Page 19 of Forgetting the Earl
Chapter Five
Honora drummed herfingers atop the desk in her bedroom, staring at one of the hedges in the garden in need of a trim. The gardener, Dobbs, was half-blind, so Honora would need to point out the hedge to him. Dobbs supported a family on his salary and didn’t deserve to be fired for an affliction he could do little about.
Her fingers beat across the desk again.
It had been nearly two weeks since Lady Pemberton’s ball, and except for catching sight of Southwell across the room while attending a presentation on the Spanish conquest of Mexico, Honora hadn’t been graced with the earl’s presence. She thought he might be avoiding her. The speech had been attended by only three women, including Honora. Southwell would have been aware she was present. Instead, he hadn’t even looked in her direction.
Annoyed at his continued stubbornness—after all, Tarrington had pursued her immediately—Honora had returned home, determined to attend Lady Bratton’s ball just so she could dance with a number of gentlemen, none of whom she liked, in order to spur Southwell’s interest. Honora had already been in a foul mood when she’d come down for the carriage and when her mother-in-law, perched on the edge of a chair like some giant bat, had seen fit to launch one of her attacks.
Which had prompted Honora to declare she was meeting her latest lover at the ball. A gentleman she would allow to take any number of liberties with her. It had all been a lie, of course. But it had given her some sense of satisfaction to hear the choking noise Loretta had made as Honora had walked out the door.
Montieth’s tall form had caught her eye at several functions over the last two weeks, but Southwell hadn’t been with him. So Honora had wandered about and flirted with every randy gentleman who thought a widow of her stature ripe for the picking, hoping word would get back to Southwell and he would seek her out.
He had not.
Honora had been sosureof Southwell’s interest, but perhaps she’d been mistaken.
With a sigh, Honora turned away from the view of the hedge to leaf through the small stack of invitations on her desk. Perhaps she should have encouraged Southwell more. A fortnight she’d been waiting for him to appear. She’d barely had to try with Tarrington or virtually any other gentleman she’d met since Culpepper had been laid to rest.
Damn Southwell.
The day would best be spent shopping. A new book or two would cheer her up. And while Honora certainly enjoyed torturing Loretta by pretending to have numerous lovers, being hissed at and called a strumpet wasn’t the best way to spend her day. Even if she did enjoy Loretta’s horror at Honora’s supposed lovers. Her mother-in-law, while she didn’t leave the house often, kept up her correspondence. Loretta was no doubt painting her as quite the light-skirts.
Making her way to the stairs, Honora directed a footman to have the carriage brought around, before pausing at the voices filtering into the hall from the direction of the drawing room.
A hoarse cackle sent a shiver down Honora’s spine. The sound of her mother-in-law’s laughter.
A low, male rumble followed, too soft for Honora to make out the words.
Who in God’s name couldpossiblyinduce Honora’s mother-in-law to giggle like a schoolgirl? The devil, perhaps? The door had been left ajar, and Honora discreetly peeked through the small opening, mouth popping open at Loretta’s guest.
Southwell.
He sat in one of the wingback chairs populating the expensively appointed drawing room, light streaming through the windows, caressing the slashes of his cheekbones and jaw. An ornately carved figurine of a horse sculpted of blue john took up most of the small table next to Southwell. He pointed to the small statue, making a comment Honora couldn’t quite hear.
Loretta burst into girlish laughter again.
Honora glared at that horse, detesting everything about the expensive ornament. The blasted thing had fallen on her foot once, breaking her toe. Loretta and Culpepper had been more concerned with the damage done to the horse than the fact Honora couldn’t walk properly for nearly two months.
Southwell leaned back against the cushions of the chair, his left leg stretched out, the cane propped beside him.
Not a temporary injury, it seemed. She wondered how he had he been hurt. And when?
A flash of pain tightened his handsome features as Southwell shifted in his seat, foot flexing back and forth as he listened to Loretta blather on. He laughed politely, but the grooves bracketing his mouth remained. A wash of sympathy filled her along with the unwelcome urge to comfort him. She willed it away even as she stepped lightly into the drawing room, making her presence known.
“Honora,dearest.” Loretta’s brittle greeting filtered out from between her thin lips. “Is that you? I thought you were going out. Don’t let us keep you.” She waved her hand as if wishing Honora away.
“I didn’t realize we had company.” Honora slid into the drawing room, her eyes meeting Southwell’s. “My errands aren’t the least urgent.”
Southwell drank her in, challenge lighting his features, daring Honora to make a comment about his sudden appearance in the drawing room.
He had made her wait two weeks. Two bloody weeks. And she doubted it had taken him that long to find out where she lived and get himself invited to tea with Loretta.
Southwell stood with his usual grace, a slight wince the only sign his leg pained him.
“My lord, how nice to see you again.” Honora bobbed politely.
“The pleasure is mine.” He inclined his head, dark gaze lingering on her mouth.
