The Trouble With Honor (The Cabot Sisters #1)

In the receiving room, Mr. Cleburne indicated she should take a seat, but he remained standing, his hands at his back, his head lowered. He looked almost as if he were offering up a prayer until he lifted his head and said, “Miss Cabot, I should very much like to express my good opinion of you—”

“Oh, Mr. Cleburne,” Honor said, and quickly stood, turning at first toward the bookshelves and then toward the hearth, half walking, half stumbling there, her hands clutched at her abdomen.

“Please, hear me,” Mr. Cleburne said. “It is no secret to you that your family desires a match—”

She steadied herself with a hand to the mantel, her thoughts racing around what exactly she would say.

“But I cannot, in good conscience, extend an offer for your hand in marriage.”

“Oh, Mr. Cleburne, I do so appreciate...” Honor paused as his words sunk in. She raised her head and looked at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“Please, don’t be cross,” he said quickly.

“Cross!”

“I’ve had time to reflect,” he rushed, “and I have come to the conclusion that we are not suited to one another.”

Honor had not once imagined that Mr. Cleburne would not want to offer for her.

“I do not mean to...to hurt you,” he said, clearly looking for the right word, “but I cannot help but think that it would be a grave mistake.”

Honor was so surprised, so relieved, that a burst of mad laughter escaped her. She instantly clamped a hand over her mouth.

Mr. Cleburne smiled. “I had rather hoped you might feel the same.”

“I beg your pardon, Mr. Cleburne. I am certain you will make a fine husband—”

“And you a fine wife—”

“But you are right, we are not suited.”

He laughed again, with great relief. “I felt certain you were not in favor of the match, but then again, Sommerfield has been rather insistent.”

“Augustine? Or Miss Hargrove?” Honor asked with a bit of a smile.

“Lord Sommerfield. I understand that Miss Hargrove’s family is rather keen to see you all properly matched and wed, but your stepbrother is fond of you. He has in mind that you suffered heartbreak in the hands of Lord Rowley and had lost your confidence along the way.”

Honor blinked. That was rather astute of Augustine. “It’s true,” she admitted. “I did suffer, but it was my doing. And...I seem to have found my confidence again.” She put a hand to her heart and laughed with relief. “You can’t imagine how I’ve dreaded this moment—”

“So have I,” he said. He looked at his hands. “I have particular esteem for a young woman in my church.”

“Oh,” Honor said, smiling.

He grinned and shrugged. “However, when one’s benefactor suggests a match, one does not ignore it.”

“Yes,” Honor said, smiling. “I understand completely.”

He smiled. “What of you, Miss Cabot? Is there anyone in particular?”

She thought of Easton today, his expression haggard, the dark circles under his eyes. “There is,” she admitted sheepishly. “But I am waiting for him to realize it.” How different her feelings for George were compared to what she’d had for Rowley. Her feelings now were so much deeper, so much more complex. She believed Easton’s feelings for her ran just as deep, if only he could find the courage to admit it!

Mr. Cleburne laughed. “I am certain he will come around.”

“What do you think, Mr. Cleburne? Would you give up this,” she said, gesturing to the opulent room they stood in, “for love?”

“This?” he asked, looking around them. “What do you mean, the brick and mortar?”

What, indeed. Honor smiled. “Something like that.”

“You are a handsome woman with a fine heart, Miss Cabot. My best wishes for a happy future. Shall we go and explain our decision to your brother?”

“I think we ought,” she said, and took the hand he offered her.

*

THE PERSON WHO took Honor’s news the hardest was not Augustine, as Monica might have guessed, given how hard he’d worked to convince the vicar that Honor was the perfect match for him. It was her mother. She cried out at the news, then paced about the small parlor where Monica sat and her brothers watched, muttering all the things she found objectionable about Honor Cabot.

The list was longer than Monica had realized.

As for Monica, the fight had gone out of her. She was happy with Augustine, secure in their affection for one another. She’d come to realize that she didn’t really mind if the Cabot sisters were about. “It’s really not such a bad thing,” Monica said in an effort to soothe her mother. “Someone will offer for her.”

“Not before she’s spent her stepbrother’s inheritance! And honestly, Monica, I think you don’t realize how difficult it will be to find four husbands with a mad mother.”

“Mamma!” Monica exclaimed and looked nervously at her brothers, who were not generally praised for their ability to keep secrets.

“Well?” her mother angrily demanded. “There’s something quite wrong with her. It’s very obvious. No one will want to introduce the possibility of madness into their family, will they? You’ll be shackled with the lot of them all of your days.”