Simon waited for him in the hallway. “Did you fix things with Honoria?”
“I’m trying. At least she listened to my poor explanation.”
“The fact you admit it was poor gives me hope. I suggest you take that approach with your guests.”
Drake nodded. “Remain by my side?”
Simon patted him on the shoulder. “Of course. Although I draw the line at defending you when they go for your throat. I’ll be busy fending them off for my own part in your duplicity.”
Pleasant chatter greeted them as they walked into the ballroom. Drake cringed, expecting things to change quickly.
He scanned the faces before him. Who would forgive and who would give him the cut direct? From the corner, Stratford scowled a warning, and Lady Stratford wrung her hands.
Next to his mother and sister, Aunt Kitty fanned herself, her sharp eyes studying him. His mother smiled encouragingly.
His chest tightened.
Where was Honoria?
Even if she wasn’t by his side, seeing her face would give him courage.
Simon nudged him. “Merrick. They’re waiting.”
Right.
He cleared his throat. “Honored guests. I have a confession.” Words stuck in his throat as everyone stared.
Aunt Kitty’s fan stilled.
Lord Middlebury paused, a glass of sherry half-way to his quirked lips.
Where was Honoria?
“I am not who I’ve purported to be.”
As if one unified body, the assembled guests leaned forward.
Honoria moved from behind Victor Pratt, her lovely green eyessliding over him like a caress. He could almost hear her say,You can do this.
“I’ve perpetrated a deception on you all. I offer no excuses.”Say it. Just say it.
“Spit it out, man,” Middlebury said, as if waiting for the tastiest of morsels.
“I am the Duke of Burwood.”
Several moments of tense silence passed.
Mouths hung agape.
Heads turned toward each other, sending questioning glances.
Murmurs ofDid you know?drifted through the room.
Anne Weatherby, front and center, squeaked, her hand going to her throat.
Priscilla Marbry pointed at Simon. “Then who is he?”
“Priscilla,” her husband admonished, darting Drake an apologetic glance.
