“Counter to what you seem to think, I have no reputation to ruin,” she pointed out. “I do not know what you believe you will earn through all this trouble.” Though she knew his pride was only wounded, and his true intent in all of this was revenge. Even if she could get the necklace back, she doubted he would hold his tongue. But she had to at least try.
“My wife’s friendship is something I know you hold dear.”
She forced her muscles to remain relaxed, though she wanted to grip the arms of her chair in blind rage. “While Laura is a dear, and someone you do not deserve, I can find other friends.”
“Can you?” He leaned back in his seat, propping one foot across his knee. “Perhaps I shall just keep a tight eye on you then. I do feel it only fair to warn those you socialize with to know just who they are allowing into their home.”
“Believe it or not, I do not go around stealing from everyone.”
“No, just me and innocent bystanders.” He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. “But let us not split hairs.”
“You know why I stole from you,” she said, keeping her voice smooth. “I did not like the offer you made.” The recollection of that night soured her stomach. Then she added in a small voice, “Nor did I wish for your wife to find the evidence.”
After Hind offered Honora the necklace and all that would come with accepting the gift, she had stolen it to keep it from her friend’s notice. If she were to see the necklace, suspicions would be aroused. And Honora really didn’t think Hind would go so far as to hold it over her head as blackmail. But she had been wrong.
“It was a simple offer,” Hind pressed on, not caring one whit about Laura or her feelings. “And one you should have taken me up on.”
“I fear I am not that desperate.” She gave him a pitying smile, causing his face to darken. “Besides. It was only an opal. Not really that tempting.”
He stood, placing his hands on top of the desk, his shoulders rigid. “You will find me that necklace, or everyone you speak to will know what you are and where you came from. Or,” he said, a bit of his ire fading, “you can take me up on my original offer.”
That was what he wanted at the end of the day—to have his way.
Standing from her chair, she mirrored his position, placing her fingertips on the desk. With every ounce of malice she could muster, she leaned forward. “I’d rather chew glass.”
His jaw hardened, but he kept his temper in check, sitting and picking up a book. “My wife will likely not be calling on you anytime soon. And if she does, it won’t be a pleasant experience.” He opened the cover and flipped a few pages as if locating the opening chapter.
Her chin wanted to tremble, but she forced it still. Her one friend in life. The only person Honora had, and she was being taken from her most unjustly. “Give me three more days. Then you can decide my fate after that.” She turned, not waiting for his reply.
When she was in the hall, she heard his voice call out to her.
“Better run, little mouse.”
Chapter Twenty
Honora squandered the day, fretting instead of doing anything productive on the search. But what could she do in the light of day? She needed the safety of darkness before attempting to find Pratt and getting the necklace back. While she was quite certain it would not change her fate—Hind being a rather overzealous, petty sort of man—she would never forgive herself if she did not at least try.
But then there was a knock at her door.
Wilson ambled over to answer it, and all Honora could do was wait, heart beating away in her chest. Hind had not agreed to the three-day time period, but neither had he said she could not have it. What if it was Laura, come to end their acquaintance once and for all?
She swallowed, biting her lip. Then Wilson walked into the room with a card in hand. Best get the ugly affair over with.
“Mr. Stanton is here to see you.”
Honora nearly lost her grip on the card. But when she looked down at it in her grasp, she was shocked to see it was in fact him.
“What could he want?” she asked aloud.
Wilson leaned over the card, reading it again. “How should I know?”
“Oh goodness,” she said, pulling it down while glaring at him. “I was not asking you.”
“Shall I bring him in?”
Honora chewed her lip, then gave a nod. “Yes. Bring him in as well as a pot of tea. He prefers it to port, apparently.”
Wilson left the room, then shortly returned with Leonard just behind him. Honora’s breath caught, her heart in her throat. He was in a deep-green coat, threading fingers through his wavy brown hair as if to put it in order after removing his topper. She swallowed.
