The Trouble With Honor (The Cabot Sisters #1)

Honor looked at her mother. Lady Beckington was smiling serenely. “You mustn’t keep the earl waiting, darling. That will only make him more determined.”


Truer words had never been spoken, and with newfound strength, Honor surged forward, wrapped her arms around her mother and held her tight. When she let go, she looked at Prudence. “How do I look?”

“A fright,” Prudence said.

“Good.”

She swept out of the room, marching down the corridor, then pausing at the top of the stairs. He was standing there, his legs braced apart, his arms folded over his chest. He had the growth of a beard on a clenched jaw. Her heart leaped, somersaulting in her chest. “Easton!” she shouted down at him.

His head came up. Augustine was standing to one side, looking as if he might faint. “Honor!” Augustine cried, “I tried to turn him away, but he’d not go!”

“He’ll go,” she said confidently, and ran down the stairs, her feet landing silently on the marble floor as she marched up to him, Prudence right behind her.

“What do you want?” she demanded. “Haven’t you done enough? As Augustine has said, I do not wish to see you. I’ve said all that I have to say to you, so, go!”

“Good God, someone should have taken you in hand many years ago,” he said flatly, his gaze traveling the length of her. “What did you think, Cabot, that you would dance into Southwark and force me to your will? That you would cheat to get your way?”

“You cheated?” Prudence exclaimed.

Honor ignored her. “What would you have had me do? You are so convinced of your own inferiority, it makes you blind and deaf to all reason!”

He took a menacing step forward. “Allow me to instruct you for a change, madam. Generally, it is the gentleman who makes the offer for the hand in marriage.”

She folded her arms. “Unless the gentleman is as stubborn as an old pig.”

A light sparked deep in his eyes. “And the gentleman generally makes the offer with an idea of how he might support the woman when she becomes his wife. Am I right, Sommerfield?” he demanded without looking at Augustine.

“Me?” Augustine squeaked.

“Yes, you!” Easton bellowed, his gaze locked on Honor’s.

“It is, yes, most certainly it is,” Augustine quickly agreed.

Honor’s eyes narrowed with her ire. “Is there a point to your call, sir? You have rejected my declarations not once, but twice. Am I to be rebuffed a third time? If that is your intent, it is not necessary, for I heard you quite plainly the first two times!”

“The first two times you assumed the role of the gentleman in this affair between us. I was not in a position to make that offer, Honor, but did that give you the slightest pause? No—you insisted on shaming me in front of all of London.”

Honor gasped with outrage. “Shame? You will talk to me of shame?” she cried, her hands curling into fists as she rose up on her toes.

“No one invited you to Southwark. In fact, my recollection is that several told you to leave!”

“Sometimes one must take matters into her own hands!”

“Oh,” he said, almost jovially. “And we’ve all seen how well taking matters into your hands has done for you, have we not?”

She gaped at him. “At least I’m not afraid.”

“I never feared you!” he cried to the ceiling. “But I was not prepared for you. I don’t know that I shall ever be prepared for the likes of you, Honor Cabot, but nevertheless, I have done my best by seeking employment—”

“You see? You insist on making things impossible!” Honor cried, poking him hard in the chest.

“Employment!” Augustine said, confused.

“And I have obtained it.”

Honor had no idea what he was talking about. “Obtained what?”

“Employment, I think,” Prudence said, sounding as confused as Augustine looked.

“That’s right,” Easton said, nodding. “I have sought employment. I am the new agent at Mr. Sweeney’s offices. I lost my fortune, and I could not provide for you, Honor. Now, at the very least, I can provide you a modest home. I can feed you. I might even feed one or two more of the virtues,” he said, gesturing at Prudence. “I can clothe you...somewhat. But I cannot allow you to buy bonnets for eight bloody pounds.”

“Pardon...what?” Honor said, as her heart began to flutter in her chest.

“And I must warn you, this loss of fortune may happen again and again. I live my life by taking risks. Sometimes my pockets are full. Sometimes they are not.”

Honor’s fluttering heart changed tempo. It began to race, feeling as if it might lift her off the ground.

“Do you understand?” he demanded, taking her by the elbow.

“Yes,” she said, her voice full of wonder. “I understand that this is a very bad offer for my hand.”

Easton smiled. “Do you still feel the same?” he asked softly. “Can you accept what I am telling you?”