The Trouble with Honour. Julia London
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been involved in an accident when a curricle had overturned, tossing her onto the road. Physically, the countess had recovered, but since then, Honor and Grace had noticed her mind was slipping. Mostly, it was unusual memory lapses. But there were other, less subtle signs. Once, she had blithely talked of seeing her sister at Vauxhall, as if her sister were still alive. Another time, she hadn’t been able to recall the earl’s title.
Recently, however, it seemed as if their mother was getting worse. Most days, she was clearheaded and a constant presence at her husband’s side. Other days, she might ask the same question more than once or remark on the weather three or four times in the space of a few minutes. Once, when Honor had tried to speak to her mother about her increasing forgetfulness, her mother had been surprised by the suggestion and seemingly irked by it. She’d even suggested to Honor that perhaps she was the forgetful one.
“And I don’t think I need to tell you that the earl has not been out of his bed in two days,” Grace added.
“I know, I know,” Honor said sadly. She curled her feet under her on the chair. “Grace...I’ve been thinking,” she said carefully. “What if Monica did not marry Augustine—”
“Of course she will,” Grace said, cutting Honor off. “Augustine is completely besotted with her. He runs after her like a puppy.”
“But what if...what if Monica was lured away by a bigger fortune?”
“What?” Grace eyed Honor warily. “How? Why?”
“Just suppose she was lured away. It would give us a bit of time to settle things. Look here, Grace, if the earl dies, Augustine will take her to the altar as soon as he is able, and then what? But if they don’t marry as soon—”
“Are you forgetting that Augustine loves her?” Grace asked, clearly struggling to remain calm.
“I’ve not forgotten. But he is a man, isn’t he? He will soon forget her and find another.”
“Our Augustine!” Grace cried with disbelief. “Monica Hargrove is the first woman he’s ever so much as looked at, and even so, it took him several years to do it!”
“I know,” Honor said, wincing a little. “I’m only trying to think of a way to put off their marriage for a time.”
“Until what?”
“I haven’t worked that out completely,” Honor admitted.
Grace studied her sister for a moment, then shook her head. “It’s ridiculous. Folly! Monica won’t turn loose a bird in the hand—Augustine could turn mute and blind and she’d not care. And besides, I have a better plan.”
“What?” Honor asked skeptically.
Grace sat up now. “We marry first. Quickly. If we marry, our husbands will have no choice but to take in our sisters and our mother when the earl dies.”
“Now who is being ridiculous?” Honor said. “What do you think, that we may summon up a husband with the snap of our fingers? Who would we marry?”
“Mr. Jett—”
“No!” Honor all but shouted. “That’s a wretched plan, Grace. First, neither of us has an offer. Second, I don’t want to marry now. I don’t want to tend to a man and do his bidding, and be shunted off to the country where there is no society, all because he desires it.”
“What are you talking about? Who do you know that has been shunted to the country?” Grace asked with some surprise. “Really, Honor, don’t you want to marry? To have love and companionship and children?”
“Of course,” Honor said uncertainly. She rather enjoyed her freedom. She didn’t pine for marriage and children the way other women her age seemed to do. “But at present, I don’t love anyone and I don’t want to marry merely because it is expected. It vexes me terribly that we are expected to do as we are told and marry this man, or seek that offer,” she said, gesturing irritably. “Why? We’re free women. We ought to choose and do as we please, just like every man is allowed.”
“But we have others who must rely on us,” Grace said, referring to Prudence and Mercy.
The reminder put a temporary damper on Honor’s enthusiasm for women’s equality.
“And besides, your perception is clouded by Rowley’s rejection—”
“It was not precisely a rejection,” Honor began to argue, but Grace threw up a hand to stop her.
“I didn’t say it to be unkind. But your judgment has been impaired, Honor. You won’t allow anyone to come close.”
Before Honor could argue against such a ridiculous notion, Grace said, “So we are agreed, we must do something.”
“Yes, of course, we are agreed. Which is why I want to seduce Monica away from Augustine. And I know just the man to do it.”
“Who?” Grace asked skeptically.
Honor smiled at her own brilliance. “George Easton!”
Grace’s eyes widened. Her mouth gaped. It took her a few swift moments to find her tongue. “Have you gone completely round the bend?”
“I have not,” Honor said firmly. “He is the perfect man for it.”
“Are we speaking of the same George Easton from whom you managed to divest one hundred pounds in that scandalous little game in Southwark?”
“Yes,” Honor said, shifting a little self-consciously in her seat.
Grace made a sound of despair or shock, Honor wasn’t certain, but her sister suddenly stood and walked in a complete circle behind her chair, one hand on her back, the train of her muslin gown trailing behind her. When she faced Honor again, she folded her arms across her chest and stared down at her. “To be perfectly clear, are you speaking of the self-proclaimed by-blow of the late Duke of Gloucester? The man who loses a fortune as easily as he makes one?”
“Yes,” Honor said, confident in her idea. “He is handsome, he is the nephew of the king and currently, he is quite flush in the pockets, as we know.”
“But he is a man with no real name. Or connections! We may all very well believe he is the true son of the late duke, but the duke never acknowledged it. And I’ve not even mentioned that the current duke—Easton’s half brother, if he is to be believed—utterly detests him and forbids anyone from even mentioning his name! For heaven’s sake, Honor, he does not enjoy the privileges of his supposed paternity! Monica Hargrove will not give up the Beckington title for him, not if all of Hades freezes over.”
“She might,” Honor stubbornly insisted. “If she were properly seduced.”
Grace blinked. She sank down onto her chair, her hands on her knees, gaping at her sister. “What a dangerous, ridiculous idea. You must promise me you won’t do anything so entirely wretched.”
“Wretched!” Honor was miffed that Grace didn’t see the brilliance in her plan. “I mean him only to lure her, not compromise her! He need only make her believe there are other interests in her, and then perhaps she will want to explore an option or two before marrying Augustine. It seems quite simple and brilliant to me. Your idea is superior to that?”
“Much,” Grace said emphatically. “If you won’t marry, then I will.”
“Oh, and have you any offers you’ve not told me about?”
“No,” Grace said with a sniff. “But I have some thoughts on how I might gain one.”
“Such as?”
“Never you mind,” Grace said. “Just promise me you won’t do anything so foolish.”
“Very well, very well,” Honor said with an impatient flick of her hand. “I promise,” she said dramatically, and picked up her plate again. “I’m famished.”
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