"Let's go down by the lake." Tightening her hold on Michael's arm, she steered him along the terrace. "There's a seat, near the shore-it's peaceful and private there."
"It's a truly magnificent house," was Michael's only comment as they strolled down the lawn. They reached the seat, and she settled herself upon it; Michael hesitated, looking down at her, then sat beside her. "You could be very comfortable here, you know."
Honoria met his gaze levelly. "Just what has that devil told you?"
Michael grinned. "Not all that much-just the bare facts."
Honoria drew a relieved breath. "In that case, it should be clear that there's no need for any talk of marriage between myself and St. Ives."
Michael's brows rose. "Actually, that's not the impression I received."
"Oh?" Honoria made the syllable a challenge.
Michael tugged at his earlobe. "Perhaps we'd better retread events."
She was very ready to do so. While she recited her well-rehearsed version of events, Michael listened intently. "And then he left me with the Dowager," she concluded.
Michael met her eye. "That's what he told me."
Honoria had a premonition she'd just taken a wrong step.
Michael straightened, one hand clasping hers. "Honoria, you're an unmarried lady of twenty-four, of impeccable lineage and unblemished reputation. In this instance, I must agree with St. Ives-there's really no course open to you other than to accept his offer. He's behaved precisely as he should-no one could hold either of you to blame, yet the circumstances remain and require the prescribed response."
"No." Honoria made the word a statement. "You can't serio
usly imagine me happily married to Devil Cynster."
Michael raised his brows. "Actually, I find that easier to imagine than any other outcome."
"Michael! He's a tyrant! An unmitigatingly arrogant despot."
Michael shrugged. "You can't have everything, as Mama was wont to tell you."
Honoria narrowed her eyes; she let a pregnant moment pass before stating, categorically: "Michael, I do not wish to marry Devil Cynster."
Letting go of her hand, Michael leaned back against the seat. "So what do you see as an alternative?"
Honoria knew relief-at least they were discussing alternatives. "I'd thought to return to Hampshire-it's too late to get another post this year."
"You'll never get another post, not once this gets out. And it will. St. Ives is right about that-if you marry him, the only whispers will be jealous ones; without his ring on your finger, they'll be malicious. Destructively so."
Honoria shrugged. "That's hardly a disaster. As you know, I care little for society."
"True." Michael hesitated, then added: "You might, however, have a care for our name, and our parents' memory."
Slowly, Honoria turned to face him, her eyes very narrow. "That was uncalled for."
His expression stern, Michael shook his head. "No-it had to be said. You cannot simply walk away from who you are and the fact that you have family connections together with the responsibility that entails."
Honoria felt chilled inside, like a general informed he'd just lost his last ally. "So," she said, haughtily tilting her chin, "you would have me marry for the sake of the family-for the sake of a name I've never claimed?"
"I would see you wed first and foremost for your own sake. There's no future for you in Hampshire, or anywhere else for that matter. Look about you." He gestured to the sprawling bulk of the Place, displayed like a jewel in the grounds before them. "Here you could be what you were supposed to be. You could be what Papa and Mama always intended you to be."
Honoria pressed her lips tightly together. "I cannot live my life according to the precepts of ghosts."
"No-but you should consider the reasons behind their precepts. They may be dead, but the reasons remain."
When she said no more but sat mulishly looking down at her clasped hands, Michael continued, his tone more gentle: "I daresay this may sound pompous, but I've seen more of our world than you-that's why I'm so sure the course I urge you to is right."