Page 34 of Forgetting the Earl
“I disagree,” he rasped against her skin, his voice warm like molten chocolate. “It took me far too long to find you.”
She heard the catch in his voice. Southwell didn’t mean tonight.
“Do not say it, Honora. You have no idea what we are. Or what we could be.”
But she did. She knew exactly what they were to each other.
Chapter Twelve
“Mrs. Culpepper, mayI introduce you to my cousin, the Earl of Huntly.”
Honora didn’t offer her hand to the Earl of Huntly because it would require releasing Gideon’s. But it was just as well because Lord Huntly didn’t seem inclined to take it.
Montieth had previously been the tallest gentleman of Honora’s acquaintance, but Huntly put Montieth to shame. Where Montieth was tall and lean, with a loose-limbed elegance, Huntly appeared a craggy, unscalable mountain, one in which gloomy clouds persistently hovered over its peaks. There was a stain on his waistcoat—wine, she thought. His hair, the color of a tarnished gold coin, fell in an unruly mass about his ears and cheeks, catching on his poorly shaved jaw. Theonlything remotely lovely about Lord Huntly was his eyes, the endless blue of a cloudless summer sky.
Seemed a waste, to be honest.
“My lord.” Honora bobbed politely, still holding on to Gideon. She was anxious to get the pleasantries over and have Huntly go somewhere else to lurk.
Huntly looked down on her from his great height. “Pleasure and all that, Mrs. Culpepper.”
Honora raised a brow, taking in the giant of a man before her. The massive hands, drumming in boredom across one of his thighs, both of which were the size of a small tree trunks. The fact his waistcoat wasn’t correctly buttoned. His cravat, which appeared to have been tied by a blind man. And he was rude.
Southwell hadterribletaste in friends.
Huntly’s gaze flicked over her bosom displayed to perfection in the gown.
A growl came from the back of Gideon’s throat. “The card room is in the back, Hunt. Try not to insult anyone. I’m in no mood to stand as second for you in the morning.”
Huntly immediately averted his eyes from Honora. “It’s been ages since I’ve been in a duel. Besides, Montieth is a better second than you. I’ll ask him if need be.” Without another word, or even so much as a goodbye, Lord Huntly turned and lumbered across the room.
“Apologies, Honora.” Gideon’s gaze was on Huntly, who made his way through the throng of guests, carelessly stepping on one young lady’s skirt. He didn’t even pause or apologize when she cried out.
“So.” She shifted back and forth. “He’s lovely.”
The dimple appeared in Gideon’s cheek. “No, he isn’t. Hunt is awful. If we weren’t related, I might have allowed our relationship to fade away into the abyss of my past, much like Tarrington.” He sighed. “He’s not at all like Tarrington. I shouldn’t joke about such a thing. But Hunt is often impolite. Rude. Poorly mannered. But for all that, he doesn’t have a truly mean bone in his body. I tolerate him because he’s family. You didn’t come alone, did you?”
“No, my cousin, Emmagene, and I arrived together.” She scanned the room for Emmie and only caught sight of Huntly tossing back a large glass of wine, spilling some of it on himself, much to the horror of those around him.
“Speaking of delightful relatives.” Southwell squeezed her fingers.
The musicians struck up a waltz, the strains of the violins filling Lady Trent’s ballroom. Honora’s foot started to tap of its own accord, she being happy to watch from the wall, with Gideon next to her. No matter what happened after tonight, she wanted to be with him. He was real forher. No matter what tomorrow would bring.
“Dance with me, Honora.”
She looked over at him in surprise. “But you don’t dance, my lord.” Biting her lip, she nodded to his leg and lowered her voice. “You shouldn’t, Gideon.”
“Icandance. Possibly I don’t glide about as well as I once did, but I have been practicing.” His eyes caught hers. “I haven’t wanted to dance with anyone else but you, Honora. And our last—that is to say, will you please do me the honor?” Gideon held out his hand.
Honora gazed into the face she’d both despised and adored since her first season, more beloved to her than any other. She clasped his fingers, struggling to keep the moisture from gathering in her eyes. “You don’t have to do this. Not for me.”
“I most assuredly do.” He set his cane against the wall. “Don’t let me forget that. You don’t look strong enough to carry me to the carriage later. And I would appear quite unmanly if you did.” Sweeping her into his arms, he pulled her close, moving stiffly and with much less agility than he once had.
Honora placed one hand on his shoulder, loving the way his hair brushed against her knuckles. The other hand, she placed very firmly on his chest, feeling the beat of his heart beneath her palm.
Southwell sucked in a lungful of air. “That’s lovely. Don’t stop doing that.”
“Doing what?” She gave him a mischievous smile.
