The room tilted, sending her back in time to the day joy seeped from her life.
Drake had stared, open-mouthed at her pronouncement. “But you promised. You said you loved me.”
What could she say? She did love him. But her mother’s counselmade her doubt that love was enough to overcome the many obstacles they would face. “I’m sorry, Drake. But I cannot marry you. I know this is difficult, but I believe it is for the best.”
His face hardened, his jaw pulsing as he flung his accusation at her. “Best for whom? You? Because I have nothing to offer? No fancy title? I’m not good enough. That’s it, isn’t it? Your father certainly thinks so.”
Her face heated, and he obviously interpreted her blush as ayes.
The pain in his eyes sliced through her.
“Best for both of us.” Even as she spoke the words, doubt of their veracity poked at her conscience. Before she could open her mouth to rescind them, Drake huffed and stomped from the room. Two days later, he was gone, enlisting in the military.
She had regretted her decision every day since.
As he stared at her across the new duke’s crowded ballroom, his accusation rang in her ears.I’m not good enough. She fought to pull in a breath.
“Honoria?” She darted a glance toward her mother’s concerned face. Her limbs grew cold. What would her father do when he saw him?
No longer in a uniform or the rough worsted shirt and trousers he’d worn as the groom on her father’s estate, on the outside Drake looked every inch the gentleman she remembered him to be on the inside. Clearly bespoke, a gorgeous bottle-green superfine coat accentuated his frame and molded to his body like a glove. Hessians polished to a mirror shine replaced worn boots covered in muck from the stables. He seemed taller than she remembered, his build stockier than the lean boy she knew.
Perhaps her father wouldn’t recognize him.
Yet, other than the sun-kissed bronze darkening his skin, his face was unmistakable. Waves of warm brown hair she longed to run her fingers through still rebelled against a comb, an errant lock breaking free and dipping against his forehead. Amber eyes searched her face, and she tried to decipher their meaning.
He didn’t smile, but darted a glance toward her mother, then her father, whereupon his distaste grew evident.
Her mother apparently followed Honoria’s line of sight, for she gave the tiniest of gasps, attracting her father’s attention.
“That must be Burwood,” her father saidsotto voce.
What?
“The dark-haired fellow speaking with Cartwright. But who is the fellow with him? He looks vaguely familiar.”
Honoria held her tongue, and her mother gave a tiny shake to her head, then grasped Honoria’s elbow for support.
The butler, Frampton, appeared beside them. “Forgive me, my lord. My ladies. An urgent matter pulled me away. Allow me to announce you.”
Honoria’s desire to shrink to nothingness was in direct contrast to Frampton’s booming voice. “The Marquess and Marchioness of Stratford. Their daughter, Lady Honoria.”
The dark-haired gentleman turned, glanced at Drake, then, smiling broadly, strode their way.
Her heart rammed against her sternum in great heavythudswhen Drake paused, then followed the dark-haired gentleman. His gaze never left hers. She waited for recognition to dawn in her father’s mind, but he appeared focused on—what had to be—the duke.
Confirming her assumption, the dark-haired man stopped before them and said, “Pierce Pendrake, Duke of Burwood, at your disposal, Lord Stratford. It saddened me to receive your son’s regrets. I hope his wife, the viscountess, recovers fully from her illness. I look forward to meeting them both soon.”
Honoria searched Drake’s face for any sign of recognition at the mention of her brother. Oh, if only he’d been able to attend. He would shield her from this untenable situation. Honoria chided herself for her selfishness. Colin’s place was at Margery’s side.
Burwood flashed a smile toward Honoria’s mother and then her. “Ladies. A pleasure.” He took her mother’s offered hand and bent low over it.
When he extended his hand to Honoria, she froze, her gaze darting to Drake, then back to Burwood. Her hand trembled as she slid it into the duke’s. He bowed and brushed a kiss against her gloved fingers. “Lady Honoria.”
When he turned toward Drake, she held her breath.
“May I introduce my man of business, Mr. Drake Merrick.”
Under other circumstances, the shock on her father’s face would have been comical. His mouth moved soundlessly as his gaze raked up and down Drake’s finely dressed body.
