The Return of Lady Honoria Page 4

  The door locked shut and they were off, bouncing and rattling down the drive. Gunfire broke out as they neared the gatehouse, and they were through, barreling down the isolated country lane with Danton at the reins laughing.

  The slow, steady sway of the carriage lulled Honoria to sleep. She fell asleep curled into a thick traveling blanket and woke to find Danton cutting the corset from her.

  “You’ll feel sick for a day or two. Give it some time.”

  Honoria nodded, eyes fixed on her tightly laced fingers. What did one say in an instance like this? Danton tucked the blanket in at her sides and lifted the back of her hand to his lips.

  “Did you enjoy it?” he asked, watching her over her sadly bruised knuckles.

  “No! Yes—no, only a little.” She frowned, mouth tucked in tight. “I don’t know how I feel,” she said finally. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I was so angry at you.”

  “I gave you fair warning.”

  She pulled her hand back and curled it down into the blanket. “I’m not a child. Don’t treat me like one.”

  “This is my life, Honoria! People like this—what I do. Why the devil didn’t you stay in the country?”

  She couldn’t stop her reaction as she pulled him down to her. His coat scratched her still sensitive nipples, but she didn’t care, holding him so tight she thought she’d dissolve into his unyielding chest. She had no words and neither did he, but after a dark, uncertain minute he held her back.

  ****

  Honoria trudged down to dinner. It was turbot again, one of the few things her mother allowed Honoria to eat in excess, claiming meat made her spotty. The pale white fish was delicately poached and set en gelee, but Honoria had no appetite.

  It was Danton’s fault. After dropping her off three nights ago, he’d disappeared—off to God knew where without a word, running from her as if she was contagious.

  Drat them all and Danton.

  She was going to reach the age of majority, take her money and travel the world like Hester Stanhope. She wouldn’t be stuck eating turbot while Danton went off to do whatever it was he did without her. A tear fell off her nose. A glance down the table told her Eugenie was still wallowing in rare beef and talking about horses. Not that Honoria could make out more than an occasional word across fifteen feet of starched linen.

  Honoria quickly turned her head and dabbed her eyes with her sleeve. “I need some air.”

  “Fine,” grunted her father, “get out.”

  Which was apparently a signal because the servants removed her plate, pulled her chair back, opened the door, dumped her out and slammed the door shut again, leaving her in the hall.

  “You have an interesting family,” Danton said from where he leaned at the far end of the hall.

  Honoria tried to walk past him, but her feet started dragging until they stopped.

  “I don’t have a disgust of you,” he said. “I know that’s what you thought.”

  Honoria finally gave up and wiped her nose on her skirt. She was sure her entire face was red. She couldn’t stop crying. “I don’t care what you think! Just go away. You’re good at that, aren’t you?”

  “Honoria, for your own good—”

  “Don’t use that phrase with me! I’m sick of people telling me—Danton!”

  Danton settled her over his shoulder and locked an arm over the back of her thighs. “Moderate your tone, dear heart. We’re drawing attention.”

  “Moderate my tone? You ramshackle here and therein! Put me down before I scream the roof down.”

  Danton walked across the hall to where a door to the terrace stood open. “Perhaps you’d like to do it outside,” he said, dropping her rather inelegantly.

  Her hands clenched in the soft fabric over his rapidly beating heart and shoved him away violently. “I really did enjoy it—even the part where I wanted to beat Goliath to a bloody pulp. How can you even think of wanting me?”

  “Michel was my lover!”

  “Obviously! He all but suckled you.”

  Danton made a strange noise, choking and snorting until he sank to the ground, face buried in his hands. There was very little light and the soft, distant clatter of carts made the rear of the house feel isolated.

  Honoria knelt beside him surprised to find she was crying. “Danton?”

  “It doesn’t bother you?”

  “You told him it’s over. It’s his own fault if he can’t listen.”

  He pulled her into his arms and held her convulsively.

  “Ouch!” she said.

  “Sorry,” he murmured. “Still hurt?”

  “I suspect it’s a little bruised,” she said, lifting his hand back to her breast.

  “I’m glad I went to that house party,” he said after a long minute. “For better or for worse, love—you’ve thrown your lot in with mine. And it might be selfish of me, but I’m grateful.”

  Honoria shivered. “Don’t jinx us.”

  “Not a jinx, Honoria.” Danton’s lips touched hers. “A blessing.”