Honor (37 page)

“Good arguments,” he said, his soft drawl gentle. “Thank you for keeping my friend out of jail.”

His friend. “Only doing my job.” She turned and resumed walking.

As they left the courtroom, a tall, heavyset man with white muttonchop whiskers and a fanatical gleam in his eyes accosted them. Honor had seen him around the courthouse often enough to recognize Anthony Comstock.

He shook his fist at Catherine, sandwiched protectively between her husband and Nevada. “So you’ve come back, have you, you spawn of Satan!” he bellowed, causing everyone in the hall to stop and stare. “You escaped me once, Catherine Delancy, but you won’t get away with it a second time. You’re going to jail where you belong.”

Damon turned red and swore under his breath, but before he could take a swing at Comstock, Honor stepped between the two men.

“I’ll thank you to stop harassing my clients, Mr. Comstock,” she said coldly, “otherwise you’ll find yourself in jail.”

Though Honor herself was tall, Comstock towered over her. “I’m not afraid of your threats, Mrs. Davis.”

“I don’t make threats,” she retorted. “No one is above the law, even you.” Honor took a step forward, deliberately crowding him toe to toe. “Now, if you’ll be so kind as to get out of our way…”

He stepped back reluctantly while glaring at her, only to be replaced by a swarm of newspaper reporters firing questions at the Delancys, who knew most of them by name.

“Dr. Delancy, why did you decide to return to New York and risk prosecution?”

“Mr. Delancy, what will you do if your wife is convicted?”

“Do you intend to have the lady lawyer represent Dr. Delancy?”

Ever since the day a pack of reporters had waylaid her outside of her office about
Graham v. Graham,
Honor had resented being crowded and questioned by members of the press.

“Gentlemen, my client has nothing to say at this time,” she said.

“Oh, but I do,” Damon said behind her, taking control in his customary manner.

Honor stopped, annoyed by his presumption, but she said nothing. The reporters fell silent, their pencils poised above their notepads, their expressions eager for a scoop.

Delancy’s deep, rough voice commanded attention as it rang through the hall. “My wife and I decided to return to New York City because we were despondent over the death of our son.” His cold gray eyes sought out Anthony Comstock standing on the edge of the throng and glaring back. “We also decided it was high time to fight these ridiculous charges brought against my wife by a malicious fanatic.”

A reporter piped up, “But what will you do if she’s convicted?”

Delancy smiled. “She won’t be, Ransom, because we’re living on the verge of the twentieth century, and it’s time Comstock’s reign of terror came to an end.”

Another reporter, whom Honor recognized as Liam Flynn, said, “Do you intend to have Honor Davis defend your wife?”

She held her breath and pretended his decision didn’t matter.

“I haven’t decided. Now, if you gentlemen will excuse us, my wife and I are eager to get out of here.”

Satisfied, the reporters dispersed.

After the papers were signed and the Delancys were free to go, a white-faced, tight-lipped Catherine said, “God, I had forgotten how much I hate that man! He has single-handedly done more than anyone else I know of to keep women ignorant and impoverished.” She shook her head. “Miserable, small-minded, fanatical—”

“Hush,” her husband said, patting her arm as they walked down the courthouse steps. “We’re going to beat the bastard this time.”

When they reached the foot of the steps, Catherine turned to Honor. “Will you come back to the house with us?”

“I can’t today,” she replied. “I have a pile of work waiting for me at my office.”

“Can’t it wait an hour or two?” Nevada said.

Before Honor could answer, Catherine said, “Please come. You’re Nevada’s friend, and we think of you as our friend as well. We’d like you to share in our homecoming.”

You would, Honor thought, but your husband wouldn’t.

She considered her lapel watch and made a face. “I’m afraid a client is coming to my office at eleven o’clock, and I can’t reschedule him.”

A faint line of displeasure appeared between Nevada’s brows.

Catherine looked crestfallen but managed a warm smile. “I can certainly understand the demands of a profession. Perhaps you would join us for dinner tonight.”

The persistent woman was not about to take no for an answer, and Honor couldn’t put off socializing with Nevada’s dear friends any longer. “I’d be delighted to come.”

Catherine smiled again. “We’ll look forward to getting acquainted.”

Nevada said, “I’ll call at your apartment at seven.”

Had anyone else noticed that only Damon Delancy did not express his pleasure to hear that she would be joining them?

“Good night, boss,” Elroy called from the outer office.

Seated at her desk piled high with law books, Honor glanced at her clock. Was it five o’clock already? “Good night, Elroy,” she called back. “See you early tomorrow morning. Don’t forget that I have to depose Mrs. Elias about that rent dispute at eight o’clock sharp.”

“Yes, boss, I won’t forget.” Honor heard his footsteps cross the outer office and the door open. Then she heard Elroy say, “Oh, hello, Mr. LaRouche… Yes, the boss is in her office… Sure, go right in. Good night.”

The door closed.

Honor’s heart beat faster, but she kept writing, listening to Nevada’s slow, deliberate footsteps cross the outer office. She looked up to find his lanky frame filling her doorway, his eyes troubled.

“Did the Delancys get settled?” she asked.

He nodded. “The minute they walked through the door, the doc broke down.”

“That’s to be expected. She’s been away from her home for…what? Over two years?”

He nodded again.

“I know I’d cry the minute I walked into my home after such an absence.” Honor set down her pen. “You’re early. I thought you were calling for me at seven, at my apartment.”

He stepped into her office, stood before her desk, and came right to the point. “Why do you suddenly act like a horse with a burr under its saddle?”

Honor knew it would be useless to pretend ignorance, so she rose and faced him. “Ever since the Delancys arrived yesterday, I’ve felt like an outsider.”

