Honor (7 page)

“I know I took liberties,” he said softly, “but I’m not sorry.” When Honor sat there in stiff, affronted silence, buttoning up her evening cloak, he added, “I don’t think you are, either.”

She thought of Theo and Wes, and she realized that Robert was right. She smiled slowly but still kept her eyes averted. “I suspect we both were swept away.”

“Honor, look at me.” She turned her head. “You’re not angry at me for being so brazen, are you?”

“Of course not. I’m not a child, Robert. I know that there is more to lovemaking than mere kissing.”

He smiled slowly and seductively. “You’re a woman in every way, you know.”

She grimaced. “Just because I know about such matters doesn’t mean I’m experienced when it comes to men, so you must pardon me if I act a little skittish.”

Her ingenuous confession caught him off guard. He reached for her hand and drew it to his lips. When he released it, his gaze still held hers. “I’m not a fine gentleman like your friends. I say what’s on my mind, and I do what my heart tells me.” Or his body. He took a deep, shuddering breath. “I just can’t help myself. When I’m with you, I always want to find the nearest secluded spot and make love to you.”

Her eyes widened in panic. “Dear Lord, Robert. What a-shocking thing to say!”

“Now I’ve offended you,” he said, retreating to his corner of the carriage. He bowed his head. “You’re a respectable gentlewoman, and here I am trying to seduce you.”

She regarded him warily. “I have no intention of letting anyone seduce me.” Even though his kisses and caresses made her ache inside. Even though his skillful touch banished all reason. Even though some wild, wanton part of her secretly wanted him to.

He raised his hands as if in surrender. “Then I won’t try.”

“I’m relieved to hear you say that. As astounding as this may seem, I have come to enjoy your company a great deal.”

He smiled. “Then we’re friends again?”

She smiled back. “Friends again.”

The carriage slowed and came to a stop. Honor looked out at the Tree residence, its windows dark and shuttered, its inhabitants mercifully asleep. “Gracious. We’re here already.”

After a yawning Simms opened the carriage door, Robert handed Honor down and they went inside, where a solitary lamp burned on the hall table to welcome them home.

The lamp’s soft glow didn’t reach down into the hallway by the study, where a worried Theo stood as still and patient as a stalking cat. Ever since the servants had retired for the night hours ago, Theo had been waiting and dozing fitfully in the cold, dark downstairs parlor. When she heard the faint clopping of hooves, she had jumped up and peered through the curtains to make sure her brougham had indeed returned; then she had withdrawn to wait. She watched Honor and Robert walk into the foyer, their footsteps tapping loudly in the hushed silence.

She watched Robert Davis take Honor in his arms and give her a long, lingering kiss that she wholeheartedly reciprocated. Then he wished her a good night and left.

Theo watched Honor return to the foyer, remove her evening cloak, and drape it through the crook of her arm. She stood there stroking the satin absently, her eyes glazed as if her thoughts dwelt among the stars.

Theo hoped Honor wasn’t falling in love with Robert Davis, because if she was, Theo would be forced to stop her.

Honor paused before her aunt’s bedchamber door, then decided it was too late to wake her. Once in her own room, tucked beneath a mountain of coverlets, she closed her eyes and tried to sleep.

Her eyes flew open. She had allowed a man to kiss her with his tongue and touch her bare breast. Shameful heat crawled up her cheeks. All the schoolgirl tales told in whispers about loose women and their terrible fate welled up like a Greek chorus of censorious ghosts.

She stifled a laugh. She had no intention of sharing their fate. Aunt Theo hadn’t, and neither would she.

Honor sat up and hugged her knees. Robert filled her thoughts to overflowing. She pictured his green eyes darkening with desire and felt the softness of his hair sifting through her fingers. She shivered deliciously.

Robert, Robert, Robert.

She wouldn’t be seeing him again until Monday. She wondered how she would survive.

Theo didn’t like this latest development one bit.

That morning, having gone to her niece’s room to ask about her evening, she had found Honor glowing. She was obviously growing closer to Robert Davis.

