Page 25 of Pride of Lyons

Honoria shrank back at the look of pure, black hatred Thomas shot at Danford. “She is my wife, Danford. How could you imagine for one single moment I would not avenge the insult you perpetrated upon myself and the lady I have the utmost privilege to call my wife? Your scurrilous question merely illustrates your utter lack of honor or human decency.” Thomas took a menacing step toward the baffled Danford. “I suggest you find your way out of my garden and off my property, post haste, unless you wish for me to have you bodily removed by my largest footmen.”

As if coming to his senses, Lord Danford drew himself up to his full height, turned, and shuffled down the pathway as quickly as he could. Still, it took several minutes for him to reach the far entrance and disappear from sight.

When he did so, Honoria exhaled the breath she’d been holding and looked toward Thomas. Her heart held so much love for this man, she could scarcely take it in. All she wanted was to make him truly proud that she was his wife. Like he’d just said to Danford. And pray God, once this wretched duel was over with, they would have all the rest of their years together to prove that love to the whole wide world.

Chapter Twelve

As soon as the blackguard disappeared through the garden entrance, Thomas sagged with relief. His emotions were still running high, and if Danford had lingered at all, Thomas would have been hard-pressed to let him live long enough to duel with him. The shock of entering his beautiful garden, intending to continue his tryst with his wife, and instead, finding Danford in the process of debauching her had almost made his heart stop. Thank God, he’d reached her in time. He stepped back to Honoria, who still looked dazed. “Are you sure you’re all right, my dear?”

Her breathing was quicker, her cheeks hectic with streaks of red, but she smiled up at him, a sight that sent balm to his troubled heart. “I promise you, I am. He pawed at me and gave me disgusting kisses, but I managed to put him off long enough for you to arrive.” She cocked her head, looking charmingly like a curious bird. “Why are you back so soon? You didn’t expect to return until after dinner.”

Thomas smiled and put an arm around her shoulders. “Truly it is by the grace of God and my selfish wish to continue our little interlude here in the garden. Here, let us sit a moment. I don’t want you to swoon.” He himself was so keyed up, he could go five rounds with someone at Jackson’s and not blink an eye.

Leading her to the bench underneath the griffin statue, Thomas peered closely at his wife. Would she fear this place in the garden from now on? Or even the garden itself? That would be a shame, for they had had several very pleasant encounters here in the past week. If she now abhorred it, that would be another sin he’d lay at Danford’s door. But Honoria sat easily on the seat where she’d been attacked such a short time ago. A woman of fortitude if ever there was one.

“So, you had no idea that Lord Danford had schemed to get me alone here?”

“What?” Honoria’s words landed like a cannonball among ninepins, scattering his thoughts to the wind. “What do you mean?”

“He seemed to know that you had gone to visit our neighbor and would not be back for some hours. When I questioned that, he confessed to have written the letter to draw you away from the house.” That she could speak so calmly about the dastardly scheme gave even more credence to her strength.

“I had no idea.” Stunned, Thomas inwardly cursed Danford, and himself, for being so gullible. “Although as I rode down the lane toward Sanderling’s something in the back of my mind kept telling me I should return to the garden.” Whenever that nagging little voice had whispered to him, Thomas had taken heed. Today it had saved his wife from a horrifying ordeal. “I thought it was my baser self still enamored of our kiss. Now I see it was something more.”

“Whatever it was, I am grateful for it. I don’t quite know what I would have done next to dislodge Lord Danford.” She grinned up at him. “Possibly tried to get a knee in the proper place. That might have afforded me enough time to escape him.”

Laughing, Thomas pressed her to him. What a wonderful wife he’d married. “Remind me never to get on your wrong side, my dear.” Then he sobered. “Here, let me take you inside. You have had a shock and should rest. I think I shall send for Mr. Cawthorne, the apothecary in Cocking. He will have a potion to soothe you after your fright.”

“Thomas, I am perfectly well.” The little pout on her lips was enchanting but would make no difference to him.

“I will be the judge of that, madam.” He stood and scooped her into his arms.

“Thomas!” She shrieked, then laughed. “Put me down, sir. I am perfectly capable of walking.”

“I think not.” He swung around and headed for the garden gate. “I will have you seen to and fussed over until I am satisfied you are well.”

“Truly, Thomas, I—”

“Indulge me, please, my dear. You are not the only one who received a shock today.”

At that, she nodded and nestled her head against his chest. A better feeling he could not have wished for as he carried her into the Keep and up to the solar. He pushed open the door and Paxton jumped up from the chair where she sat mending a garment.

“What has happened, my lord?” The lady’s maid took in the sight of her lady in his arms and laid her work down. “Is my lady injured?”

“No, Paxton, not injured, but she’s had a shock.” Thomas strode to the bed and laid Honoria down on it. “Will you warm her nightgown and get her into it?” He turned to his wife, who was looking perturbed. Before she could speak, he lifted a finger in warning. “When I return, you will be in your night rail and under the covers, madam. Do I make myself clear?”

After a heavy sigh, she replied, “Yes, my lord.” The twinkle in her eyes, however, took the chill out of her voice.

“Very well. Tend to her Paxton. I will return shortly.” Thomas left as Paxton had hurried toward Honoria. Too bad Joanna would insist on taking the lady’s maid back. She was a true gem, and his sister knew it.

Running swiftly down the stairs, Thomas began to make a mental list of things that needed to be done. He must send word immediately to London, to Geoffrey and Rochdale, to attend him as his seconds. Geoffrey wouldn’t hesitate, and if Rochdale did, he’d remind him it had been his initial idiocy that had started this series of events. Almost as urgently, he must write to his attorney in Cocking about changing his will. Should the unthinkable happen, he’d not leave Honoria destitute when a stranger inherited the Keep and his other properties. He must also prepare the set of dueling pistols that had been his father’s. Other than some practice shooting, they’d never been fired. Then he would set the gardener and a couple of footmen to readying the dueling ground. The site he had in mind was about half a mile from the house, removed enough that Honoria could neither see nor hear the proceedings.

He entered the kitchen and called for the cook. “Mrs. Fitzhugh.”

The older woman came out from the storeroom, her eyes wide. “Yes, my lord? Is something amiss?”

“No, Mrs. Fitzhugh, but will you please fix a hot toddy and have it sent up to Lady Braeton’s chamber? She had a bit of a shock out in the garden, and I remember my mother set great store by a hot toddy for such things.”

“That she did, my lord.” The woman’s features relaxed. “I’ll fix it straight away and have one of the maids take it up directly.”