The Trouble With Honor (The Cabot Sisters #1)

“Don’t,” he said brusquely. “I will not be swayed by your charming smile again.”


“You find my smile charming?” she asked, taking a step closer.

“I find it dangerous.” He bent over and picked up a valise. “I find everything about you dangerous.”

A strong shiver of longing skirted up her spine; Honor took another step closer. “You’ll be glad you have come, sir. You will have a very fine time at Longmeadow. I am certain of it.”

“I won’t,” he said adamantly. But his eyes were twinkling with mirth.

The man who had ridden in with him stepped up, took the valise from his hand and inclined his head at Honor.

“Oh, yes. Miss Cabot, may I present Mr. Finnegan. He claims to be a valet.”

“Madam,” the gentleman said, and walked on.

“You’ve arrived just in time, too,” Honor said to George. “There is to be a croquet tournament on the west lawn this afternoon.”

“That settles it, then—I may now expire from joy.”

Honor laughed. “I won’t have you expiring at Longmeadow. Think of the scandal! Come, I’ll show you to the house. Hardy has a room for you.”

She began to walk and Easton fell in beside her. She could feel him, his body so close to hers, the strength of him beside her. She was so enthralled with it that she was startled when Augustine suddenly bounded out the entrance with Hardy on his heels, looking very nervous as he surveyed the ladies coming up the path. “We really must hurry things along,” he said to no one in particular.

Honor guessed Monica would be close behind, and as much as she would have liked to engage Easton a bit longer, she thought she might succumb to her desire to touch him if she did not take her leave. Her thoughts began to tumble over each other as she plotted how to speak to him alone, away from prying eyes. But it was impossible to say the things that were bubbling up in her on the drive, so she called out to her stepbrother, “Augustine, look who has come!”

Augustine whirled about, squinting. And then he smiled. “Easton, yes, yes, of course! Welcome!” he said, and gestured to Hardy to follow him as he closed in on Easton.

“You’re in excellent hands, sir,” Honor said. “Hardy will see you properly situated.” She turned about before he could respond and said, “Augustine, you must tell him about croquet! Mr. Easton said he is keen to play.”

“Croquet!” she heard Augustine say. “Then you must play, Mr. Easton! We will have a spectacular course, naturally,” he added, and began to explain in enthusiastic detail the plan for croquet on the west lawn.

Honor could feel Easton’s gaze on her back as she practically skipped into the house, her step suddenly lighter, her heart still racing.





CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

LONGMEADOW WAS AS impressive as George had heard, perhaps even more so. The Beckington butler led him and Finnegan down wide, carpeted corridors that turned into more wide, carpeted corridors, each one lined with paintings and portraits that George did not have time to study, artful little consoles that held Ming vases and hothouse flowers, and all of it illuminated by sunlit windows whose velvet drapes had been tied back with thick, gold silk cords.

The guest room George would inhabit was large, with a four-poster canopied bed and a view of the forest. As he stood in the middle of the room, looking up at a ceiling that had been painted with ropes and Grecian urns, he could certainly understand that Honor would not want to lose these surroundings. He really didn’t know how exactly marriages were arranged among the very privileged, but from what he did know, he believed it was doubtful that she would marry into such opulence as this, only because there were so few families that enjoyed such wealth.

He was beginning to feel a bit foolish; he’d come here after a long internal debate. He’d told himself that he was helping Honor Cabot. His body had said otherwise. His body, his heart had said that he had to see her again. But toward what end? That was the murky mystery brewing in him.

Finnegan seemed perfectly at ease, putting George’s things away as George stood by, uncomfortable in his uselessness. He’d not wanted Finnegan to come, but Finnegan had explained to Easton that if he arrived without a manservant or valet, he’d appear out of place.

“I am out of place,” George had pointed out.