Page 16 of My Lord, My Rogue
“Yes, I realize you feel that way. But child, if everyone had only one chance to make it right in this world, do you think they would always make the right choice?”
Honora shook her head, slowly. “I imagine not.”
“There! It is impossible to make the right choices every time. Promise me you will give this a chance. You have held special feelings for this young man since you were young,” her aunt continued.
“How did you know?” she blinked back her tears and regarded her aunt.
“Ah, darling. You would speak so fondly of this specific young man whenever you visited your friend Lady Evie. It was, “Benjamin this . . . Benjamin that . . .”
“I did not realize.”
“We never do. Whenever Lord Hunter and Lord Willington teased or played with you and Lady Evie and other children you would rush over and tell me about the day you had when they visited. I was very surprised when you accepted Lord Greystone . . . Adam’s offer to marry but said nary a word. You had to be allowed to decide things on your own.”
“My parents were very excited that we had a friendship. I knew he was developing feelings, and I did nothing to discourage them, even though I knew my friend liked him. When he asked, I felt like I would disappoint them. It seemed the attention I paid him never made Lord Willington jealous, as I had hoped . . . so I reasoned . . .”
“I was afraid that was what had happened.” Violet reached over and hugged her niece. “Forgive yourself, my darling girl. You were young. You are a woman now. Trust in yourself. That is all I ask.”
She was not sure she agreed with her aunt, but Honora relented and gave her aunt a kiss on the cheek. “What would I have ever done without you, Aunt Violet? You have always been there for me.”
“I was not fortunate enough to have children of my own. You have been like a daughter I never had. My sister was never selfish in her love for you and reinforced our relationship where so few others might have done so. When you are growing up,” she once told me, “you need a parent, and your parent cannot always be your friend. They have to be the parent. She let me be your friend.”
“That is true,” Honora admitted. She had not considered this perspective.
“Pray, do not sell your parents short. They love you and have supported you every step of the way. Share your feelings with them.”
“You are so much easier to talk to . . .”
“Yet, you did not speak to me about this either. Give them a chance,” Aunt Violet reasoned. “Trust yourself, Honora. “Do not be afraid to look forward to possibilities.”
“I will try. I promise.” Honora stood. “I want to check on Oliver before Lord Willington arrives. Would you like to come with me?” She found she wanted to believe in possibilities.
“Of course! I would love to see my great-nephew. He makes me laugh, much like your uncle once did.”
Honora hugged her aunt and, together, they walked arm in arm to the nursery. “I am thinking of redoing the nursery, Aunt. What would you think of a blue for the walls?” she asked as they opened the door.
“I love blues, but I find I am partial to yellow for nurseries. It always feels like sunshine and makes me smile.”
A cacophony of giggles and yipping greeted them. Oliver leapt off his rocking horse and charged to the door. “Did you see me, Mummy? I was riding my horse. Wiggs was helping me wound up the sheep.”
“I saw that, darling.” Honora glanced about the room. “How would you feel if Mummy painted this room a pale, yellow color? We could have the sky and clouds painted on the ceiling. It might feel you are outside on the land with Riggs.”
“Weelly? Yes!” Oliver jumped up and down. “I wove welwow, Mummy.”
She turned to her aunt. “I believe the room will be yellow!”
“You need to get ready, Honora. Lord Willington should be here soon, and I imagine the man will not be late.”
Butterflies filled her stomach at the thought. Quickly she gave Oliver a kiss on the head and nodded at her aunt, before running back to her room. She needed a few more touches before she would declare herself ready. After all, it was not every day you got to spend time with the man of your dreams.
Chapter 7
“My lord, you requested an early start for your day,” Stephens, his valet, announced as he walked in, drawing back the curtains in swift, ripping movements. Sun poured into his bedroom. “Ah. This will be a perfect day, sir!”
“Stephens! I asked you to wake me, not torture me. Give me a blasted minute to adjust my eyes.” Benjamin struggled to open his eyes. The light felt torturous. “I should send you packing,” he grumbled.
Penelope lifted her head from her corner bed and yawned a loud groan, as if agreeing, causing both men to chuckle. They watched her stand and shake her body out, as she attempted to greet the day with her master.
“I do apologize, my lord. But after years of waking you, I know what works. This is the only thing,” he ripped the final green velvet drape back, “that works!”
