Drake had no time to question it when Harcourt said, “I couldn’t help but notice, Mrs. Merrick, that you aren’t dancing.”
“Alas, I refused a dance card, leaving the merriment to those younger.”
“Then, since this is a night to break with tradition, might I suggest we also do so? Would you do me the honor of the next set?”
There was a saying about the force of a feather. Drake reeled back on his heels as his mother gave a laugh that was uncomfortably like a giggle.
“I would be delighted, Lord Harcourt.”
When the next set started and Harcourt led his mother to the dance floor, Drake wondered if he was the only man there who didn’t have the nerve to go after what he wanted.
Determined to change that, he decided Simon’s exhortation would serve dual purposes. He would make his love for Honoria clear to both her and Anne. By doing so, he prayed Anne would end things.
During the supper dance, he easily accomplished the first part of his task. Each brush of Honoria’s fingers during the quadrille sparked a fire in him, and it was no hardship to gaze adoringly at her. The question remained: Would it be enough for Anne to understand the futility of their pairing and release him?
At supper, Drake never felt more at home than with Honoria by his side. Although Simon sat at the head of the able, Drake had no trouble imagining himself there with Honoria as his duchess. Easy conversation flowed between them, his mother, and Lord Harcourt,especially as Harcourt entertained them with stories of his grandchildren.
“Pockets?” Drake asked. He remembered Dr. Marbry using the strange name after Anne’s accident.
Harcourt gave a chuckle, then wiped his mouth with the serviette. “Yes. Camilla tried to call him Philip, but Pockets just stuck to the boy. Perhaps it has something to do with his sticky fingers.”
“Pockets, Ashton’s ward Manny, and a young girl calling herself Fingers were all part of a pick-pocketing gang,” Honoria explained.
He loved how she did so without making him feel stupid. “I see a pattern with their names, except for Manny.”
When his mother placed a hand on Lord Harcourt’s sleeve, Drake felt his eyebrows lift.
“What a lovely thing for your daughter to do, sir. Taking in an orphan and providing a loving, stable home is most admirable.”
“I will admit”—a shadow passed across Lord Harcourt’s face—“Pockets helped pull me from a dark place after my wife died.”
His mother withdrew her hand, and an uneasy silence filled the gap in the conversation.
“I’ve met Manny, but haven’t had the pleasure of meeting Master Pockets,” Honoria said. “He’s a fortunate child to be raised by your daughter and Dr. Somersby, Lord Harcourt.”
Harcourt’s mood brightened. “Yes. And they are fortunate to have him. Children have a way of brightening our lives. Camilla is expecting another child in a few weeks. It’s one reason they were unable to attend. That, and Oliver volunteered to man the clinic in Ashton’s and Marbry’s absence. I couldn’t ask for a better son-in-law, and I’m so grateful Camilla has a second chance at love.”
Drake cast a glance at Honoria. Second chances at love. Exactly what he hoped for with Honoria. If it weren’t for Anne . . . He peered at Anne next to Simon.
Her gaze bounced between him and Honoria, her brow furrowing as she settled on him.
Simon nodded discreetly, and Drake took his cue.
“Lady Honoria.” If his face reflected the love flowing in his heart, Drake had no doubt his affection for Honoria would be clear to all,even Anne. “I’m looking forward to our waltz. I’ve been practicing nonstop with the dancing master.”
His heart zinged when she rewarded him with a smile.
“Is that how you’ve become such an accomplished dancer?” She stirred her pea soup aimlessly, and her cheeks bloomed with color.
“Better than when we practiced in the meadow? I believe I stepped on your feet no less than twenty times.”
“Twenty-seven to be exact. I thought my toes should never recover.” The tiny smile crossing her lips belied her words. This was the Honoria he knew so well. The shy but clever girl who had won his heart so many years ago.
Someone cleared their throat, and Drake tore his attention from Honoria. The trace of a smile crossed Harcourt’s lips, his spoon poised half-way to his mouth. “This soup is delicious. I must commend Burwood on his cook’s ability.” The sharp knowing that shone in his eyes indicated the soup wasn’t the only thing to capture his attention.
When Drake turned toward Simon and Anne, Simon’s smirk and Anne’s pained expression confirmed it.
Mission accomplished—but at what cost?
