassandra gird her for battle, for that was what it was—battle. All she had to do was force her pride to battle the inclinations of her traitorous heart.

The ball was a huge success. Carriages lined up for blocks, the huge ballroom was packed from wall to wall, the orchestra and refreshments were declared above the ordinary, and the host and hostess a shockingly handsome couple.

Honoria had arrived just before the first guest. Marcus had been waiting, his dark gaze fastened on her with an intensity she hated. It was awkward and painful and a dozen other horrid things.

But to her surprise, disappointment, and relief, he didn’t try to talk to her. Instead, his gaze lingered appreciatively over her and he said in a deep, quiet voice that she’d never looked lovelier.

Honoria had fought her tears and won. Still, it was with a heavy heart and faltering step that she took her place at Marcus’s side and began the laborious duty of welcoming then-guests.

Marcus, meanwhile, could hardly keep his eyes off Honoria. She looked beautiful—beyond beautiful. She was wearing such a gown—the red rich against her dark hair, the streak of white glowing like the rubies that sparkled against her white skin.

She was lush, breathtaking, and his. All his, dammit. And he’d do whatever it took to make her realize that. He was a man used to getting what he wanted, and this time, above all others, he was determined not to fail.

Honoria belonged to him, every glorious inch, and he’d be damned if he’d sit by and let her slip away. If his plan tonight failed, there would be another night. And if that did not work, he would try again and again. However many times it took.

In fact, if it took tonight and every night until he was old and gray, he’d make her face the truth—he did love her. More than he could say.

Still, it was torment being beside her and yet unable to hold her. He wished he could sweep her away to his bedchamber. Perhaps, soon enough, that’s where they’d be.

Until then, he tried to keep his thoughts on greeting their guests. But as they stood in the receiving line and welcomed guest after guest, each brush of her arm against his sleeve became a delicious agony.

Finally, he could stand it no more. He nodded to Jeffries, who fetched Anthony and Anna to come and take their place. Then Marcus took Honoria’s arm.

She stiffened. “Marcus—”

“Come. One dance.”

“No.”

“It’s expected, Honoria. People will talk if we don’t.”

She sighed. “Oh, very well! I suppose that since we are the hosts, we have to start the dancing.”

She allowed him to lead her through the throng. Marcus strode forward impatiently, ignoring the called greetings and other attempts to catch his gaze. Though he didn’t realize it, that caused even more attention to focus on their progress. He was a man with a purpose, his entire being focused on the woman at his side.

He led her to the center of the room and gestured to the orchestra. The talking quieted as everyone waited.

But no music came. The orchestra merely silenced, then sat waiting. Marcus took a steadying breath, his heart thudding hard in his chest. Now was the time.

“Why isn’t the orchestra playing?” Honoria whispered, plainly concerned.

“Because I asked them not to.”

Her hazel eyes widened. “Why?”

Marcus took her hand in his. “Honoria, I wish to speak to you.” He spoke clearly, his voice ringing across the ballroom.

Even more people looked their way.

Honoria began to tug on her hand, trying to free it from his grasp. “Please, Marcus, do not—”

He refused to loosen her. “No. I have something to say.”

“Marcus,” she said quietly, suddenly pale. “There is nothing left to say.”

“That is not true. And I believe, once you have heard me out, you will have a great deal to say in response.”

Her lashes trembled on her cheek. Marcus, aware that every person within hearing distance was openly listening to their exchange, was encouraged that she did not refuse to listen to him. Had she done so, he could not have blamed her.

He looked at Honoria standing before him, a vision in red silk and rubies, proud, defiant, her own woman in her own right… things that had once irritated him and now fascinated him to no end. “Honoria, I came to tell you that I have thought of what you said to me.”

Color touched her cheeks. “Marcus, I—”

“No. Just listen. Please. I didn’t answer you because I couldn’t. Because I wasn’t certain—but I am now.”

There was a moment of surprised silence, not just from Honoria, but from every person surrounding them. Marcus knew that word of this conversation would be all over town tomorrow. His and Honoria’s name would be spoken by every gossipmonger there was. At one time he would have decried such a public display. But not now. Now all he cared about was that Honoria should come home. That she would be his wife, but in more than name. In heart, as well.

He took her hand, unresisting and cold, and held it between his. “This is not easy for me to say. I have been a man alone for many years. And in that time, I made some decisions which I now realize were incorrect. I didn’t think I needed anyone in my life. I thought happiness came from success in business and that caring for another over and beyond a genteel, distant sort of love would make me less successful somehow. In a word, I was the worst kind of fool because I was wrong. Wrong, and I didn’t know it.”

Her gaze lifted to his, her eyes wide. “Marcus?”

He pulled her close and looked into her eyes, his heart curiously thick in his chest, as if aching for air. But he was breathing, the sound loud against the growing silence from around them. This was it; the moment of truth. The moment for him to make himself heard—make her understand—all the things he’d only just discovered.

