The Trouble With Honor (The Cabot Sisters #1)

“What do you mean?”


“I don’t believe Augustine can do without her for a full year,” Honor said. “He’ll think of some way. Even if it were to take a year, how long will it be before Mamma begins to speak again and the words coming out of her mouth are as mad as her appearance? Her madness will affect us all, Pru. The only thing that has truly changed for us is that the rituals of mourning have added another complication to our lives.”

“I don’t want to say it, but...”

“But what?” Honor urged her sister.

Prudence shook her head. “I am quite worried for Mamma. I overheard Mrs. Hargrove and Augustine talking.”

A slight shiver of fear ran through Honor. “Mrs. Hargrove? Or Monica?”

“Mrs. Hargrove,” Prudence repeated, and glanced across the square to Beckington House. “She said that she worried for Mamma’s health, and, naturally, Augustine agreed. But then Mrs. Hargrove said there was a place in St. Asaph that could provide care for people like Mamma.”

“St. Asaph?” Honor said. “I’ve never heard of it.”

“Mercy and I hadn’t, either. We looked for it in the pages of the atlas. Oh, Honor—it’s in Wales! It is very far from London—it’s far from everything!”

Honor’s heart skipped a few beats.

“Miss Cabot!”

Prudence and Honor both started and glanced around. Mr. Cleburne was striding across the square toward them.

“God help me,” Honor muttered.

“I beg your pardon,” Mr. Cleburne said as he reached them. “I hope I’m not imposing. I happened to see the two of you here and thought perhaps you might like some company.”

“I was just saying to Honor that perhaps we ought to turn back. Mamma might need us,” Prudence said.

“But surely you might use a bit of fresh air,” he said hopefully, forgetting, perhaps, that London air was the farthest thing from fresh.

“Go and see after Mamma, Pru,” Honor suggested.

Prudence looked at her uncertainly, but Honor winked. “Mr. Cleburne and I will be along shortly.”

When Prudence had left them, Cleburne smiled at Honor and gestured to the walk. “Thank you, Miss Cabot.” He fell in beside her, his hands at his back. “I am grateful for this opportunity to be alone in your company, in truth,” he said. “Your family’s tragedy has necessitated my stay in London, but I really must return to Longmeadow and my flock there. I plan to take my leave a week from Saturday.”

“I’m certain your parishioners have missed you terribly,” Honor agreed.

He smiled sheepishly. “May I compliment you, Miss Cabot? I have admired your strength during this time of great sorrow. You’ve been a true pillar of comfort for your family.”

She hadn’t been a pillar of comfort in the least. She’d been stumbling about, completely lost in her grief.

“Miss Cabot, I...” He paused midstride. “Miss Cabot, I have come to esteem you,” he blurted.

Honor swallowed down a sudden lump of terror. “Thank you for that, Mr. Cleburne, but I beg you not to say more, as I am in mourning—”

“But that is precisely why I must,” he said earnestly, and reached for her hand. Honor looked at his hand. “I beg your pardon, am I too forward?” he asked.

She blinked. Were he any other gentleman, she would have laughed, for that question would have been a jest. But Cleburne mistook her hesitation for fear, and smiled reassuringly. “You have nothing to fear from me, Miss Cabot. I would protect your virtue as my own. Think of this as a touch of comfort.”

What Honor thought of was her night with George. In comparison to him, Cleburne was an unswaddled babe left in the woods.

Her silence made him nervous, she could see that. “Do you think that perhaps we might—after a suitable period of mourning, naturally—come to an understanding with one another? I’ll be frank—Sommerfield is perfectly satisfied with the idea. I know I am not a London dandy, or...or any of the men you might have consorted with prior to our acquaintance, but I am a good man, an honest man and I would cherish you all our days.”

Honor didn’t know what to say to him. She didn’t dare speak her heart for fear of angering Augustine or hurting Mr. Cleburne. But neither could she encourage him. She thought frantically as she pulled her hand free. “I can’t say that this...conversation comes as a surprise,” she said, and the poor man actually blushed. “There is much to consider, Mr. Cleburne. My sisters and my mother not the least of them.”

“Of course. They are welcome at Longmeadow.”

“You may have noted that my mother is unwell,” she said bluntly.