Burwood’s gaze remained fixed on her father—who suddenly stood taller, the wrinkles in his face smoothing out, making him appear a decade younger.
“No need to wait. I’ve just come back from a ride. I can break my fast later.”
“As you wish. Follow me to the study.” Burwood rose and sketched an elegant bow. “Lady Honoria, if you would excuse me.”
Honoria squeaked out a feeble, “Of course.”
As they left, Burwood stopped and whispered something to a footman, who nodded and raced off.
What in the world was going on?
CHAPTER 35
Drake nervously paced the length of his study, his empty stomach flipping around like a fish on dry land. Good thing he hadn’t eaten anything, or he would have cast it into the chamber pot.
Still aglow from his wondrous night with Honoria, he’d washed and dressed quickly, but his euphoria quickly faded as he anticipated meeting with her father.
Simon promised to watch for Stratford in the breakfast room and bring him to the study posthaste.
Drake didn’t want to delay any longer.
He believed Honoria would choose him regardless of her father’s dissent.
And dissent he would. Drake was certain of it—as certain as he was that she would not cave to her father’s objections.
She’d proven that to him mere hours before.
He ran the paper outlining the marriage contract between his fingers, the wording precise and careful, eager to see Stratford’s reaction when he read the details.
What was keeping them? Had the old man changed his habit of rising shortly after dawn to go for a ride? Drake had cursed many a daywhen, with sleep still heavy in his eyes, he’d had to saddle a horse for his employer.
The door swung open and Simon stepped inside, Stratford following.
Drake restrained his laugh as Stratford jerked to a halt, his eyes widening. “What are you doing in here?”
Drake could practically taste the vitriol with which Stratford delivered his question, and although he desired nothing more than to deliver a cutting retort, he choked it down and focused on his purpose—to win the man over.
For Honoria.
“Please, Lord Stratford, have a seat.” Although his insides were a jumbled mess, Drake kept his voice calm. He motioned to a high-back chair in front of the massive desk.
Stratford’s gaze bounced between Drake and Simon, finally coming to rest on Simon. “Your Grace?”
Simon held out a hand toward the chair, and Stratford lumbered toward it and took a seat.
Standing across from Stratford at the desk, Drake placed his hands on the mahogany surface and leaned forward. “Lord Stratford, I wish to offer for Lady Honoria’s hand in marriage.”
Stratford’s head swiveled back to Simon. “But I thought . . .”
Simon shook his head. “I’m afraid not. Although she’s a lovely woman. I’m here for support.” He moved to the corner of the room, lazed against the wall, and yawned.
Drake fortified himself for Stratford’s outrage: the expected argument that he would not allow Honoria to marry beneath her and a barrage of insults against Drake’s character.
The man merely hung his head and sighed. “Very well.”
What?
Drake’s legs threatened to buckle, but he forced himself to remain upright.
