With a huffed breath, Leonard stood. “Very well. I will go. Please give my regrets to Mother.”
“She doesn’t even need to know you were here,” his father said. “Just go.”
Samuel looked at their father, then gave Leonard a gentle nod. “I will let her know. Just promise to come back within the week.” He smiled.
“Very well.” Leonard forced a grin of his own for his brother’s sake. “I promise.”
Chapter Two
The sun shone brightly outside as Honora sat by the window, watching society pass by as if they did so simply for her enjoyment. Watching people was a great pastime of hers. She liked to make up stories about their lives, taking note of little details about each person. For instance, the woman and man walking by her window appeared to be married, but seemed to only tolerate one another. The lady held the man’s arm, but not with affection or security. Instead, she held it as if she were only required to.
Poor woman.
If Honora were ever to marry, she would hold her husband’s arm close to her like a treasured gift. For he would certainly be strong, affectionate, doting, handsome . . . were there any qualities she was forgetting?
Honorable, perhaps.
Though, she could not ask for things she herself could not offer in return. For while her name meant honor or dignity, she certainly did not exude those qualities. But was it her fault that she was raised by a charlatan? God rest her father’s soul, but hecould not be described as anything other than a thief. And he had taught his only daughter well.
“Marianne,” Honora called out. A new couple passed by her window, and they seemed much happier to be in one another’s company.
Slippered feet pattered across the floor. “Yes, Mrs. Gillingham?”
Honora watched the couple disappear from her view, and a pang of longing filled her chest. She turned to her lady’s maid. “Have I not told you to call me Honora? Or if you feel it is completely necessary, Mrs. Honora?”
“You have,” her maid said, bobbing her head as her eyes nervously glanced at the floor. “But it just doesn’t seem right.”
If only Marianne knew Honora’s true background. But then, she likely wouldn’t be working for her at all.
“I insist.” Honora stood, clasping her hands. “I do hate formality.”
“You shouldn’t say such a thing,” Marianne continued.
“Oh, posh. Why not?” Honora waved her off.
Marianne looked about the room, as if suddenly wondering why she had been summoned since she still had not been given a task. Little did she know there was no task to be done. Honora had only been lonely.
“Have I received any mail today?” There. Perhaps a question would put her maid at ease.
“No.” Marianne shook her head, her mouth pulling into a rueful frown. “Were you expecting something?”
She hadn’t been expecting it, though an invitation would be appreciated. For dinner, a ball, tea, a picnic, anything really. She wasn’t too picky.
“No.” Honora sighed as she fell into a chair. “I am only bored.”
This made her maid decidedly uncomfortable, looking around so she didn’t have to meet Honora’s gaze.
“Do you play chess, Marianne?”
“Hm?” Her lips pinched together with the sound, feigning ignorance as if Honora’s question hadn’t been completely straightforward.
That was a skill Honora excelled at. Reading people. Watching their body language and mannerisms. And her maid clearly did not wish to play chess with her.
“Never mind.” She flicked a hand out. “You may go, Marianne.”
Once her maid left the room, the familiar grip of loneliness worked its way into her chest. All these years in London, and she felt alone in a vast sea of people. Perhaps that was what one got when they created a life from nothing. The old life was dead and gone, and while Honora’s new life was luxurious . . . she was a nobody. And people of wealth and circumstance didn’t invitenobodiesto dine.
Chapter Three
