Honora swallowed against the tightness in her throat, her hands twisting at her gown as she fought against a myriad of emotions.
“I am to be her companion?” she said, her voice only just a whisper as her father nodded.
She had always been aware that Lady Langdon, her aunt, had only ever considered her own happiness and her own situation, but to invite your niece to London as your companion rather than chaperone her for a Season surely spoke of selfishness!
“It is not what you might have hoped for, I know,” her father continued, sounding resigned as a small sigh escaped his lips, his shoulders slumping. Honora looked up at him, seeing him now a little grey and realizing the full extent of his weariness. Some of her upset faded as she took in her father’s demeanor, knowing that his lack of financial security was not his doing. The estate lands had done poorly these last three years, what with drought one year and flooding the next. As such, money had been ploughed into the ground to restore it and yet it would not become profitable again for at least another year. She could not blame her father for that. And yet, her heart had struggled against such news, trying to be glad that she would be in London but broken-hearted to learn that her aunt wanted her as her companion and nothing more. “I will not join you, of course,” Lord Greene continued, coming a little closer to Honora and tilting his head just a fraction, studying his daughter carefully and, perhaps, all too aware of her inner turmoil. “You can, of course, choose to refuse your aunt’s invitation – but I can offer you nothing more than what is being given to you at present, Nora. This may be your only opportunity to be in London.”
Honora blinked rapidly against the sudden flow of hot tears that threatened to pour from her eyes, should she permit them.
“It is very good of my aunt,” she managed to say, trying to be both gracious and thankful whilst ignoring the other, more negative feelings which troubled her. “Of course, I shall go.”
Lord Greene smiled sadly, then reached out and settled one hand on Honora’s shoulder, bending down just a little as he did so.
“My dear girl, would that I could give you more. You already have enough to endure, with the loss of your mother when you were just a child yourself. And now you have a poor father who cannot provide for you as he ought.”
“I understand, Father,” Honora replied quickly, not wanting to have her father’s soul laden with guilt. “Pray, do not concern yourself. I shall be contented enough with what Lady Langdon has offered me.”
Her father closed his eyes and let out another long sigh, accompanied this time with a shake of his head.
“She may be willing to allow you a little freedom, my dear girl,” he said, without even the faintest trace of hope in his voice. “My sister has always been inclined to think only of herself, but there may yet be a change in her character.”
Honora was still trying to accept the news that she was to be a companion to her aunt and could not make even a murmur of agreement. She closed her eyes, seeing a vision of herself standing in a ballroom, surrounded by ladies and gentlemen of theton. She could almost hear the music, could almost feel the warmth on her skin… and then realized that she would be sitting quietly at the back of the room, able only to watch, and not to engage with any of it. Pain etched itself across her heart and Honora let out a long, slow breath, allowing the news to sink into her very soul.
“Thank you, Father.” Her voice was hoarse but her words heartfelt, knowing that her father was doing his very best for her in the circumstances. “I will be a good companion for my aunt.”
“I am sure that you will be, my dear,” he said, quietly. “And I will pray that, despite everything, you might find a match – even in the difficulties that face us.”
The smile faded from Honora’s lips as, with that, her father left the room. There was very little chance of such a thing happening, as she was to be a companion rather than a debutante. The realization that she would be an afterthought, a lady worth nothing more than a mere glance from the moment that she set foot in London, began to tear away at Honora’s heart, making her brow furrow and her lips pull downwards. There could be no moments of sheer enjoyment for her, no time when she was not considering all that was required of her as her aunt’s companion. She would have to make certain that her thoughts were always fixed on her responsibilities, that her intentions were settled on her aunt at all times. Yes, there would be gentlemen to smile at and, on the rare chance, mayhap even converse with, but her aunt would not often permit such a thing, she was sure. Lady Langdon had her own reasons for going to London for the Season, whatever they were, and Honora was certain she would take every moment for herself.
“I must be grateful,” Honora murmured to herself, setting aside her book completely as she rose from her chair and meandered towards the window.
Looking out at the grounds below, she took in the gardens, the pond to her right and the rose garden to her left. There were so many things here that held such beauty and, with it, such fond memories that there was a part of her, Honora had to admit, which did not want to leave it, did not want to set foot in London where she might find herself in a new and lower situation. There was security here, a comfort which encouraged her to remain, which told her to hold fast to all that she knew – but Honora was all too aware that she could not. Her future was not here. When her father passed away, if she was not wed, then Honora knew that she would be left to continue on as a companion, just to make certain that she had a home and enough coin for her later years. That was not the future she wanted but, she considered, it might very well be all that she could gain. Tears began to swell in her eyes, and she dropped her head, squeezing her eyes closed and forcing the tears back. This was the only opportunity she would have to go to London and, whilst it was not what she had hoped for, Honora had to accept it for what it was and begin to prepare herself for leaving her father’s house – possibly, she considered, for good. Clasping both hands together, Honora drew in a long breath and let it out slowly as her eyes closed and her shoulders dropped.
A new part of her life was beginning. A new and unexpected future was being offered to her, and Honora had no other choice but to grasp it with both hands.
Chapter One
Pushing all doubt aside, Robert walked into White’s with the air of someone who expected not only to be noticed, but to be greeted and exclaimed over in the most exaggerated manner. His chin lifted as he snapped his fingers towards one of the waiting footmen, giving him his request for the finest of brandies in short, sharp words. Then, he continued to make his way inside, his hands swinging loosely by his sides, his shoulders pulled back and his chest a little puffed out.
“Goodness, is that you?”
Robert grinned, his expectations seeming to be met, as a gentleman to his left rose to his feet and came towards him, only for him to stop suddenly and shake his head.
“Forgive me, you are not Lord Johnstone,” he said, holding up both hands, palms out, towards Robert. “I thought that you were he, for you have a very similar appearance.”
Grimacing, Robert shrugged and said not a word, making his way past the gentleman and finding a slight heat rising into his face. To be mistaken for another was one thing, but to remain entirely unrecognized was quite another! His doubts attempted to come rushing back. Surely someone would remember him, would remember what he had done last Season?
“Lord Crampton, good evening.”
Much to his relief, Robert heard his title being spoken and turned his head to the right, seeing a gentleman sitting in a high-backed chair, a glass of brandy in his hand and a small smile on his face as he looked up at Robert.
“Good evening, Lord Marchmont,” Robert replied, glad indeed that someone, at least, had recognized him. “I am back in London, as you can see.”
“I hope you find it a pleasant visit,” came the reply, only for Lord Marchmont to turn away and continue speaking to another gentleman sitting opposite – a man whom Robert had neither seen, nor was acquainted with. There was no suggestion from Lord Marchmont about introducing Robert to him and, irritated, Robert turned sharply away. His head dropped, his shoulders rounded, and he did not even attempt to keep his frustration out of his expression. His jaw tightened, his eyes blazed and his hands balled into fists.
Had they all forgotten him so quickly?
Practically flinging himself into a large, overstuffed armchair in the corner of White’s, Robert began to mutter darkly to himself, almost angry about how he had been treated. Last Season he had been the talk of London! Why should he be so easily forgotten now? Unpleasant memories rose, of being inconspicuous, and disregarded, when he had first inherited his title. He attempted to push them aside, but his upset grew steadily so that even the brandy he was given by the footman – who had spent some minutes trying to find Lord Crampton – tasted like ash in his mouth. Nothing took his upset away and Robert wrapped it around his shoulders like a blanket, huddling against it and keeping it close to him.