“Hence their delayed arrival?” Simon asked.
“Indeed.” Lady Miranda answered.
“Speaking of horses, Merrick here is an expert horseman. I expect he will outride us all during the fox hunt. Now if you will excuse us.” Simon nodded in the direction of the myriad of other guests anxiously awaiting them.
Damn, but Simon was good at playing the duke.
“I shall look forward to it, Your Grace.” Lady Miranda’s warm brown eyes assessed Drake. “Mr. Merrick. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
As they moved to another group of vultures—err—guests, Simon leaned in. “Charming, that one. Keep her in mind. She obviously has a sense of humor.”
Drake’s eyes landed on the bubbly redhead in the next group. He’d noticed her immediately as they entered the room. She vibrated with energy.
Too young to be the lady’s father, the man with red hair standing by her side still bore an uncanny resemblance. He bowed. “Andrew Weatherby, Your Grace. May I present my wife, Alice, and my sister, Miss Anne Weatherby.”
Simon bent over the blonde’s hand. “Mrs. Weatherby. A pleasure.” He placed a kiss on the sister’s hand. “Miss Weatherby. Charmed.”
The young lady giggled.
Drake refrained from shuddering.
“May I present my man of business and best friend, Mr. Drake Merrick? I don’t know what I would have done without Merrick when the news arrived of my grandfather’s death.”
Drake shook Mr. Weatherby’s hand and bowed over the ladies’ extended gloved fingers.
Miss Weatherby giggled again. “Will there be a ball, Your Grace?” She batted her eyelashes.
Lord, help them all.
“Anne.” Her brother’s censorious tone had no effect on her.
“But of course, Miss Weatherby. What would a proper Englishhouse party be without a ball? Perhaps you might reserve a dance for both me and Mr. Merrick?”
Drake thought the girl would swoon into Simon’s arms on the spot. Luckily, she remained upright.
“Now, if you would excuse us while we greet my other guests.”
Moving along, Simon whispered, “Stay by my side at all times around that one. I may find myself headed to the altar, whether I want to or not. And what a disappointment for her when she finds outI’mthe man of business.”
Two men waited in the next group. Thank goodness.
As Simon chatted cordially with Lord Cartwright and his son, Mr. Victor Pratt, the hairs on the back of Drake’s neck tingled. In slow motion, he turned toward the entrance of the ballroom.
His stomach tumbled. Standing in the doorway next to her parents, Honoria waited, as pretty as ever. No. Not merely pretty. A serene maturity replaced the youthful features, her figure filling out in all the right places. She had bloomed into an incredibly stunning woman. Her smile, although lovely, had a sadness about it as she scanned the room. Until she skewered him with her gaze.
Then the smile vanished.
The air grew thick—reminiscentof the stifling carriage—holding her in place. She blinked, trying to clear her vision. It couldn’t be.
Yet her heart said otherwise.
How?
When?
Why?
Foreboding squeezed her chest as Drake locked eyes with her.