Nevada’s eyes widened in genuine shock. “I hope I haven’t made you feel that way.”

She tugged at her locket. “But you have. You three have shared so much together.” She rounded the desk and went to the window, where she stared down into the street. “You’ve said that Damon is like a brother to you, and I can tell that Catherine regards you as one. When we met them at the dock, I saw that the three of you fit so perfectly together, while I was like a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit.”

Nevada crossed the room and took her hand, forcing her to look at him. “Of course we all fit. We’ve known each other for a long time. Once they get to know you a little better, you’ll be like a sister to them.”

She shook her head sadly. “I spoiled any chance of that when I told you that I found Damon arrogant and overbearing. He’s your family. I should have kept my opinion to myself.”

“I prefer the truth to a lie, no matter how much it hurts.” He stroked his mustache. “Well, you’re right. Delancy is arrogant and overbearing, but we’ve all got our faults. That doesn’t mean that you can’t get along, that you can’t respect him as much as I do.”

“He doesn’t like me, Nevada. I can tell.”

He placed his hands lightly on her shoulders and looked deep into her eyes. “That’s not true. He told me just this afternoon that he thinks you’re a beautiful woman and a damn fine lawyer.”

“But not fine enough to represent Catherine.”

He rubbed his jaw. “You have to understand how he is when it comes to the doc.”

“I do.”

“The doc likes you, too. She couldn’t stop singing your praises.”

“But Sybilla was her dear friend. Surely every time she looks at me, she must compare me to her.”

With a heavy sigh, Nevada drew her into his arms and held her tight. “Honor Davis, you make more mountains out of molehills than any woman I know.”

She closed her eyes. “I never want to force you to choose between me and your friends.”

He released her abruptly, but only to take her face in his hands. “You’re not forcing me to choose. And even if it did come down to you or Delancy…” His hands fell away, and he shrugged helplessly, his composure finally rattled. “Hell, Honor, I love you.”

There was her answer.

“And I love you.” She bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling. “But last night, when I offered to stay—”

“I sent you home,” he said, his soft drawl ragged with remorse as he realized the magnitude of his thoughtless act. “I chose the Delancys over you after all.”

“That’s how I saw it,” she said, tears springing to her eyes.

“I didn’t mean to.” He reached for both her hands, laced her fingers through his own, and held them at his sides while he bowed his head. “Sometimes I can be an ass, Honor.”

She rested her forehead against his own. “I wanted you so badly last night.”

“And I turned you away.” He took a deep breath. “What a fool.”

She looked up at him. “You can make it up to me.”

A smile played about his mouth. “How?”

She brushed her lips against his in a light, teasing kiss. “Tonight, following dinner at the Delancys’, you can stay after you take me home.”

“How late?”

“As late as you like.”

“I don’t know if I can wait,” he whispered.

She raised her brows. “But the Delancys are expecting us for dinner.”

Nevada groaned. “This is going to be the longest evening of my life.”

The moment Honor stepped out of the carriage and entered the Delancys’ mansion, she decided that no matter how insufferable Damon was, she was going to enjoy herself for Nevada’s sake.

Catherine and Damon greeted them in the foyer.

“We’re so glad you could come,” Catherine said, smiling warmly and taking both of Honor’s hands in her own. She had a way of listening intently, of giving her undivided attention to a person as if no one else existed. Honor could understand why Catherine’s patients regarded her so highly.

Damon even kissed Honor on the cheek and echoed his wife’s sentiments. Still wary, Honor noticed that he seemed more relaxed and congenial this evening, now that his wife was out of jail. In just the short time Honor had known Damon Delancy, she had seen that he loved his wife with an intensity that bordered on obsession, and that her welfare ruled his actions. Yet Catherine could tame him with a look or a word or a touch.

As Nevada took Honor’s wrap and handed it to the butler, Honor said, “I imagine it’s good to be home.”

Catherine looked around the foyer and shivered. “I never thought I’d see this house again.”

Her husband placed an arm around her shoulders. “We’re here to stay.”

“I’ll do my part to see that you do,” Honor said.

Catherine sighed. “Let’s go into the parlor and have some sherry before dinner, shall we?”

When they adjourned to the parlor and were all seated with drinks in hand, Honor said to Catherine, “Do you intend to resume your medical practice?”

She looked at her husband with a spark of defiance in her eyes that Honor could not understand. “Yes, when my future is more certain. For now I’ll volunteer at the Women’s Dispensary.”

Damon gave her a long, level look, but said nothing, and Honor suspected Catherine’s work in the tenements was a sore point with her husband.

Seated beside Honor with his glass of bourbon, Nevada said, “Two minutes after Delancy unpacked, he was down at the office, taking over the reins.”

Damon raised his glass to his friend. “And you were only too happy to relinquish them.”

Nevada smiled slowly. “I’ll leave you with all the headaches.”

While the men continued to discuss the turmoil resulting from Damon’s sudden reappearance and resumption of control over his company, Honor sipped her sherry reflectively. How different Nevada was from the brash, bold Delancy. Yet remaining in his friend’s shadow did nothing to diminish Nevada in the least. He was confident enough to step aside.

Catherine leaned forward and said, “I was so shocked to hear that Gordon and Genevra Graham had gotten a divorce.”

“Yes,” Honor replied, and proceeded to tell them about the case.

Damon looked at her with interest. “You represented Genevra and won?”

Honor nodded. “Up until that time, my legal work had consisted of negotiating contracts for circus performers and actors, writing wills, and doing some estate work. That divorce case marked my first appearance in a courtroom.” She shook her head. “I had to persuade the judge to let me argue the case, and then he warned the jury not to be influenced by my beauty.”