Page 108 of A Portrait of Love

“Ah, an embarrassment of riches.”

“Normally I would agree with you, but, you see, I am scheduled to meet my other prospective employer in four days. I informed his lordship of this in my letter,” he added hastily. He lifted his broad shoulders and let them drop. “So, you see my predicament.”

“I shall see what I can do this afternoon, although I can promise you nothing. You must stay for dinner and be our guest for the evening.” Honey stood and he rose with her.

“I will have Hume show you to a room and send up some tea to tide you over.”

“You are most kind.” He hesitated and Honey raised her eyebrows. “I hope you won’t think me impertinent, but I was wondering—as long as I am here—if there is anyone who could show me around the estate?”

As a woman who’d always worked for her living Honey did not think this was impertinent at all. But she did not know who could accompany him on such a journey. “I’d offer my own services, but I’m afraid I only arrived here a few days ago, myself. But I will see what I can arrange.”

The door opened and it was Hume who answered the bell so she turned Heyworth over to her butler and went to look for some answers.

Chapter Thirty-One

Simon felt as weak as a baby bird, but at least the incessant drumming had gone away. It had stopped sometime in the middle of last night, but he’d still managed to lose his breakfast of weak tea and toast half an hour after eating it. So, he’d stayed in bed until noon, when he could stand the boredom no longer.

“I will have a bath, Peel,” he’d said over his servant’s mild demur. “The pain has gone. For now. And I have abandoned my bride for days. It is time I was up.”

That had proved more arduous than it sounded. It had taken a good two hours before he was ready to leave his chambers and he was just donning his coat when there was a light knock on the door.

“Come,” he called, waving away Peel when he would have buttoned Simon’s coat, as if he were a boy of five.

His wife peeked through the small gap and Simon smiled. “Come in, Honoria. Why did you not use our connecting door?”

She stepped inside, her face taut and stiff, the way it had been before they’d become lovers.

Simon took her hand and kissed her palm. “You are a sight for sore eyes, my dear.”

She blushed but remained stiff. “Are you well?”

“Yes, the pain has passed.” He tucked a stray stand of hair back behind her ear. “I’m sorry to have abandoned you. You’ll be thinking me a poor, sickly thing.”

“Of course I don’t. I’m glad you are feeling better.”

“And I’m glad you came to me.”

She dropped her eyes, suddenly shy, as if the weeks in Brighton had not happened.

Well, Simon would soon take care of that.

“There is a Mr. Heyworth here to see you.”

Simon frowned, taking his watch and fob from Peel. “I don’t recognize the name. Who is he?”

“He said he was here about the steward position.”

Simon fiddled with his watch, playing for time as he struggled to recall the name. He could not.

Peel, who had been watching him like a hen with one chick, stepped forward to pluck a non-existent piece of lint from his sleeve.

“That would be the gentleman from Leeds, would it not, my lord?”

Simon still had no recollection of such a meeting, but it was easy enough to play along until he did. “Ah, yes.” He looked at Honoria. “You have spoken to him?”

“I have invited him to dine with us and stay the night.”

“Excellent.” She still looked hesitant. “Is aught amiss?”