black curls moving as she turned in the dance. Those
tightly woven curls would come down his hands, bathing his body in
warm silk. "I intend to win her, Mrs. Ardmore," he said. "I'd be
obliged if you didn't stand too much in the way."
Diana gave him a quiet look. "Honoria is my
sister now, as well as my friend. I want only her happiness."
"If you want her to be happy, then make sure
she doesn't marry Templeton."
They both turned to study Mr. Templeton, who
was chatting animatedly with his mother on the other side of the
room and flourishing his false sword.
After a moment of watching, Diana said. "I
believe you are right. Though I wish I knew more about you."
"Ask your husband. But wait until Honoria and
I are far away before you do."
Diana studied him a long time, then she gave
him a nod. Christopher felt a small taste of triumph. An ally was a
useful thing to have.
Templeton approached them then and asked
Christopher if he'd show him the proper way to use a pirate sword.
Christopher's mood had lightened enough that he led the man out of
the ballroom, fetched a real sword from Finley, and took Templeton
down to the garden.
*** *** ***
Honoria watched with direst forebodings as
Mr. Templeton departed the ballroom with Christopher. She turned
her head to try to keep them in view, not easy with the complicated
patterns of the cotillion. She craned her head this way and that
and missed several steps, earning a puzzled frown from Mr.
Henderson.
When the dance ended, Mr. Henderson led
Honoria back to her chair and fetched her an ice, which she did not
want. She was about to push the ice on Mrs. Templeton and rush
after Christopher, but Grayson turned up to claim his country
dance.
When Honoria tried to beg off, he said, "Oh
no you don't," and towed her without mercy to the middle of the
floor.
The former pirate danced with enthusiasm and
exuberance. He whirled Honoria with such force she feared she'd fly
across the room if he let her go. But Grayson also moved with feral
grace, and other ladies cast her looks of envy.
When the dance finished, Honoria, breathless,
sought the balcony, needing air and solitude. Grayson cheerfully
let her go and went in search of his wife.
The balcony was dark and relatively empty.
Honoria rested her hands on the balustrade, happy for the silence
and the coolness on her aching brow.
She would stand here a moment, then scour the
house for Christopher and Mr. Templeton. If Christopher had
revealed the secret of their marriage, she would . . . well, she
would speak to him quite sharply.
Mr. Templeton deserved to be told, but in a
gentle way. Christopher might spring it upon him, as blunt as ever,
and Mr. Templeton would be upset. And Honoria wouldn't blame Mr.
Templeton one bit.
She leaned on the stone balustrade, drawing
in air scented with roses, coal smoke, and whatever happened to be
in the River Thames tonight. The other ladies' reactions to
Christopher in the ballroom had not escaped Honoria's notice.
They'd watched him either openly or coyly from behind fans, as
though they'd like to lap him up, suit and all.
They made her quite irritated, really.
Christopher was hers to lap, if anyone would do any lapping.
Honoria suddenly wished Christopher would
enter the terrace behind her, come to her, slide his broad hands
around her waist. She'd lean back against his warmth, feel his
breath on her skin, hear his strong voice whisper her name. She
drew her hand across her abdomen as heat coiled there.
A noise below startled her out of her
fantasy, and she looked down into the garden.
What she saw froze her blood. A cluster of
gentlemen stood on the grass, their attention riveted on two
swordsmen near the fountain. One was Mr. Templeton. The other was
Christopher.
Mr. Templeton held his makeshift sword
clumsily, fearfully eying the steel sword in Christopher's hand. As
Honoria watched in horror, Christopher came at Mr. Templeton,
driving him backward, the point of his sword aimed straight
tightly woven curls would come down his hands, bathing his body in
warm silk. "I intend to win her, Mrs. Ardmore," he said. "I'd be
obliged if you didn't stand too much in the way."
Diana gave him a quiet look. "Honoria is my
sister now, as well as my friend. I want only her happiness."
"If you want her to be happy, then make sure
she doesn't marry Templeton."
They both turned to study Mr. Templeton, who
was chatting animatedly with his mother on the other side of the
room and flourishing his false sword.
After a moment of watching, Diana said. "I
believe you are right. Though I wish I knew more about you."
"Ask your husband. But wait until Honoria and
I are far away before you do."
Diana studied him a long time, then she gave
him a nod. Christopher felt a small taste of triumph. An ally was a
useful thing to have.
Templeton approached them then and asked
Christopher if he'd show him the proper way to use a pirate sword.
Christopher's mood had lightened enough that he led the man out of
the ballroom, fetched a real sword from Finley, and took Templeton
down to the garden.
*** *** ***
Honoria watched with direst forebodings as
Mr. Templeton departed the ballroom with Christopher. She turned
her head to try to keep them in view, not easy with the complicated
patterns of the cotillion. She craned her head this way and that
and missed several steps, earning a puzzled frown from Mr.
Henderson.
When the dance ended, Mr. Henderson led
Honoria back to her chair and fetched her an ice, which she did not
want. She was about to push the ice on Mrs. Templeton and rush
after Christopher, but Grayson turned up to claim his country
dance.
When Honoria tried to beg off, he said, "Oh
no you don't," and towed her without mercy to the middle of the
floor.
The former pirate danced with enthusiasm and
exuberance. He whirled Honoria with such force she feared she'd fly
across the room if he let her go. But Grayson also moved with feral
grace, and other ladies cast her looks of envy.
When the dance finished, Honoria, breathless,
sought the balcony, needing air and solitude. Grayson cheerfully
let her go and went in search of his wife.
The balcony was dark and relatively empty.
Honoria rested her hands on the balustrade, happy for the silence
and the coolness on her aching brow.
She would stand here a moment, then scour the
house for Christopher and Mr. Templeton. If Christopher had
revealed the secret of their marriage, she would . . . well, she
would speak to him quite sharply.
Mr. Templeton deserved to be told, but in a
gentle way. Christopher might spring it upon him, as blunt as ever,
and Mr. Templeton would be upset. And Honoria wouldn't blame Mr.
Templeton one bit.
She leaned on the stone balustrade, drawing
in air scented with roses, coal smoke, and whatever happened to be
in the River Thames tonight. The other ladies' reactions to
Christopher in the ballroom had not escaped Honoria's notice.
They'd watched him either openly or coyly from behind fans, as
though they'd like to lap him up, suit and all.
They made her quite irritated, really.
Christopher was hers to lap, if anyone would do any lapping.
Honoria suddenly wished Christopher would
enter the terrace behind her, come to her, slide his broad hands
around her waist. She'd lean back against his warmth, feel his
breath on her skin, hear his strong voice whisper her name. She
drew her hand across her abdomen as heat coiled there.
A noise below startled her out of her
fantasy, and she looked down into the garden.
What she saw froze her blood. A cluster of
gentlemen stood on the grass, their attention riveted on two
swordsmen near the fountain. One was Mr. Templeton. The other was
Christopher.
Mr. Templeton held his makeshift sword
clumsily, fearfully eying the steel sword in Christopher's hand. As
Honoria watched in horror, Christopher came at Mr. Templeton,
driving him backward, the point of his sword aimed straight
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