“I suppose the men can sleep in the stables.” Her father tossed coins down in front of the innkeeper. “Very well. The two rooms will have to be sufficient.”
After the footmen brought in their trunks, Watson left to assist Honoria’s mother.
Susan helped Honoria out of her damp gown. “That was very thoughtful of you, my lady.”
Honoria patted Susan’s hand. “I couldn’t have allowed you to sleep in a stable with the men. It would be neither proper nor safe.”
A sly grin spread across her maid’s face. “I meant about Watson. She snores, my lady. You will be regretting your kindness in the morning.”
The anxiety she’d felt all day eased, and a laugh traveled up her throat and found release the same moment Watson entered the room.
The woman raised a wiry gray eyebrow, and her lips pressed in such a tight line only a sliver of pink remained.
Both Honoria and Susan turned away to keep their amusement from Watson’s critical gaze. Susan let out a little snort sounding very much like a snore.
Defenses down and weary to the bone from travel, Honoria struggled not to devolve into fits of laughter, something she had rarely done in the past eight years and sorely missed. Her shoulders began to shake as she tried desperately to hold it in.
“Susan,” Watson barked from behind them. “I suggest you lay out some dry clothes for Lady Honoria and cease your childish behavior. If you ever wish to become a lady’s maid for a first lady of the house, you must maintain the proper decorum.”
“Yes, Watson.” Susan removed a muslin gown from the trunk, laying it out on the bed. The moment of shared merriment vanished.
Later that night, Honoria lay in the bed while Susan and Watsonslept on pallets made from extra pillows and blankets the innkeeper provided. No doubt at her father’s insistence.
True to Susan’s prediction, Watson snored loudly, the sound coming in fits and starts.
The maid rolled her eyes, let out several rather loud pretend snores, then covered her head with a pillow and turned over.
Alone in the dark, Honoria released the laughter she’d withheld earlier, laughing so hard tears came to her eyes.
She hadn’t laughed that hard and long since . . . since Drake. Like a phantom, the memory resurrected itself.
Near the river on her father’s estate.
She’d gone riding, and, as groom, Drake had accompanied her.
Bright, midday sun lightened his hair at the crown, giving the appearance of a halo. Whenever he cast a glance her way, her heart increased its pace, and her stomach became all tingly. His little lopsided smile made her think he held a secret.
She could gaze at him forever and never tire of the sight. Unwittingly, she exhaled a sigh.
“You’re tired. We should stop and rest,” he said.
He dismounted, then assisted her down—the action performed numerous times in the past suddenly more intimate as his hands lingered at her waist longer than was appropriate. His gaze locked with hers.
Her heart increased its tempo, and her cheeks heated. When he grinned at her, her stomach performed an odd flip.
“Wait here.” He turned and stooped near the river’s edge where the water forget-me-nots grew. Buttercup, her gentle mare, nudged him from behind with her muzzle, pushing him into the water.
Her rapidly beating heart rose to her throat, lodging there like an unmovable boulder. “Oh, no!” she gasped, her hand covering her mouth.
Poor Drake. How mortifying.
He sat up, his cheeks reddened. Then he laughed, clutching the flowers in his hand. “I suppose Buttercup thought the flowers needed a drink of water.”
She laughed along with him and the tension eased, as if she hadcome home from a long, arduous journey and found a kindred spirit waiting. Someone with whom she could be herself.
Warmth flooded her as she gazed at him. Love. Pure and simple. She wasin lovewith Drake Merrick, the feeling so overpowering it occupied every inch of her.
Even eight long years later, the feeling had never left, preventing her from even considering another suitor.
