She smiled affectionately at his familiar presence, immensely glad to see him.
Even when they were young, Benedict had always been there for her when she needed him. Coming to her room at night to comfort her when nightmares woke her, or bringing her sandwiches pilfered from the luncheon table when her governess sent her to bed without supper.
Although younger by almost ten years, Honora had always been the wilder of the two Seton children. Always the one in trouble, with scraped shins or muddy shoes.
When their parents died tragically of fever within days of each other, Benedict had become even more serious, if possible. Solemnly taking up the mantle of the Viscountcy at the young age of seventeen without a single complaint.
But even then, Benedict had always made sure to keep her at his side. Knowing that Honora needed him to steady her, even at the expense of his own grief and worries.
He had been a responsible, kindhearted boy, and now he was a serious, but good man.
If only he could find a woman who could bring some joy to his life. But he always told Honora he was too busy for courting.
She smiled, rolling to the edge of the bed and shaking his shoulder lightly. “Wake up Benedict, before your neck stays crooked.”
He stirred, blearily opening his eyes and looking at her with alarm. “Honora, you are awake.”
“Yes. You snore, did you know that?”
The look of concern was quickly eclipsed by the more familiar frown of irritation, much to Honora’s approval.
“I see the fall hasn’t shaken any sense of decorum into you,” he huffed, straightening in the seat. “The doctor was worried you had a concussion.”
Honora reached up and discovered the goose egg on her head, feeling all around it and wincing at the sting of pain. A slice of pain radiated out from her upper arm at the movement, and the whole terrible incident flashed through her mind.
“Yes, a most unfortunate accident. I am sorry. But it seems I will survive.”
Benedict crossed to the bell pull, ringing for tea.
“I am afraid it wasn’t an accident.”
Honora sat up in the bed, her eyes going wide with alarm. “What? You must be mistaken-”
Benedict frowned, his mouth twisting as he searched for the words. “I wish I was. But just after you arrived home, a note was delivered to me. It was very clearly spelt out – you were the target.”
Honora stared at her brother in shock, her mind spinning as she tried to make sense of what he was saying.
“The note was addressed to you? But, does that mean… Does someone want to harm you, Benedict?”
He nodded gravely, his mouth opening, and then closing as the maid knocked on the door.
Honora held her tongue as tea was placed beside her, a piece of toast thickly smeared with butter wafting a tempting aroma into the air.
Finally, the girl left, and Honora waved at Benedict to continue, cradling her injured arm to her chest as she reached for her cup.
He cleared his throat, rubbing his eyes as he took a bracing gulp of tea. “It appears the attack on you was a warning to me. There might be another attempt on your life, while I find who did this and put a stop to their machinations.”
“Good Lord, I don’t understand, why would anyone want to harm you?”
He sighed, his face taking on an expression she knew only too well. It was the one reserved for long-winded explanations about party politics and the intrigues at court.
She held up her hand to halt his explanation. “Never mind. It’s far too early for this and my head is pounding fit to burst. I know you will do what’s best, Benedict.”
“I am glad you think that way, Nora. I have made arrangements for your security in the interim. I find I must go to Durham urgently.”
“Oh? Am I to be confined to house arrest while you galavant heroically across the country?”
A rare smile broke over his features, drawing forth an answering grin of her own.
