The Trouble With Honor (The Cabot Sisters #1)

“You know very well who,” Finnegan said, and turned about, marching from the foyer.

George jerked around, pulled the door open and looked down to the street. He saw Honor then, standing across the street from his house, an umbrella high over her head.

She was as persistent as a curse, and George had had quite enough. He stormed out through the open door, striding down to the walk. “Go home, Honor,” he said sharply.

“Not until you explain to me your sudden change of heart!”

“What do you want?” he roared, startling her enough that Honor took a step back. “Is it not enough that I lost everything trying to win an abbey for you? That’s right, Cabot, an abbey. It was to be a consolation for you when I told you that I could not return your esteem.”

Honor’s mouth dropped open in shock.

“Are you surprised? Does your debutante’s heart believe every man she meets will fall at her feet? You thought I would offer for you? No, madam, I never intended to do so. I have no more use of you, so you may move to the next bachelor. But choose wisely. Someone who will keep you in privileged circumstances and who you might conduct about on a whim seems appropriate.”

She was speechless, her blue eyes filled with shock and pain. He’d never believed he could say such wretched things to anyone, much less Honor. He’d loved her from the moment she’d sat down at the gaming hell and won one hundred pounds from him. But he could not have her, especially now.

He would not be responsible for ruining her life.

But Honor was so bloody stubborn, he could see no other way than to say these things. “Perhaps it is time I said what I want,” he said angrily. “I want you to leave me be, do you understand? You were right—I’ve had my use of you, and now I want you gone. Did you really think I would somehow become respectable because you deigned to befriend me? The truth is that I am a bastard and I enjoy playing games, and I enjoyed winning what I wanted from you. But there is no more than that, so go and marry your vicar and leave me be,” he said, and whirled around, striding for the door.

He jogged up the steps, walked inside and slammed the door at his back. Finnegan appeared from the corridor, and George pointed a menacing finger at him. “I will kill you. I will quite literally tear you apart with my bare hands if you so much as think of speaking.” He took the stairs up to his rooms, two at a time. He burst into his darkened room, stalked to the window and parted the drapes to see.

She was still there, still standing in the rain, still staring at the door. Even from this distance, he could see the rise and fall of her chest with the breaths she struggled to take. As he watched, she slowly turned around and began to walk.

He could feel his heart shattering in his chest, could feel the pieces of it littering his limbs. He’d never felt so numb, so useless, so cruel. He whirled about and drove his fist into the wall, hearing a small bone crack when he did.

*

GEORGE EASTON WAS not only a wretched dancer, he was also a wretched actor. And he was a bloody fool if he thought Honor would believe any of what he’d said.

Well...besides the part of losing everything.

And she believed that he’d tried to win an abbey for her. An abbey! Her heart swelled with tenderness just thinking of it.

In spite of her initial shock, the walk home had given her the time to think things through, and she was actually smiling a little when she entered Beckington House as she imagined George now, pacing his study—drinking brandy, no doubt—working to convince himself that he’d somehow done a noble thing in setting her free.

She was so lost in thought that she didn’t notice Mr. Cleburne in the foyer.

“Miss Cabot!” he said loudly.

“Oh! Mr. Cleburne!” She dropped her umbrella in the stand. “I didn’t see you there.”

“I am so glad to have happened on you. I am to Longmeadow in the morning.”

“Oh, is it—so soon?” Honor asked, trying to recall their conversation.

“So soon,” he said, smiling. “If I may impose... If you would be so kind, I should like a private word with you.”

Honor froze; she wasn’t ready to hear his offer, wasn’t ready with her response to him.

“If I may,” he reiterated.

“Ah...well, I am rather soaked through,” she said, gesturing to herself.

“Perhaps if you remove your cloak.”

He had her there. She slowly removed the cloak, revealing a dry gown underneath. She smiled a little as he put out his hand for her cloak and hung it on a rack. And then he gestured to the hallway that would take them to the small receiving room, where Honor had first attempted to instruct George in the art of seducing Monica.