Page 7 of Pride of Lyons

She cringed at the urgency of Lord Danford’s voice as he spoke her name.

“Honoria, you must believe me, I meant you no harm. If you had heard me out in the carriage, heard my plan for us to be together, we would not be here.”

If she could have sunk through the floor, Honoria would have gladly done so. All the way to Timbuktu. The glass of brandy trembled in her hand.

“Danford, my God, man. Have you no shame?” This new voice, sharp with censure and clearly outraged, brought Honoria’s head up. The blonde gentleman’s face was twisted with disgust as he glared at Lord Danford.

The earl looked astounded at the man. “I would not play her false, Braeton. As I told you, I meant to set her up with a house, carriage, jewels.” He turned eager eyes on Honoria. “Anything you wish, my dear, I will give you and gladly. All you need do is agree to be mine.”

Without another thought, Honoria tossed the brandy down her throat, then choked as the sharp spirits hit their mark. She coughed and coughed until Mrs. Dove-Lyon pounded her on the back, bringing tears to her eyes. Might as well cry. Her life hung around her in ruins.

“Well, Miss Quinn?” Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s tone was soft, cajoling. “It’s not a bad offer, all things considered.”

Honoria turned to the woman, gazing at her astounded. Had she indeed lost her mind? Both Lord Longford and the one called Braeton had monstrous frowns on their faces, so maybe she wasn’t the only one outraged by Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s words. “It’s a scandalous offer, ma’am.” The brandy had somehow given her more backbone. “And not one I’m inclined to take.”

“You don’t have much of a choice, my dear.” Danford shrugged out of Braeton’s grip and straightened his shoulders. “Lady Danford won’t have you back once word of this reaches her ears. And I’ll make certain it reaches them post-haste. You’ll be dismissed before the sun sets today. Then what will you do?”

Well, Honoria had already worked that out. “I’ve already considered myself no longer part of your household, my lord. I will make arrangements to travel to my parents’ home. No one will take notice of me there.”

“Except I’ll make certain they do, my dear.” Lord Danford had come to stand in front of her, and she cringed, trying to make herself smaller. “Unless you accept my protection, I’ll make certain everyone knows why you left my household.” He smiled, almost kindly. “No decent person of the ton will ever speak to you or your family again.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” Honoria peered into his face, trying to fathom why he seemed hell-bent on ruining her.

“Because I want you, my dear, and I will have you,” he said simply and grasped her hand. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you. And I almost always get what I want. No matter what I have to do to get it.”

She snatched her hand from his grip and turned beseechingly to Mrs. Dove-Lyon. “Can you not do something, ma’am?”

From the corner of her eye, Mr. Braeton made as if to go to her, but Lord Longford restrained him. Pity.

She returned her attention to Mrs. Dove-Lyon. “Can we not call the authorities? This is wrong, wicked what he’s trying to do to me.”

Danford laughed. “What on earth would the authorities do? This is a mere business deal, my dear. Come,” he grabbed her hand again, “let us take the carriage, and I will show you the house I have rented for you.” His voice softened. “There will be servants, clothes, jewels. Anything your heart desires.” Eyes blazing with a strange light, he kissed her hand. “I assure you, I plan to be very generous with you if you are generous with me.”

The touch of his lips made the skin want to crawl off her bones. She bounded up, drew her hand back, and slapped him across the cheek. Whirling around, to put the chaise between them, she glanced toward the door, but Mrs. Dove-Lyon stood between her and it. And Honoria wasn’t completely certain the woman would let her leave. She turned to face Danford, careful to remain out of his reach. “I don’t care what you say in London. Shout it from the rafters for all I care. I will go home and remain there, where no one will know or care what lies you have spread.”

“Oh, but they will know, Honoria.” Lord Danford stalked around the chaise, and she scooted back until she bumped into Mrs. Dove-Lyon. “I know where your father’s parish is. And I will make certain everyone in the village knows that I have asked you to be my mistress. Knowing the village mindset, they will believe it has already happened.” He shook his head, his lips set in a rueful smile. “I somehow think neither your parents nor your neighbors will welcome such a notorious figure with open arms. In fact, the bishop might even revoke your father’s living for having raised such a depraved daughter.”

He couldn’t do this. How could he boast of ruining her and her family so thoroughly and no one come to their aid? “You are a wicked, wicked man.” She burst into tears. “You cannot do this to me.”

“I can, and I will, Honoria.” He cupped her chin and drew her face up to his. “If you wish to save your family, you have no choice, my dear.”

A sudden commotion in the corner of the room where Lord Longford and Mr. Braeton had retired drew all their attention to the two other gentlemen. Mr. Braeton had pulled away from Lord Longford and now stalked toward them, his frown darkening his otherwise handsome face. “You do have a choice, Miss Quinn.”

Honoria jerked away from Lord Danford, clutching the sole offer of hope. “What do you mean, sir?”

“What the devil, Braeton?” The earl had turned toward the other man, murder simmering in his eyes. “What are you playing at?”

“I beg your pardon, Miss Quinn, but I’m afraid we haven’t been introduced.” Mr. Braeton continued as though Lord Danford had not spoken. “I am Lord Braeton, whom Mrs. Dove-Lyon asked to be present to act on your behalf and for your benefit if such an occasion arose.” He glared at Lord Danford. “And I believe it has.”

“Keep out of this, Braeton.” The growl was menacing, but Lord Braeton continued to simply ignore the earl.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand, my lord.” Honoria’s courage seemed to be waning, as were her wits. This Lord Braeton was to act on her behalf? But how? And who was he, that he should have an interest in her plight?

“It must be confusing, I’m sure.” His tone was soothing, comforting even. “But the upshot of the situation, as I understand it, is that you wish to refuse Lord Danford’s offer if some other opportunity would present itself, is that correct?”

“Well, yes.” Of course, she’d wish for some other choice than to become Lord Danford’s mistress. His use of the word “opportunity” reminded her of Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s words when they left the parlor. Was this what she’d been talking about? “Do you know of some other course, my lord?” For a moment she allowed herself to hope. “Another, more honorable choice?”

“I do, Miss Quinn.” Lord Braeton shot a frightening look at Mrs. Dove-Lyon, then relaxed his features and turned a more pleasant gaze on her. “You can choose, instead, to marry me.”