Honor (6 page)

Honor was beginning to regret having agreed to come tonight.

Robert took the port decanter that Freddie Horsley, banker and avid sportsman, slid across the table to him, and measured a cautious two fingers’ worth, no more, into his glass.

The sumptuous dinner was over, and the ladies had retired to the parlor, leaving the gentlemen to their port and Amos Grant’s excellent Cuban cigars.

Leaning back in his chair and unbuttoning the bottom two buttons of his waistcoat to let out his bloated belly, Amos Grant cleared his throat with a loud harrumph. “So, Davis, you from Boston?”

“Maine, originally.”

Grant puffed on his cigar. “I have a place in Bar Harbor. Penny and the boys go up there every summer, and I join them on weekends.”

Now we’re getting down to business, Robert thought. This is where they see if I’m one of them.

He considered fabricating an acceptable background, but then he realized that anything he said would get back to Honor or her aunt through Saltonsall. No, best to tell the truth. At least for now.

He sipped his port and hoped for the best. “My family owned a farm near Portland.”

“How many acres?” Grant demanded. “Five hundred? A thousand?”

“Only two hundred.” He saw Grant analyze that information and conclude that Robert Davis was “not one of us.”

Freddie Horsley said, “There’s good shooting up in Maine.” The banker believed that most animals were put on earth to be shot, hooked on a line, or chased by hounds. Of the men Robert had met tonight, he had found Horsley to be the most likable and congenial. “Do you do much hunting, Davis?”

“I go shooting occasionally.” A lie, but he doubted that it would ever be tested.

Saltonsall smiled. “To Freddie, hunting means riding to hounds.”

Cleavon Frame, another lawyer and older than the other men present by a good twenty years, said, “Damn fool sport, fox hunting. Who wants to get up at the crack of dawn on a cold winter’s morning to bruise his balls bouncing around on the back of a horse?”

“I do!” Freddie exclaimed indignantly. “Besides, the saddle doesn’t bruise the old balls; it toughens ’em up for the ladies.”

Robert joined in the collective ribald laughter.

Frame said, “It takes more than tough balls to please the ladies, Freddie. You should know that at your age.” When the laughter finally died along with Freddie’s good-natured indignation, Frame took a deep drag on his cigar and said to Robert, “How long have you known Honor?”

“Several months. We’re classmates at the university.”

Frame nodded. “She’s spent the last two summers clerking at Royce and Ellis.”

Grant gave a disapproving harrumph. “I’m surprised you allowed her in the door.”

Frame bristled at the younger man’s tone. “The Trees have been valued clients ever since the firm was founded, so we had to take her on or risk losing Theodate as a client. We had to hide Honor in a back office so she wouldn’t distract the men.” He chuckled lasciviously. “Especially me. She is one damn fine-looking woman. We won’t hire her when she graduates, of course.”

“Is she incompetent?” Robert asked.

Frame shrugged. “She could be another Oliver Wendell Holmes and we still wouldn’t hire her. It’s just not done.”

Grant cleared his throat. “Can you imagine what kind of impression a beautiful woman would make on a jury? They’d find for her client whether he was guilty or innocent! There would be appeals right and left.”

“Not to mention the absurdity of having a woman put ‘Esquire’ after her name,” Frame said.

Robert said nothing. No use risking his future defending Honor when their minds were made up.

Saltonsall sipped his port, obviously uncomfortable with the controversial nature of the conversation. “You’re a lucky man, Davis. Honor is a woman any man would be proud of.”

Robert grinned in agreement. “I am lucky.”

Freddie said, “If she were my daughter, I’d have married her off years ago. Her aunt gives her too much freedom. It’s not good for a woman to have too much freedom. Before you know it, she’ll start telling her husband what to do. Then she’ll want to vote. When will it stop?”

Frame shook his head. “It’s her aunt’s fault for encouraging her. Theodate’s husband left her with too much money instead of putting it into a trust and letting me control it. She always was a wild one.”

Saltonsall shifted in his chair and said nothing.

Grant took a deep drag on his cigar and blew out a cloud of smoke. He regarded Robert superciliously. “Too bad you didn’t go to Harvard. Cutter and Bailey only invites Harvard men.”

The right family, the right school. Robert’s resentment boiled, but he held it in check. “Harvard is too rich for my blood.”

Frame nodded in approval. “So you’re a self-made man then, eh?”

Perceiving an advantage, Robert pressed it home. “Yes, sir. I left the family farm without a penny to my name sixteen years ago and worked my way up to foreman at a textile mill in Lowell. After my parents died, I sold the farm to a lumber company at a tidy profit and paid my way through college and law school.”

Freddie said, “Ambitious.” He stubbed out his cigar. “Honor Elliott would be the perfect wife for an ambitious man—if you could get her to give up her fool notion about becoming a lawyer.”

“And if you could curb her sharp tongue,” Grant added, blowing smoke into the air. “A woman shouldn’t say what’s on her mind.”

Frame nodded. “The world judges a man by the woman he chooses to marry. A beautiful woman can do wonders for a man’s career, especially if she’s well connected, like Honor.”

Robert sensed the deep, rapid undercurrents, but he couldn’t read them successfully, so he didn’t risk responding. Finally he said, “Honor and I are just friends. There’s been no talk of marriage.” Yet.

“You could do worse,” Saltonsall said, emptying the last of the port and staring moodily into space, his mind obviously elsewhere.

Conversation dwindled and died with the last of the cigars. Their host hoisted himself out of his chair, cleared his throat, and announced that it was time to rejoin the ladies.

Later, after coffee had been served and consumed, Honor and Robert were the first to leave.

As they put on their wraps in the foyer, Honor turned to Robert with an apologetic smile. “I seem to have left my purse in the parlor. Will you get it for me?”

