The Trouble With Honor (The Cabot Sisters #1)

She had to figure things out. Yes, that was what she would do—she would return to London, settle her mother and consider all her options. There had to be a way to him.

Honor didn’t look back as she slipped out of his room, afraid to see the expression on his face, afraid of wanting him again, of saying those things he did not want to hear.

As it turned out, it was just as well she went when she did. There was much to be done, and only a few hours later, Honor and Grace found themselves struggling to put their mother into the coach. Lady Beckington was not of a mind to leave Longmeadow, which she had newly dubbed Halston Hall in her wrecked brain—a place where she’d summered as a girl but had not seen in twenty years. She was combative with her eldest daughters while her youngest two stared in horror.

The ordeal left them all exhausted and dreading the long and bumpy drive to London.

In the course of that drive, Honor’s thoughts about George grew confused. Her sunny happiness at being in love and discovering the landscape of pleasures between a man and woman had disappeared under the cloud of her mother. She and Grace were fighting an increasingly hard battle; she could see that.

Her heart’s heaviness was becoming painful.

There was so much she’d wanted to say to George last night, so many words of admiration and esteem. But now, away from him, she was glad she hadn’t said them. She mulled over what he’d said, the way he’d said it. Don’t speak. Go now. Is that what he said to the women he’d bedded? Or was there something deeper that he couldn’t face?

And what did it matter? George was right—she couldn’t be with him, no matter how she loved him. Honor had thought herself above caring what society thought, but she was discovering she wasn’t above it at all. The glow of lovemaking had dissipated, and she was growing frightened of what she felt for George, of what it meant. She understood all that she would sacrifice to be with him, and yet what she felt was perhaps the most tangible thing she’d ever felt in her life. It was real, it was powerful. It was entirely irresistible.

Honor adored George Easton. Truly, madly, adored him. But could she give up all for him? Did he even want her in the same way? And didn’t she have far greater problems at present than pining for a gentleman?

*

THE FIRST TWO days in London were unexpectedly and blessedly peaceful. Honor’s mother had calmed considerably and seemed mostly lucid once she’d returned to what was, at least for now, a familiar setting. Her only worry was when Augustine would return with the earl to London. There was only one incident, and Honor had not witnessed it. Jericho confided to her that Lady Beckington had mistaken him for a Scotsman and had threatened to see him hanged for stealing the earl’s things.

On the third day after their return, Honor was very relieved when Augustine arrived with the earl. Three footmen carried the ailing earl to his rooms, and his painful coughing once again settled into the fabric of the house. Lady Beckington, who had removed the embroidery from yet another sleeve, disappeared into his chambers to see to him.

One cloudy afternoon, Honor found Grace in a pensive mood, staring out a window, her gaze distant.

“Grace? Is something wrong?” Honor asked.

Grace curled a tress of hair around her finger as she once had done when they were girls. “I am cross with you, if you must know. I asked Jericho to give Mamma the laudanum, but you told him he should not.”

“Of course he should not,” Honor said flatly. “I can’t believe you would think otherwise, not after Longmeadow. We agreed.”

Grace’s jaw clenched. “We didn’t agree, Honor. Only you. I suppose you think we should allow Mamma to continue wandering about, muttering to herself and picking at the embroidery in her sleeves.”

“If we must,” Honor said stiffly.

Grace dropped the strand of hair and whirled about. “You’re impossible! We wouldn’t be in this predicament had you allowed anyone to court you and accepted an offer of marriage along the way! But no, you preferred to pine away for Rowley.”

“I beg your pardon? Our mother’s madness is my fault?” Honor cried indignantly.

“I didn’t say that!” Grace shot back angrily. “But were you capable of thinking of someone other than yourself, we might not be in the predicament we are today!”

Honor gaped at her sister, feeling each word slice painfully into her heart. It was dreadful enough that Honor had thought the same thing herself, but to hear Grace say it... “What of you?” she demanded.