Theo sat at her late husband’s desk and looked down at the locked bottom right-hand drawer where she had hidden the papers that had the power to break Honor’s heart. Should she show them to her? No, it was too close to Christmas, and Theo couldn’t be that heartless.

She sat back in her chair. She would just have to bide her time.

“This Christmas is going to be the best one I’ve had since Father died,” Honor said to herself, breathing in the fresh scent of the evergreen boughs gracing the mantel. “Robert will be here any minute. What could possibly spoil this day?”

Here in the upstairs parlor, the Christmas tree dominated one corner of the room and was laden with tasteful decorations—gold and silver ribbon bows and slim white tapers that had not been lit since the year the tree caught fire. Beneath the wide branches stood box piled upon box of opened presents.

Robert’s cordovan leather gloves were waiting beneath the tree, along with an ivory-handled, boar-bristle shaving brush and mug of imported French shaving soap from
Theo. Honor hoped their gifts would not embarrass him.

Aunt Theo, whose striking hunter-green velvet gown matched Honor’s, ladled milky syllabub from the silver punch bowl into cups and handed one to her niece. “Try this.”

Honor walked over to the bay window and looked out over the deserted street and the park beyond as she sipped the frothy drink. “It’s delicious.” She looked at her aunt. “Is Wes coming today?”

Though she tried to hide her disappointment, Theo’s strained smile betrayed her. “I don’t expect so. He has family obligations.”

Honor turned back to the window. She suspected her aunt was falling in love with Wes despite her protestations to the contrary.

The arrival of the brougham pulling up to the curb caught Honor’s attention. “Robert’s here. He’s wearing Uncle Oak’s overcoat and carrying packages.”

Aunt Theo joined her and peered over her shoulder. “Oh, dear. I hope the poor man hasn’t bankrupted himself buying us gifts.”

Robert saw them standing in the window, smiled, and trotted up the steps. Honor and Theo waited for him upstairs.

His face was pale and pinched from the cold, but he radiated his customary infectious energy as he wished them a merry Christmas. He thrust one box wrapped in newspaper and tied with coarse brown butcher’s twine into Honor’s hands, and gave the other one to Theo with the explanation that it was only peppermints.

Theo, who professed that peppermints were her favorite, wished him a merry Christmas and kissed his cheek. “Would you like something to warm your bones before dinner?”

He rubbed his hands together and suppressed another shiver. “That would be appreciated.”

Once they were seated in the parlor and Jackson had brought Robert a steaming cup of hot buttered rum, Honor retrieved his gifts from under the tree. “These are for you,” she said almost shyly. “I hope you like them.”

He looked uncomfortable, a man obviously unused to receiving gifts. “You’ve done too much for me as it is.”

“On the contrary,” Theo said, “this is our small way of thanking you for tutoring Honor. She received an
A
in constitutional law, you know.”

His eyes shone with pride. “I know.”

He set down his cup and unwrapped the largest box. When he took out the shaving brush and mug, his eyes widened in awe. He looked up at Theo. “Words fail me.”

Theo smiled. “I thought you would like them.”

“I do. Very much.”

“Now mine,” Honor said. She held her breath, desperate for him to like the gloves.

When Robert saw them, he looked overwhelmed by more emotions than Honor could have named. “Gloves.” He stroked the rich cordovan leather as tenderly as if it were Honor’s cheek. Then he tried them on, and to Honor’s delight, they fit perfectly.

He rose, went to Honor’s chair, and brought her hand to his lips, his green eyes holding hers. “I’ve never owned anything so magnificent. Now open your gift.” While Honor undid the twine, he added, “It’s not much.”

“I’m sure I’ll adore it.”

She opened the box. Inside was something neatly wrapped in more newspaper. When she unwrapped it, her lips moved, but her voice caught in her throat. Robert’s gift was a small barn owl carved out of wood, its talons wrapped around a branch that served as a base, its wings spread out majestically for a downward swoop on unseen prey.

Honor stared at him, just as speechless as he had been moments ago.

