She moved her knight into position. “However, considering Burwood seems quite fond of Mr. Merrick, it would be prudent for Father to treat him with more respect. That is, if Father expects to gain Burwood’s approval.”
Her mother’s eyebrow lifted infinitesimally. “Will you consider a match with him?”
Would she?
He was considerate, amiable, and he truly seemed to like her. Although she’d accepted impending spinsterhood, she always wanted children—a family of her own. And he would need an heir.
Yet, even if he grew to love her, could she love him in return? Or would the constant presence of Drake thwart any chance of love for Burwood to take root in her heart?
She answered as truthfully as she was able, “I don’t know. Perhaps.”
Her mother’s face brightened. Mercifully, before any further interrogation was possible, Susan entered the room.
As Susan selected a dry gown, Honoria’s mother rose.
“I shall leave you to contemplate our discussion. Once you’reredressed, do not delay in rejoining the company. I understand the duke planned indoor games in case of just such inclement weather.”
More games.Honoria withheld the sigh. What other humiliation lay in store? She shuddered at the possibilities.
Changed into a lovely pale-blue gown, she sat before the mirror as Susan towel-dried her hair and refashioned it into a presentable arrangement.
Why was Burwood so attentive? It couldn’t be her appearance. She’d never considered herself beautiful, as least compared to the other eligible ladies present. True, she was passably tolerable, and many people commented on her engaging smile and lovely eyes. But enough to capture a duke’s eye?
The image of Drake and Anne taunted her. Drake’s easy smile and Anne’s vivaciousness—when taken separately—lightened Honoria’s mood. But together and directed toward each other? Painful tightness squeezed her chest.
As much as she loved Anne, the idea of her married to Drake was unbearable—especially if they lived in Burwood’s household together. Being the Duchess of Burwood would not ease the sting of seeing them so happy and in love when she decidedly—was not.
She couldn’t marry Burwood. Even if that meant giving up a family of her own. If she couldn’t have Drake Merrick, if she ever married, it would have to be someone completely unassociated with him.
As guests departedto their rooms and changed from their wet clothing, Drake bounded up the stairs to his own bedchamber.
“Merrick!” Simon called from several stairs behind.
Initially planning to ignore him, Drake pressed forward until, from the corner of his eye, he caught Lord Stratford peering up from the gallery below.
It would have to behim.
Drake spun around toward Simon. “Pardon, Your Grace.” It took every ounce of willpower to keep the sarcasm at bay. “I didn’t see you there.” A lie, of course.
The image of hisfriend’sarms around Honoria stabbed him like a bayonet to the chest.Et tu, Brute?
From the expression on Simon’s face, he recognized the insincerity in Drake’s address. “A word, if you please?”
Upstairs, they slipped into the ducal bedchamber, and Drake closed the door.
“How could you?!”
“Are you mad?!”
Shouted in unison, their words mingled together, but the sentiment was undeniably clear.
With all the sarcasm he’d held back and now could muster, Drake said, “Please proceed,Your Grace.”
“Blast it, man. We’re alone. Drop the pretense.” Simon paced before him, his usual sunny disposition changing as quickly as the weather outside. “I practically delivered her in your lap, and what did you do?” He waited. Did he truly expect an answer?
Drake lifted a brow, hoping it conveyed his irritation.
Unfortunately, Simon was well versed in Drake’s mannerisms and equally adept at ignoring his displeasure.
