He was still as blindingly handsome as before.
A wisp of something raw and primal curled inside her, a pleasurable but unwelcome sensation. Honora didn’t want Southwell’s presence to have such an effect on her. She put it down to nerves and hastily turned away.
Tarrington must be dealt with first. A few days ago, Honora had nearly decided to let him down gently, feeling some regret over humiliating him in such a public way. But then Emmie had brought her the news Tarrington had once more wagered on Honora, as if she was some prized broodmare. He’d bet a very large sum that she would agree to be his mistress tonight.
Tarrington was about to be far less wealthy in addition to being mocked.
The huge bulge of his stomach jiggled with every step as he came forward, fingertips smoothing over the full mustache he sported. Thin strands of sandy hair were swept over an increasingly bald pate. His limbs were spindly in comparison to the rest of his rounded form, giving him the appearance of an egg with legs. Though Honora had never liked him years ago, she’d at least found him handsome. But his patrician good looks had since faded. Now his features were clearly stamped with the signs of a gentleman who likes spirits and rich food far too much. Cruelty to others had curled his upper lip into a perpetual sneer. His eyes were filled with greed and avarice. Not to mention his foul breath.
Tarrington’s outward appearance now matched his odious personality.
Honora was going to enjoy this, though she shouldn’t. She never considered herself the sort of person who would take petty revenge, but in Tarrington’s case, she was making an exception. Upon meeting the Widow Culpepper several weeks ago, Tarrington had flirted and made improper comments. Danced with her. Tried to steal a kiss that, quite frankly, had left Honora nearly gagging with revulsion. She’d pretended modesty to put him off. Tarrington assumed she would jump at the chance to reach an understanding with him. During his pursuit, he had never once recognized her. He was so pathetic she’d nearly abandoned her plans to humiliate him at the Pemberton ball. Then Tarrington had wagered on her. Again.
Self-indulged idiot.If she didn’t put Tarrington in his place, who would?
“Mrs. Culpepper.” Tarrington took her fingers. The very touch of his hand filled her with disgust. Several of Lady Pemberton’s guests turned to watch, which was exactly what Honora wanted them to do. She’d deliberately made a grand entrance.
“Lord Tarrington.”
“Mrs. Culpepper, you look divine this evening, if I may say so.”
Smug. The very same look Tarrington had had on his face when he’d shamed her at this ball nearly six years ago. Every time he’d snorted and called her a piglet echoed in her ears.
Honora allowed a small, seductive turn of her lips. “And I, you, my lord. I looked for you the moment I arrived.”
He puffed up like a rooster about to crow. Honora was half-worried he’d split his waistcoat and she’d be treated to the unwelcome sight of his corseted form, for surely something was containing all that…fleshiness.
Tarrington held tightly to her hand, shooting the small groups gathered around them a satisfied smile, certain he’d won not only her but his wager. “Minx.” He lowered his voice. “I am as eager as you are to come to an understanding between us. Shall we dance?”
Honora regarded him with wide, innocent eyes before wrenching her hand from his as if he disgusted her. Which he did.
“Mrs. Culpepper, let us not play games. I’ve made my intentions clear.” His eyes left her to glance about the room. Tarrington did so like to be the center of attention, though she was sure this wasn’t at all what he’d been planning. “If not a dance, perhaps some cool, night air would suit you.”
Honora wiped her hand deliberately against her skirts. “Your meager charms, my lord,” she said in a voice just loud enough that those around them could hear, “aren’t nearly enough to induce me to take a breath of air with you, let alone anything else. Your ego, I fear, is as inflated as the rest of you.”
“How dare you.” The pale eyes grew wild.
She leaned forward, whispering close to his cheek, “At leastIwill have wonmywager, Lord Tarrington. I doubt you can say the same.” Honora snorted quietly in his ear. “Here, piggy, piggy.” She straightened, waiting for him to discern Miss Drevenport in the widow he’d pursued for weeks.
Tarrington, the dolt, only gave her a confused look.
How disappointing. It took some of the pleasure out of her revenge to know he still didn’t recognize her, but she supposed the memory of Miss Drevenport had faded for Tarrington as it had for everyone else in London. Honora had been barely out when he’d humiliated her. Friendless. Reintroduced to the same people over and over without making the least impression. Years shut away with Culpepper, who’d barely mentioned he had a wife.
Then Honora laughed. Loudly.Merrily.Remembering the way Tarrington had laughed so hard at her discomfort that night tears had rolled down his cheeks.
Tarrington’s face turned an alarming shade of purple as comprehension flashed in his eyes. “You bitch,” he hissed for her ears alone.
The entire ballroom fell silent but only for a moment. Then muted sounds of amusement floated in the air. A lady’s giggle came from behind a fan. All eyes were on Tarrington as he stepped back from her, head held high, walking away as fast as his spindly legs could carry him.
She nodded politely to those around before making her way to the refreshment table, hearing the whispers ebb and flow around her. “Oh dear,” she said to no one in particular. “I do hope he didn’t wager too much.”
“That was delightful,” Emmie declared at Honora’s approach. “I shall never forget the look on his face.”
“Nor I,” Honora said.
“Feel better?” Emmie looked after Tarrington. “I know I do after what he did to you. And don’t you dare feel guilty later. Not for Tarrington. He’s a beast. Do you think he finally figured out who you were?”
“Not until just before he walked away. I had to snort like a pig to jog his memory. Honestly, I’m not sure whether I should be offended Miss Drevenport didn’t make a lasting impression. And I don’t expect to feel any regret over Tarrington.”
