The Trouble With Honor (The Cabot Sisters #1)

He looked down at his tankard, away from her breasts. The girl stood a moment longer at his table before turning and swishing away.

George pushed his tankard aside. He’d lost his thirst. He couldn’t seem to rid his mind of the events of these past two days, of that astonishingly intimate interlude on the viewing balcony. He’d lost his mind that night, had allowed himself to sink into the depths of his imagination and feelings that had crept up on him, slipping under his skin.

He couldn’t seem to rid himself of the feelings. Big, thick feelings with tentacles had wrapped around his heart and were now holding it prisoner. His instinct was, as always, to ignore those feelings, to tamp them down so far that he might forget where he put them. And here he was, as tangled in thoughts and emotions as he’d ever been in his life, and he didn’t know how to get free of them.

But he had to get free of them, somehow, some way. Honor Cabot was a dalliance he could not sustain, a woman from a world he would never know. And she...

She needed to think of her future.

He put some money on the table and gathered up his cloak for the ride to Longmeadow. Why was he still here? Why had he come? Because he couldn’t stop thinking about her, couldn’t stop dreaming of her. Now he had to return to London, to important things—such as what the devil he’d do if he had indeed lost his fortune to the sea.

The sun was sinking behind the trees when George rode down the long drive to Longmeadow. It was a fine early evening; the front door was standing open, and people were walking back from the track where they had raced horses this afternoon.

He handed the reins of his horse to a young man and instructed him to have his horse ready to depart the following morning. On his way to the entrance, George happened to notice a woman draped in a cloak, the hood pulled over her head. But she was holding her arms tightly across her in a manner that he recognized. He changed course, strolling to Honor’s side. He bent his head to peek underneath her hood.

“There you are, Easton,” she said, her smile strangely vacant. “Has Longmeadow already lost its charm for you? We missed you and your purse at the races this afternoon.”

He wanted to gather her in his arms and kiss her, let her know that he had missed her, too. But he clasped his hands at his back. “Quite the contrary, Cabot. I am completely charmed by Longmeadow. What are you doing out here, alone, cloaked for winter?”

Honor glanced away, toward the lake. “Pru took Mamma for a walkabout, but they’ve not come back.” She squinted in the distance.

George understood the worry in her eyes, and the impact on him was powerful. He did not want Honor Cabot to ever feel the least bit hopeless and thought he’d go to the ends of the earth to keep her from it. “Where did they go?”

“I thought they’d gone down to the gazebo by the lake, but I’ve just come from there, and no one is about.”

“You’re sure they’ve not gone into the house, perhaps from another direction?” he asked, peering into the gloaming.

She shook her head. “I’ve searched everywhere.” She dropped her arms, her hands in tight fists of anxiety. “I’ll have another look,” she said, and started to walk away from him.

“Honor, wait,” George said, taking her elbow. “It’s almost dark. Allow me to help.” They walked down to the lake, where a streak of gold and orange from the last rays of the setting sun split the lake in half. “They cannot have gone far,” George assured her, sensing her growing unease. He wanted to put his arms around her, infuse her with his confidence. “Your sister will not have let her roam.”

“You assume my sister could keep her from it,” Honor said, her voice betraying a bit of panic. “Mamma is worse, George, so much worse. It’s as if coming here to Longmeadow somehow hastened her along. You can’t imagine!”

He couldn’t bear it. To hell with propriety and talk. George put his arm around Honor’s shoulders and pulled her into his chest. “Take heart, love,” he said. “I’ll find her. Go back to the house, go and be as happy and carefree as you can be so that no one will suspect, and I shall bring her back to you.”

“I can’t ask that of you,” Honor said wearily. “I’ve asked far too much as it is.”

“Go now,” he said, ignoring her protests. “Go before your guests think your entire family is missing. Mercy and Grace need you now.”

That seemed to give her pause, long enough that George could turn her around and give her a nudge. He had no idea where he would look for the women, especially now that night was falling. He began to move in the direction of the gazebo.

“George?”