The Trouble With Honor (The Cabot Sisters #1)

He smiled. “I would consider it my Christian duty to help in any way that I might.”


Of course he would. She nodded, her mind spinning, her thoughts on George, who had told her flatly that her love for him was “impossible.” She should accept Cleburne’s offer, should accept the truth of her life as George had so boldly told her to do, and yet...yet she couldn’t seem to shake the thoughts of George from her mind. “May I have a day or two before...we talk?”

Cleburne seemed a bit disappointed by her request but rallied gamely and said, “Yes, of course. One must thoroughly consider all aspects.”

Cleburne accompanied her to the house, but he did not come in, claiming he had some calls he must make.

She made her way upstairs, feeling heavy in her limbs and her heart, and walked down the long hall to her mother’s suite of rooms. She knocked lightly on the door; Hannah opened it instantly. Just behind Hannah, Honor could see Mercy, her arms outstretched, practicing dance steps as she hummed a tune.

“How is Mamma?” Honor whispered.

“The same, miss. Says little and hasn’t an appetite.”

Honor nodded and stepped inside. Her mother was dressed in her widow’s weeds, standing at the window, looking out over the square. “Mamma?” Honor said.

“She’s not listening today,” Mercy said, sinking into a deep curtsy.

Honor walked across the room and touched her mother’s arm. She started, then looked at Honor and smiled. “Darling,” she said.

“Are you all right? May I get you something?”

Her mother didn’t answer, just turned her gaze to the window again.

“Mercy, you’ll stay with Mamma?” Honor asked as Mercy twirled again, the black ribbons of her mourning dress flying out behind her.

“When might I have my dance lessons again?” Mercy asked, dipping and swaying to one side.

“When we have properly mourned our stepfather,” Honor said. “Where is Pru?”

“Playing another dirge on the pianoforte.” Mercy sighed.

Just as Mercy had said, Prudence was playing a lugubrious song when Honor found her.

“Have you come, too?” Prudence asked. “Mercy has already tried to persuade me to leave off.”

“I wouldn’t think of it,” Honor lied. “But I need your help. Will you keep an eye on Mamma this evening?”

Prudence stopped playing. “Why? Where will you be?”

“I have something I must do.”

“What is it?” Prudence pressed.

Honor really didn’t know the answer to that. She only knew she’d not accept Easton’s rejection of her. Unlike her experience with Rowley, this time Honor was certain of the feelings Easton had shown her, and she wasn’t going to walk away as if she had no say in it. “Darling, bear with me. I shall return by nightfall.”

“All right,” Prudence said lightly, and began to play again. “Do remember what the earl always said of you, Honor—you’re a good girl.”

Honor looked at her sister with surprise.

Prudence smiled a little. “You think me a child, but I’m not,” she said, and played a heavy chord.

Honor smiled fondly. “No, Pru, you’re not. You’ve grown up far too quickly.”

“Grace warned me. She said someone must remind you that you’re a good girl, or you will forget it entirely.”

Honor laughed. She missed Grace so! “I shall remember. But this afternoon, you really must bear with me.”

“I will,” Prudence said lightly. “I always do.” She smiled playfully at her sister and resumed her playing. “Have a care, Honor.”

As she went out, it was not lost on Honor that even the children were telling her to be careful now.





CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

IN A CLOAK, with the hood pulled over her head, Honor used the alleyways and mews to wend her way to Audley Street. A fine mist hung over the street. She hurried up the steps and rapped on George’s door. It seemed several long, torturous minutes passed before the door swung open. Mr. Finnegan stood there, looking at her curiously. He stooped down and peered under her hood to see her face. “Miss Cabot?” he said, his voice full of surprise.

“Yes, I...”

He abruptly grabbed her arm, pulled her inside then glanced up and down the street before shutting the door.

“I beg your pardon,” Honor said breathlessly, her anxiety having the best of her now. “I know this must seem highly unusual, but it is important that I speak to Mr. Easton. Is he at home?”

“He is,” Finnegan said warily.

“Then...then could you please tell him I have called?”

Finnegan sighed. He shook his head.

Honor’s heart sank. She’d come only to be rejected again.

“I shan’t tell him you’ve called—I think it best that it come from you, madam,” Finnegan said, and put his hand to the small of her back, ushering her deeper into the foyer. He pointed to a long hallway. “Walk until you see a green door on your right. That is his study, and you will find him within.”