Page 15 of My Lord, My Rogue
Her maid turned and smiled. “I thought ye could use a little more of the morning fer yerself, ’tis all.”
“Thank you, Bridget. I find myself lost in thought this morning and unwilling to budge from this warm bed.” She chuckled. “I am so grateful for both you and Mrs. Hadley. You have made it much easier for me to manage things.”
“Yer welcome, m’lady. But that is our job,” the maid returned.
Honora bit into the toast and took a sip of the chocolate. She considered herself a hands-on mother, yet appreciated that she could rely on Mrs. Hadley’s help with Oliver.
Finishing her toast and satisfied that she had stemmed her morning hunger, Honora considered the day ahead. She would soon have a visitor—the first caller in years. Honora felt more than a little nervousness and anticipation. “You are right, of course. I should get dressed.” She tugged the covers up to her chin. “’Tis so cozy with the heavy quilt and the fire. I wish I could lay here a little longer.” Honora stretched back out, wanting to savor the feel of her warm sheets for another minute. Her mind drifted to the missive she had carefully folded and saved in her dresser drawer. Lord Willington had invited her to go for another ride, which had come as a shock.
She had sought his notice years ago and, when it did not come her way, she had made stupid decisions. Certainly, Honora knew better than to repeat that nonsense. She was no longer interested in a relationshipwith anyone.Then why was her stomach fluttering about so much?Drat those butterflies.
It could be a small mercy, or perhaps a threat, but she must face it. Her secret wasfinallyout, at least to Lord Willington and the Duke of Lancaster. Curiously, it gave her a restorative feel that she had not realized she needed, much like a balm to her soul after the mess she had made.Would life ever feel normal again?
When the men had left the house yesterday, an overwhelming feeling of euphoria had hit her. It was as if they had released her from a large, gilded cage. His Grace had forgiven her—a colossal relief to her conscience. As soon as her father found out the guardianship papers for Oliver were in place, she would feel confident about being seen in town. Until then, she planned to continue using her faded blue hooded cloak whenever trips were necessary and to keep her identity known only to a tight circle of people. Now more people knew she lived, and the secret would be more difficult to keep from the dowager marchioness.
He knew.And he had asked her to go riding today. It is funny how things work out. Growing up, Honora had always liked Lord Willington, who often came home from school with His Grace for the holidays, and frequently was seen at Evie’s house since the duke and earl were such good friends. Yet, Willington never noticed her. When Adam had offered marriage, she had accepted. What a mess she had made of things. Not only had she hurt her family and best friend but had spent three years of her life hiding—all because of pride and impatience.
“M’lady?” the maid fluffed her pillows behind her as she stood to get dressed. Bridget was efficient. “What do ye think about wearing yer burgundy riding habit today? I have it cleaned and pressed . . .”
“That sounds perfect,” she murmured, peering outside the window. “The weather is perfect today.” Biscuit would love a run in this weather.
“Yes, ma’am. ’Tis bright and dry . . . but cold. Perhaps the heavier stockings would keep ye warmer while riding.”
Bridget fussed over her health, almost like another mother. In the three years they had been here, the only doctor’s visits had to do with Oliver’s birth and his normal colds and such. Honora had been the picture of health. She snorted, suddenly realizing the irony of this since the world had thought her dead.
“Yes, m’lady?” Bridget looked up from styling her hair.
“Sorry, Bridget. I was just thinking about something I found funny.”
“Yes, m’lady.” She parted her hair and braided it. “I thought wrapping braids about yer head into a coronet would be pretty and would stay together while ye ride.”
Honora nodded and heard her bedroom door click open behind her. Soft footsteps scuffed the floor as they walked toward her.
“That looks very nice, Bridget,” Aunt Violet sounded from behind her.
“Hold for another minute, m’lady. I’ll have ye done in a thrice.”
A moment later, Bridget announced herself finished, curtseyed, and left the room, closing the door behind her.
“Getting ready for your ride, I see. You look lovely, my dear,” her aunt said, giving her a peck on the cheek. “Are you looking forward to it?”
“I am not sure, Aunt Violet.” Honora sighed. “I am still at sixes and sevens over the whole idea that he has finally asked me to go anywhere with him.” She dabbed some of her favorite rosewater on her wrists and behind her ears. “Why now? Why, when I have made a muddle of my life, does the man finally show some interest?” She turned in the vanity seat to face her aunt.
Her aunt cackled. “You are asking me how the male brain works? There’s a reason I have stayed single after the death of your dear Uncle Bernard, rest his soul. Lud, I never could understand the man. I could have an entire conversation with him about something and he would swear I never mentioned it, when asked about it later. And if he sat in his chair in his study after a meal, you could guarantee he was asleep within ten minutes.”
“I seem to recall a bit of that. As a child, I recall that he rather liked to joke and carry on. It was great fun to visit.” Honora giggled. Her aunt had a way of changing her mood.
“Your uncle was rather fond of laughter. I miss that about him,” her aunt added affectionately. She looked up. “Uncle Bernie would want you to be happy, Honora. Of that I am sure.”
“I fear I know where you are going with this, Aunt Violet. There is not a future such as that for me. I have a child and I should devote myself to his welfare… . . .”
“Poppycock,” her aunt cut her off. “You think you do not deserve to hope for a future with someone who can love you? You could not be more wrong. I watched Lord Willington yesterday and was pleasantly surprised. He did not take his eyes off you the entire time he was here. I would wager that he will ask for another afternoon or outing with you before he leaves today.”
“Oh, Auntie. I love that you want all of this for me. I have injured my reputation so badly. Lord Willington needs a woman that can enhance his lot in life, not detract from it. Perhaps I am a curiosity.”
“Pish! Glance at yourself in the looking glass, young lady. You cannot possibly see what I see, or you would not say that. You are beautiful, and since giving birth, your beauty has grown. And I am speaking of the beauty within, although you must know you are beautiful.”
A heated blush pinked Honora’s face. “It’s not that I think myself unattractive. I think myself unworthy. And I cannot trust any decision I would make. How would I know I would not choose another such as Lord Aster? I cannot inflict my bad choices on my son.” Tears pooled in her eyes and she turned away from her aunt. Aunt Violet always understood her so well, until now. Somehow, she needed to make her aunt realize that this was not courtship. Honora assumed Lord Willington had more to ask. The ride was a way to assuage his curiosity.