“I whittled it myself,” he said. “Since owls are supposed to be wise, it seemed appropriate for you.”

It was the highest compliment she could ever have received from a man, to be thought wise.

“Wherever did you find the time?” she asked, fighting back stinging tears.

“Here and there.” Precious moments he could ill afford, stolen between studying, tutoring her, and doing odd jobs for his landlady.

“It must have taken you weeks.” She stared at the carving, admiring feathers so painstakingly rendered that the bird’s wings seemed to flutter in her hand.

“No one has ever given me a lovelier present,” Honor said. “I’ll treasure it always.” A warm glow of contentment and happiness enveloped her. This Christmas was as perfect as she had hoped.

They all settled down to drinking and talking. Later Robert told a hilarious story about Pudding Weymouth, complete with the professor’s waddle and dabbing of his forehead, causing Honor and Theo to laugh so boisterously that none of them realized another visitor had arrived until a visibly shaken Jackson suddenly appeared in the doorway.

“Madam, Mr. Saltonsall has arrived, and I’m afraid he’s quite—”

“Drunk, old boy?” Wes was swaying so badly he staggered and had to lean against the doorjamb to keep from falling. His brown hair flew every which way, and alcohol and misery dulled his humorous blue eyes.

While everyone sat there in stunned silence, not knowing where to look, Wes focused on Robert. His eyes narrowed into slits, and his nostrils flared as he took a few more hesitant steps into the parlor. “Might have known I’d find you here, Davis, turning up like a bad penny.”

Honor rose. “I’ll thank you not to insult my guest in my own home.”

Wes’s lip curled in a sneer as he stood swaying in the middle of the room. “Guest? The man’s a filthy climber!”

“Wes…” Theo cautioned, rising.

Robert turned red and jumped to his feet, but before he could say one word, Theo intervened. “Wesley Saltonsall, I will not tolerate rudeness no matter how drunk you are.”

“Filthy climber.” Wes glared at Robert with such vehement hatred in his eyes that Honor took an involuntary step between the two men. “You should have seen him at the Grants’, licking Cleavon Frame’s boots. Did they taste good, Davis? Disgusting. But we can smell a climber a mile away.” He swayed again. “They all had a good laugh about it afterward.” His voice trailed off. “Good laugh.”

Theo snapped, “That will be quite enough!”

“Don’t you see?” His voice rose to a shout that shook the ornaments on the Christmas tree. “He’s after Honor only because he wants to get his filthy hands on your money!”

Honor itched to slap his face. “Jackson, please show Mr. Saltonsall out.”

Self-pitying tears filled Wes’s eyes, and his face crumpled. “Can’t believe he’s got you two fooled. Can’t believe it.” He let out a loud, heartfelt sigh and leaned heavily against a nearby side table for support. Then he looked up at Theo. “Father wants me to marry Selena Cabot.”

If Wes’s declaration moved Theo, she didn’t show it. “Why are you so surprised? You know it’s high time you married.”

Her words must have finally penetrated his drunken stupor, because he straightened up, looking as bewildered and betrayed as a boy whose father had just sold his beloved pony. “But I don’t love her. Can’t love her. You know why.”

Theo’s black eyes turned even darker in her white face. “I know, but we’ll discuss it later in private, when you’re sober.”

His broad shoulders slumped, and his chin dropped to his chest. When he raised his head, tear tracks scored his cheeks. Not a dimple appeared. His trembling fingers caressed Theo’s cheek. “Hair like snow, eyes like midnight. Coldhearted bitch. You don’t love me. You just want to fuck me.”

Honor’s jaw dropped and she gasped in outrage, while Theo recoiled as if struck. Davis growled, “You bastard,” and stepped forward, his intention clear, but Theo motioned him to stay back with an impatient wave of her hand.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean it,” Wes whimpered, his voice catching on a sob. He grabbed Theo and pulled her into his arms, crushing her to him as if he would never let her go. “Don’t hate me. Don’t throw me out. It’s the drink. I’m not myself.”