She looked radiant in the bright morning light, her fair complexion and tawny dark blonde hair perfectly offset by a jonquil yellow morning gown, strewn around the edges with stitched white daisies.
How anyone could contemplate doing her harm was beyond him. She was everything good and unspoiled.
“What are you reading?” he asked, as he perused the offerings at the sideboard.
Normally, Silas didn’t eat breakfast. But that was because he was usually too morose to rise from his bed before noon. It was a remarkably pleasant change of pace, having a reason to get up in the morning.
She scowled, her forehead creasing adorably, as she gestured to the leaflets before her.
“I am practically ruined. Two scandalous accidents within days of each other? Thetonis frothing at the mouth with speculation. So far, the rumours are that of a spurned lover set on retribution, an ingenious attempt to procure attention to my person or an illness that has made me weak of limb and prone to mishaps.”
“Which would you prefer?” asked Silas mildly, hiding his smile as he dished himself a hearty pile of sausages.
“Don’t make fun, this is a disaster! Where is Benedict? Do you think he has seen the papers?”
Silas cleared his throat, seating himself at the table.
“I received a note this morning. He has situated himself in a place unspecified and is busy with his enquiries. His man in town will call on me within the hour to discuss his findings here in town.”
The sight of Honora pale and listless across the table from him steeled his resolve that his resolution was the right course of action.
“I have decided to remove us from town. We shall travel to my estate in Northamptonshire, it is close enough to Benedict’s location that I can assist him if required.”
“We are to travel to Althorpe Hall? But, you never go there,” gasped Honora, gazing at him in shock.
“Be that as it may, I am not comfortable with you remaining in London. Besides, it will be the last place anyone would look for us, so it should buy us a bit of time,” said Silas grimly.
Honora nodded mutely, uncharacteristically agreeable.
Something in the vicinity of his heart clenched at the look on her face.
He wanted her smiling, laughing. Vivacious and mischievous, as she was before all this. Not pale and trembling, her eyes troubled.
“Come, you might enjoy the trip away. When was the last time you left London?” he asked, attempting to lighten the mood.
A small smile lifted the corner of her mouth. “Oh, it’s been ages. Do you keep a stable at Althorpe? It has been so long since I could go for a proper ride,” she added wistfully.
Silas grinned, tucking into his plate now that her spirits seemed improved. “Of course I do. It is the family seat of the Earl of Windham. I might avoid the place, but I have not neglected it.”
* * *
After breakfast, Silas excused himself to Benedict’s study, leaving Honora strict instructions not to go anywhere in the house without a footman.
It struck him suddenly that he had not been home, to his own townhouse, in almost a week. What’s more, there was nothing there that called to him as much as being here, being useful for once, did.
Yes, he was the Earl of Windham, with all the accompanying responsibilities, but he had stewards and solicitors and secretaries to manage the bulk of his affairs. He was more a figurehead than anything else.
He had nothing driving him, as Benedict did.
Nothing to pull him out of the melancholy that sucked him under and held him captive for weeks at a time.
Shaking off his morose thoughts, Silas reread Benedict’s note while he waited for his man to arrive.
Have traced the origin of the threat to W.
No concrete proof yet, but he is the only one who will directly benefit at large from the bill in question. I have sent Captain Starling instructions to ferret out the man responsible for taking the shot in Hyde Park, hopefully, once the perpetrator is against the wall, he will turn on his master.
The door opened and the Captain stepped inside, quickly closing the door behind him.
