A name wasn’t necessary. Simon knew full well who Drake meant. He nodded. “And her parents and brother. Should I have left them off the list?”
“No. Yes . . . I don’t know.” He threaded a hand through his hair. “No. It would be seen as a slight to exclude them. After all, her father is a marquess.”
“You’ll be fine, Drake. Now, come. The dancing master awaits.”
As Drake followed his friend inside the palatial home, he doubted Simon’s words. How would he ever be fine once he laid eyes on Honoria again?
CHAPTER 2
THREE WEEKS LATER. . .
The journey from Honoria’s father’s seat in Somerset to the Duke of Burwood’s in Dorset had been fraught with difficulty.
Not long after they had set out, their carriage had become mired in mud from a sudden downpour. She and her parents huddled under umbrellas as the driver and footmen worked to free it, cracking a wheel in the process.
Two hours later, with the wheel repaired and their clothes damp from the rain, they piled back into the carriage and proceeded onward.
The storm eased, the persistent splashing of rain against the carriage roof and windows slowing to aplop, plop, plop, and the sun broke through the clouds.
They’d left at ten that morning, but heat from the midday sun—although drying the puddles on the ground outside—turned the inside into a damp oven reminiscent of the waters of Bath.
Air, thick and sticky, saturated the cramped space of the carriage. Perspiration dotted Honoria’s upper lip and brow, and she dabbed it with a handkerchief.
In vain, her mother waved the fan to generate a breeze, only to stir the hot air. “It’s stifling in here.”
Honoria’s father barked a laugh. “Given his time in India, no doubt it will be as a cool breeze to Burwood.”
Mention of India made Honoria’s mind wander to . . . Drake.
Memories of him had risen from the recesses of her mind more often than she cared to admit over the past eight years.
Memories which had prevented her from opening her heart to another.
When her father had released her dowry, she’d hoped her days of fending off suitors had finally passed. None would ever compare to Drake, and she grew weary of finding excuses to reject perfectly nice gentlemen.
But with her father’s enthusiasm over the new duke’s unmarried status, it would seem she would be put to the test once again. Her stomach churned at the prospect.
She stared out the carriage window.
India. Drake.Memories pushed themselves front and center.
Her father pulled out his watch. “With the time we’ve lost, we’ll have to stop in Chard for the night.” He banged his cane on the carriage ceiling, then gave instructions to the driver.
At the inn at Chard, they discovered only two available rooms remained. As if her father could change the situation by demanding it, he said to the innkeeper, “But I have servants in need of lodging as well.”
The innkeeper’s smile reversed direction. “If I had more rooms, I would gladly offer them. What would you have me do, my lord? Turn the current occupants out?”
Honoria held her breath, hoping her father wouldn’t make a scene and suggest exactly that. From the expression on his face, he no doubt considered it.
“Perhaps the ostler will allow them to sleep in the stables,” the innkeeper suggested.
Honoria caught the horrified look on her maid’s face. “Father, Susan may stay in my room.”
Her father pursed his lips. “What about your mother’s lady’s maid?”
Watson was another matter entirely. The woman’s sour expression spoke of her constant disapproval over just about everything.
Honoria worried her bottom lip with her teeth. It was only one night, after all. “Of course, Watson as well. We shall make a nice cozy night of it.” She forced a weak smile.