Marcus opened his mouth, praying that the words might find their way out. “Honoria, you have to—”

“She doesn’t have to do anything,” came a soft but determined voice. Cassandra, dressed in the innocent white of a debutante, planted herself in front of her sister. “Honoria does not wish to speak to you.”

Honoria murmured something to Cassandra, who turned and whispered loudly over her shoulder, “No, you don’t have to speak to him if you don’t wish!” Cassandra turned back to Marcus, a surprisingly pugnacious tilt to her chin. “She doesn’t need you. We will get along just fine without you.”

Marcus raked a hand through his hair, struggling to find the words, the meaning of his feelings. It was like swimming through Yorkshire pudding, his mind and soul both fighting for expression. His gaze found Honoria’s from where she stood just behind her sister. “I was wrong, Cassandra. I love your sister. She is the other half of me and I will not rest until she knows it.”

Cassandra shook her head. “You shall not have the opportunity to hurt Honoria again. Honoria, come—”

“Miss Baker-Sneed?” Lord Melton, handsome and blond, cast an apologetic glance at Marcus, then bowed to Cassandra. “I beg your pardon, but I believe this is our dance.”

“There is no music.”

Melton held out his arm and she automatically rested her fingers on it. “Until the music begins, we can talk about my new project. The marquis has agreed to sponsor my horse breeding scheme.”

Honoria’s gaze flew to Marcus. “You did?”

Marcus smiled at her. “Melton and I agreed to the terms last night. If things go well, he will have his debt settled in less than three years.” Marcus eyed Cassandra’s hand where it rested on Melton’s arm. “Perhaps then he will be able to take on other, more important responsibilities.”

Melton bowed, a smile flickering over his face. “Yes, my lord.” He glanced down at Cassandra, a glow of emotion in his eyes. “I look forward to fulfilling all of my responsibilities, whatever they may be.”

Cassandra blushed, though she did not move from Melton’s side. She cast a hesitant glance at her sister. “Honoria, do you want me to stay and—”

“Lady Treymount is well able to take care of herself.” Lord Melton tucked her hand more firmly in the crook of his arm, attaching Cassandra to his side. “Leave your sister and her husband to their own affairs.” He glanced over Cassandra’s head to meet Marcus’s gaze. “And perhaps they’ll leave others to theirs.”

Marcus had to smile a little at that. The lad had bottom, he did, and enough grit to win back his fortune. “Lord Melton, we will speak about this later this evening. Over port, I hope.”

Melton flushed, a sparkle lighting his gaze. “I shall look forward to it. Cassandra, let us visit the refreshment table while the orchestra rests.”

“But Honoria—”

“Is fine,” Marcus said.

Cassandra reached out with her free hand and laced her fingers with Honoria’s. “Are you certain?”

Honoria squeezed her sister’s hand. “Yes.”

“Very well.” With that, Cassandra released Honoria’s hand and allowed Melton to lead her away.

Marcus turned back to his wife. “I have a gift for you.”

“A gift?”

“Yes.” He nodded to Jeffries, who stood hovering behind Honoria. The butler stepped forward and lifted a silver salver. There, in the center, sat a ruby tiara, a match to the jewelry Honoria was already wearing.

Her lips parted. “Oh my!”

He took the tiara and gently placed it on her head, where it gleamed warmly in her rich brown hair. “You once told me you weren’t the type of woman to wear tiaras. I beg to differ. You deserve tiaras and rubies and everything else life has to offer.”

“Marcus, I don’t know what to say. I can’t just—” She bit her lip, her gaze suddenly searching his. “Marcus, why are you doing this? Why?”

“Because I want you and the whole world to hear what I have to say. You said you would not believe any protestations of affection because it would only be spoken out of duty. I am not speaking out of duty.”

“Marcus, please. I—I understand. You cannot help the way you feel.”

“But I do feel,” Marcus said shortly. “And strongly, too. When you said that you loved me, I wasn’t ready to hear it. But now I know. Now I’m ready.”

The room around them faded, and all Marcus saw or heard was his wife, his beloved Honoria, who infuriated him, tortured him with her busy schemes and grand plans, who upturned his life with her busy brother and sisters, and in general made life worth living. She stood before him, resplendent in red silk, adorable in shoes that must pinch, and so beautiful that his heart ached as if pierced by an arrow.

He loved her. He loved her with his body and soul and he could not imagine life without her. The memory of his own house, cold and silent and waiting for him like a great empty shell, sent a frozen shiver through him and finally—finally— unlocked his lips.

He reached down, took his wife’s hand in his and pulled her to him. She came, unresisting, a question in her eyes— and a hint of such sadness that tears blurred his own vision for an instant. “Honoria, I was wrong about so many things. I now know how much you mean to me. How much life and laughter your sisters and brother brought to Treymount House. I want you back. I want all of you back.”

Tears filled her eyes even more. “Why?”

“Because I cannot live without you. I was just too blind to realize it.” He was using every thought he possessed to try and make her understand. But he could see from the hurt that still lingered in her eyes that he hadn’t yet convinced her. He held her tighter. “Honoria, I want to be married to no one but you.”