“Perhaps I could be of service,” she said. Her hand slid from his arm and she moved to stand before him, blocking his exit. “I have friends and acquaintances in positions of government.”
She looked so earnest, and her skin so golden in the light of the hearth. What an odd woman she was. What a beautifully odd woman. He couldn’t help himself—one corner of his mouth crooked up in a half smile. “You offer to be of service to a man you only moments ago suspected of plotting a coup against his king?”
Her skin pinkened. “I’m not so stubborn that I can’t be persuaded to another point of view.”
Marek actually chuckled. “I don’t believe you.” He didn’t trust her in the least. And yet, his smile held, because she was pretty and she was unique and he was a man and he could feel a very stark longing for female companionship. Not just any female—thisfemale. There were any number of questions he would ask her if she hadn’t accused him of treason. What works of Shakespeare had she read? How often did she visit the palace? Was she having an affair with her butler? “Thank you, but I have what I need. Please don’t feel it necessary to take any measures on my behalf.” Advice that she ought to heed for many reasons, not the least of which was that she might come to harm if she poked around too deeply into business that did not concern her. But first and foremost, because he couldn’t risk anyone knowing why he was really here. He couldn’t have anyone—Weslorian, English, or Alucian—looking at him too closely.
Shewas looking at him very closely, as a matter of fact. Her eyes searched his and caused a bit of a quake in him. “Hmm,” she said. “I suppose you’re the sort that prefers to have a go at things quite on your own.”
Yes, and he best remember that. “Je,I am.” He tried to step around her to take his leave.
But Mrs. Honeycutt dipped to her right to keep him from it. “So am I, but sometimes, it helps to have an ally. Particularly if one is on foreign soil. How shall I contact you if I discover anything more about the soldiers?”
He would dearly love to understand what drove her. But once again, he looked at her lovely eyes, and the hair tumbling around her face. She reminded him of a painting, like the candid portraits of deceased Weslorian ancestors that lined the halls of the National Museum of Art in St. Edys. In that rare moment, he wished he was someone else. In this case, an Englishman. An unencumbered Englishman with nothing but time at his disposal.
“I don’t mean to contact you atall, Mr. Brendan, if that’s what you fear. But I should like to send a note if I learn anything more about the soldiers. Would you like to know? To, ah, protect your king?”
With her shining eyes, she was a dichotomy—speaking of matters that were deadly serious and all but laughing at it. It hardly mattered—she wouldn’t learn anything about the soldiers because he didn’t think there was anything to learn. He didn’t believe they existed. “Yes, of course,” he said charitably. “The Green Hotel.”
“The Green Hotel,” she repeated softly, and her gaze, ever so slowly, slid down to his mouth. Her lips parted slightly and while he was certain he hadn’t heard it, he imagined the softest of sighs.
The heat that rose in him was startling in its immediacy and terrifying in its strength. Marek took one last look at the lovely, and slightly deranged Mrs. Honeycutt. He suspected it was the last he’d see of her.
“Good evening, Mr. Brendan,” she said pleasantly, and moved out of his way.
“Good evening, Mrs. Honeycutt,” he said, and walked out of the room, his mind still reeling a little from the rise of heat in him.
Donovan was at the door. “Thank you,” Marek said, and donned his hat.
Donovan opened the door. But he didn’t move aside, which meant Marek had to scoot past him to exit the house.
“Good evening, Mr. Brendan,” Donovan said.
Marek touched the brim of his hat and jogged down the steps to the sidewalk. He stole a glimpse back at the door before carrying on.
Donovan was standing with one shoulder against the frame, his arms folded over his chest, watching Marek with a gimlet eye.
Marek strode down the sidewalk, moving as quickly as he could from that very strange house.
He didn’t know what to make of Mrs. Honeycutt and was certain the task of understanding her was far greater than he had the patience for.
But she was a beautiful, intriguing woman.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
New patterned silk fabrics from Brussels have arrived at Debenham & Freebody for Christmas dresses. Purchase by appointment, please.
The Alucian and Weslorian peace talks continue, but it is commonly agreed that progress is still quite slow. Does it not stand to reason that progress might be improved if negotiations were open to public scrutiny? Alas, the secretive nature cannot help but suggest something is amiss.
Volunteers from the Coalition for Decency and Morality have been seen around Piccadilly Circus on some evenings, distributing leaflets warning against the dangers of loose morals. Members of the metropolitan police were also on hand.
—Honeycutt’s Gazette of Fashion and Domesticity for Ladies
IFTHEREWASone thing Hollis Honeycutt did not shy away from, it was a challenge. She’d learned that about herself when Percy had died quite suddenly, the result of a terrible carriage accident. At first, the shock of it and the inability to comprehend that she would never see Percy again had turned her into a wraith. When Hollis looked back on that time, she realized she had come dangerously close to carrying on like that for the rest of her life. She could very well have become one of those widows who never changed out of her mourning clothes, who aimlessly wandered the halls of her grand house, a mere shell without her husband. But even in the throes of grief and deep despair, in her paralysis at not knowing what to do without him, she’d heard the whispers.What will we do with Hollis?
As if she was a child. A mad child. A mad, mute child.
As she climbed the stairs to the master suite after Mr. Brendan left, she thought that she was indeed thankful she’d heard the whispers, because it had forced her to wake from her grief. It had cleared her muddied thoughts and made her see that decisions would be made for her if she didn’t make them herself.
