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Authors: Julia London
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sister and return the slippers. Now go and dress for supper.”
“But we’ve only just had tea,” Mercy complained.
“Go on, darling,” her mother said, giving her a gentle push in the direction of the stairs. To Honor, she offered her arm, which Honor was happy to take. She let the ribbons of her bonnet flutter behind them as they walked. She noticed that the embroidery on her mother’s sleeve was damaged—the threading was coming loose. “What’s happened here?” she asked, bending over it to have a look.
“What?” Her mother scarcely glanced down at her sleeve. “Never mind it. Where have you been this afternoon?” she asked as they began to make their ascent.
“Nowhere, really.” She gave her mother a sheepish smile.
“I know you better than that, Honor. I would guess that your absence from tea involved a gentleman.”
Honor could feel herself flush. “Mamma—”
“You don’t have to tell me,” she said, squeezing her hand fondly. “But your poor mother hopes that you are at least considering the idea that the time has come for you to settle on a single suitor and think of marrying as you ought.”
“Why ought I marry now?” Honor asked. The thought of marrying now was unnerving. She felt too...unfinished.
“Because you should,” her mother said. “There is a whole new world awaiting your entry. You needn’t be timid about it.”
“Timid! They call me a swashbuckler, Mamma.”
“Yes, well, perhaps you are a swashbuckler in the ballroom. But I know my girl, and I think your heart is yet bruised.”
In moments like this, it was difficult to believe that her mother was slipping. In moments like this, Honor believed she wasn’t, that she and Grace had imagined it all. Her mother seemed at ease, very present in the moment and quite motherly. “What shall I wear to supper?” Honor asked, blatantly changing the subject before her mother could question her further.
Her mother laughed. “Very well, have it your way. The blue silk,” she said. “It complements your coloring so very well.”
“The blue, then,” Honor said.
She accompanied her mother to her suite of rooms and rang for Hannah to attend her. She moved on to her suite of rooms. She was not surprised to find Grace within, standing on the new Aubusson rug, her arms folded tightly across her body. Light streamed in from windows opened to late afternoon sun, casting shadows across the silk-covered walls of Honor’s rooms and Grace’s face.
But the shadows did not hide Grace’s ire. “Where have you been?” she demanded.
“Out.”
“Yes, yes, quite obviously you have been out . Hardy said you took the coach to Gunter’s.”
“What of it?” Honor asked with a shrug.
“I can’t imagine why you would venture out alone to Gunter’s, alone. One does not enjoy an ice alone . I can’t help but wonder if there was someone there waiting for you. Was there? Perhaps a certain unclaimed son of a duke who might have been taking his tea?”
Honor blinked. “How could you possibly know that?” she exclaimed.
“Mercy saw you speaking to a gentleman in the park, silly bird. She described him perfectly.”
“It would seem those spectacles are improving her sight better than we’d hoped,” Honor drawled, and carelessly tossed her bonnet onto her bed.
“Then you don’t deny it?”
“No,” Honor said.
“Lord in heaven!” Grace exclaimed to the papier-mȃché ropes and cherubs that adorned the ceiling. “You promised me!”
“I know.”
“Think of the scandal you invite!”
“Grace! There is no scandal. I am sorry if—”
“Spare me your apologies, please,” Grace said, and dropped dramatically onto the chaise longue before the hearth. “You never mean to do it, you are always sorry. When you suggested this ridiculous plan, I laughed. I was naive to think that even you wouldn’t go through with it, that even you wouldn’t risk so much for a lark.”
Honor frowned, miffed that Grace knew her so
“But we’ve only just had tea,” Mercy complained.
“Go on, darling,” her mother said, giving her a gentle push in the direction of the stairs. To Honor, she offered her arm, which Honor was happy to take. She let the ribbons of her bonnet flutter behind them as they walked. She noticed that the embroidery on her mother’s sleeve was damaged—the threading was coming loose. “What’s happened here?” she asked, bending over it to have a look.
“What?” Her mother scarcely glanced down at her sleeve. “Never mind it. Where have you been this afternoon?” she asked as they began to make their ascent.
“Nowhere, really.” She gave her mother a sheepish smile.
“I know you better than that, Honor. I would guess that your absence from tea involved a gentleman.”
Honor could feel herself flush. “Mamma—”
“You don’t have to tell me,” she said, squeezing her hand fondly. “But your poor mother hopes that you are at least considering the idea that the time has come for you to settle on a single suitor and think of marrying as you ought.”
“Why ought I marry now?” Honor asked. The thought of marrying now was unnerving. She felt too...unfinished.
“Because you should,” her mother said. “There is a whole new world awaiting your entry. You needn’t be timid about it.”
“Timid! They call me a swashbuckler, Mamma.”
“Yes, well, perhaps you are a swashbuckler in the ballroom. But I know my girl, and I think your heart is yet bruised.”
In moments like this, it was difficult to believe that her mother was slipping. In moments like this, Honor believed she wasn’t, that she and Grace had imagined it all. Her mother seemed at ease, very present in the moment and quite motherly. “What shall I wear to supper?” Honor asked, blatantly changing the subject before her mother could question her further.
Her mother laughed. “Very well, have it your way. The blue silk,” she said. “It complements your coloring so very well.”
“The blue, then,” Honor said.
She accompanied her mother to her suite of rooms and rang for Hannah to attend her. She moved on to her suite of rooms. She was not surprised to find Grace within, standing on the new Aubusson rug, her arms folded tightly across her body. Light streamed in from windows opened to late afternoon sun, casting shadows across the silk-covered walls of Honor’s rooms and Grace’s face.
But the shadows did not hide Grace’s ire. “Where have you been?” she demanded.
“Out.”
“Yes, yes, quite obviously you have been out . Hardy said you took the coach to Gunter’s.”
“What of it?” Honor asked with a shrug.
“I can’t imagine why you would venture out alone to Gunter’s, alone. One does not enjoy an ice alone . I can’t help but wonder if there was someone there waiting for you. Was there? Perhaps a certain unclaimed son of a duke who might have been taking his tea?”
Honor blinked. “How could you possibly know that?” she exclaimed.
“Mercy saw you speaking to a gentleman in the park, silly bird. She described him perfectly.”
“It would seem those spectacles are improving her sight better than we’d hoped,” Honor drawled, and carelessly tossed her bonnet onto her bed.
“Then you don’t deny it?”
“No,” Honor said.
“Lord in heaven!” Grace exclaimed to the papier-mȃché ropes and cherubs that adorned the ceiling. “You promised me!”
“I know.”
“Think of the scandal you invite!”
“Grace! There is no scandal. I am sorry if—”
“Spare me your apologies, please,” Grace said, and dropped dramatically onto the chaise longue before the hearth. “You never mean to do it, you are always sorry. When you suggested this ridiculous plan, I laughed. I was naive to think that even you wouldn’t go through with it, that even you wouldn’t risk so much for a lark.”
Honor frowned, miffed that Grace knew her so
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