He nodded and returned to the parlor. He was just about to walk in when he heard Freddie Horsley say quite distinctly and contemptuously, “That Davis fellow is obviously a climber.”

Robert froze. He hadn’t fooled anybody. Honor’s wealthy, influential friends had recognized him for what he was, a social climber.

He said loudly over his shoulder, “I think it’s in here,” more to save himself embarrassment than to spare the men when he walked back into their midst unexpectedly. Only Saltonsall had the grace to look ashamed, but the rest hid their hypocrisy behind innocent looks and bland social smiles.

“Has anyone seen Honor’s purse?” he asked.

Saltonsall held up what looked like the missing item. “Is this it?”

Robert nodded, took the purse, and bade them all a good night when he really wished them all in hell.

Something was definitely troubling Robert.

Seated across from him in the brougham, Honor observed the line of anger between his brows and the uncharacteristic tightness about his mouth. There was no hint of pleasure or satisfaction in the depths of his green eyes, none of the warm afterglow of conviviality one usually experienced after a successful social affair. And he hadn’t said a word to her since handing her into the carriage. Not one word.

“Did you enjoy yourself’?” she asked.

He nodded without looking at her. “Did you?”

She shifted in her seat, causing her satin cape to rustle softly. “Not really.”

“Why not? These are your friends.”

“They are not my friends; they are people I know. There is a difference.” Honor looked out the carriage window at the deserted streets and dark, silent houses. “I know that most people in the world out there are narrow-minded and prejudiced against anyone who is different.” She smiled wanly. “This evening just brought their pettiness home, that’s all.”

She turned to Robert. “Was Amos impressed enough to offer you a position with Cutter, Bailey and Rye by evening’s end?”

Robert laughed. “Hardly. He informed me they only invite Harvard men to join the firm.”

Honor noticed the bitterness in his voice. “They were all rather horrible to you, weren’t they?” Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment. “I’m so, so sorry. Aunt Theo warned me this would happen.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“What did they say?”

“Nothing worth repeating.” Judging by the resentful set of his jaw, he was lying to spare his own considerable pride.

“Damn them! I feel like going back there and giving them all a piece of my mind.”

Honor looked at Robert helplessly, overwhelmed with feelings of protectiveness. She wanted to make up to him for this disastrous evening. She needed his forgiveness.

Honor gathered her cape and maneuvered herself over onto the seat next to him. He turned toward her, surprise written on the planes of his face.

She placed her gloved fingertips against his hard cheek. “I’m sorry.” She brushed her lips tentatively against his own, then pulled away, suddenly uncertain.

It was all the invitation he needed. He reached for her, drawing her against him with a welcoming sigh. She could feel the heat of his body through their clothes, and even by the dim light of the carriage lamps, she saw desire turn his eyes into twin glittering emeralds.

He cupped her face in his hand and stroked her cheek with his thumb. “You don’t have to be sorry for anything,” he whispered hoarsely, just before his mouth came down on hers.

Honor closed her eyes and savored the smooth, warm pressure of his lips coaxing pleasure into full bloom. She reveled in the heady warmth singing through her blood, the way her sense of touch and taste blossomed like wild tropical flowers after an unexpected rain.

When she felt his lips part and his tongue press against her teeth, making his intention clear, she jerked away in confusion, her face flushed with betrayal.

Breathing hard, Robert held her fast and placed a gentling hand on her burning cheek. “Let me kiss you the way lovers kiss,” he whispered. “Please.”

Lovers.

The tantalizing unknown beckoned, and Honor followed. She placed her lips against his, and felt his fingers curl around the nape of her neck, holding her fast. Still tasting faintly of after-dinner coffee, his tongue possessed her mouth with shocking intimacy. Honor felt an answering jolt of heat rage deep in her belly, then spread throughout her body like wildfire until she couldn’t breathe and her last coherent thought melted away. She craved…what? She was still too new at this to know.

Robert withdrew, panting, and Honor barely felt his fingers at the collar of her evening cloak, deftly undoing the topmost buttons, until the garment parted and she felt the sting of cold night air against her hot flesh. She knew what Robert was going to do next, and she felt powerless to stop him.

Chapter Four

So this is what it feels like, Honor thought, to be seduced.

Robert’s soft, sensuous lips moved down the side of her neck in a slow, enthralling dance, trailing fire that warmed Honor’s skin and sent shivers skittering down her arms. Her heartbeat quickened, and an involuntary gasp escaped her lips when she felt Robert’s questing fingers slip between the fabric of her parted cloak.

He kissed her deeply, his hand closing over her breast.

No one had ever touched her so intimately, and she was unprepared for the erotic surge. Her nipple strained against the fabric of her bodice, craving Robert’s touch. A white-hot lassitude crept through her limbs, leaving them as weightless as if they were made of paper rather than hard muscle and bone. Reason took flight, leaving only deep physical hunger in its wake.

Honor groaned against Robert’s mouth and buried her fingers in the thick softness of his hair. When they parted, both breathless and gasping, he murmured ageless endearments to her.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered and kissed her again.

Honor shivered, closed her eyes, and sighed contentedly, savoring the warmth and hardness of his mouth against hers. Her eyes flew open in alarm when she felt his fingers slip beneath the neckline of her gown. Her cheeks burned with mortification as she felt his warm hand pass lightly over her bare breast.

She gasped. “Robert! No!” She pulled his hand out of her bodice and bolted to the far corner of the seat like a frightened rabbit. In seconds the overwhelming panic subsided. Her heartbeat slowed, her blood cooled, and her erratic breathing became less ragged. Only the appalling embarrassment lingered.

Honor couldn’t look at him as she straightened her bodice, but she could feel the weight of his gaze on her. She searched for something to say, but her mind remained blank.