“Mr. Bridgerton was just saying—” Honoria began, at the precise time that Marcus said, “If you will excuse us. I require a private word with Lady Honoria.” But Marcus was louder, and more to the point, he actually finished his sentence. Honoria clamped her mouth shut and retreated into stony silence.
Mr. Bridgerton gave him an assessing stare, holding his ground for just long enough to make Marcus’s jaw clench, and then, as if the moment had never occurred, he turned charming in the space of a second, executed a jaunty bow, and said, “But of course. I was just thinking that I should like a glass of lemonade above all things.” He bowed, he smiled, and he was gone.
Honoria waited until he was out of earshot, then she turned to Marcus with an angry scowl. “That was incredibly rude of you."
He gave her a stern look. “Unlike the younger Mr. Bridgerton, this one is not wet behind the ears."
“What are you talking about?"
“You should not be flirting with him."
Honoria’s mouth fell open. “I wasn’t!"
“Of course you were,” he retorted. “I was watching you.” “No, you weren’t,” she shot back. “You were talking with Felicity Featherington!"
“Who stands a full head shorter than I am. I could see right over her."
“If you must know,” Honoria ground out, quite unable to believe that he was acting like the aggrieved party, “your aunt called him over. Do you expect me to be rude and cut him here in my own home? At an event to which, I might add, he possesses an invitation?"
The last she was not strictly positive about, but she couldn’t imagine that her mother wouldn’t have invited one of the Bridgertons.
“My aunt?” he asked.
“Lady Danbury. Your great-great-great-great . . ."
He glared at her.
“Great-great-great-great . . .” she continued, just to be annoying.
Marcus said something under his breath, then said, in only a slightly more appropriate tone, “She is a menace."
“I like her,” Honoria said defiantly.
He didn’t say anything, but he looked furious. And all Honoria could think was, Why? What on earth did he have to be so angry about? She was the one who was in love with a man who clearly thought of her as a burden. A burden with whom he had a pleasant friendship, but still, a burden. Even now he was still guided by his stupid promise to Daniel, scaring away gentlemen whom he deemed inappropriate.
If he wasn’t going to love her, then at least he could stop ruining her chances with everyone else.
“I’m leaving,” she declared, because she simply could not take it any longer. She didn’t want to see him, and she didn’t want to see Daisy, or Iris, or her mother, or even Mr. Bridgerton, who was off in the corner with his lemonade, being charming to Felicity Featherington’s older sister.
“Where are you going?” he demanded.
She didn’t answer. She didn’t see that it was any of his business.
She left the room without a backward glance.
Bloody hell.
Marcus would have liked to have chased Honoria right out of the room, but nothing would have caused a bigger scene. He would also like to have thought that no one had noticed their argument, but Colin Bridgerton was smirking in the corner over his glass of lemonade, and Lady Danbury had that I-am-all-knowing-and-all- powerful look on her face that Marcus normally disregarded.
This time, however, he had a sinking suspicion that she had somehow orchestrated his downfall.
Finally, when the annoying Mr. Bridgerton raised his bandaged paw in mock salute, Marcus decided he had had enough, and he strode out the same door through which Honoria had exited. To hell with the gossips. If anyone noticed that they had both left and wanted to make a fuss over it, they could bloody well demand that Marcus propose marriage.
He had no problem with that.
After searching the garden, the drawing room, the music room, the library, and even the kitchens, he finally found Honoria in her bedroom, a location he forced his mind to disregard. But he’d spent enough time at Winstead House to know where the private apartments were, and after he’d gone through every other bloody room in the house, well, did she really expect that he wouldn’t find her there?
“Marcus!” she nearly shrieked. “What are you doing here?"
Apparently, she had expected that he wouldn’t find her here.
The first words out of his mouth were the absolutely ill-advised “What is wrong with you?"
“What is wrong with me?” She sat up quickly on her bed, scooching her body toward the headboard rather like a crab.
“What is wrong with you?"
“I’m not the one who stormed out of the party to go sulk in a corner."
“It’s not a party. It’s a musicale.” “It’s your musicale."
“And I’ll sulk if I want to,” she muttered.
“What?"
“Nothing.” She glared at him, crossing her arms tightly across her chest. “You shouldn’t be here."
He flicked his hand palm up through the air as if to say (with great sarcasm), Oh, really? She looked at his hand, and then at his face. “What is that supposed to mean?"
“You just spent the better part of a week in my bedroom."
“You were almost dead!"
She had a rather good point, but he was not prepared to admit it. “Now see here,” he said, getting back to the point that actually mattered, “I was doing you a favor when I asked Bridgerton to leave."
Her mouth fell open in outrage. “You—"
“He is not the sort of person with whom you should be associating,” he said, cutting her off. “What?” “Will you keep your voice down?” he hissed.
“I wasn’t making noise until you came in,” she hissed right back.
He took a step forward, unable to keep his body entirely in check. “He is not the right man for you.” “I never said he was! Lady Danbury brought him over."
“She is a menace."
“You said that already."
“It bears repeating.” She scrambled—finally!—off the bed. “What on earth is so ‘menacing’ about introducing me to Colin Bridgerton?"
“Because she was trying to make me jealous!” he fairly yelled.
They both went absolutely silent, and then, after a quick look toward the open door, he hastily went over and shut it.
When he turned back to Honoria, she was standing so still he could see her swallow. Her eyes were huge in her face—that owlish stare of hers that had always unnerved him. In the flickering candlelight, they glowed nearly silver, and he felt himself almost mesmerized.
She was beautiful. He knew that already, but it hit him again, with a force that nearly knocked him to his knees.
“Why would she want to do that?” she asked softly.
He clamped his teeth together in an attempt not to answer, but finally he said, “I don’t know."
“Why would she think she could do it?” Honoria pressed.
“Because she thinks she can do anything,” Marcus said desperately. Anything to avoid telling the truth. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to tell her he loved her, but this wasn’t the time. This wasn’t the way he wanted to do it.
She swallowed again, the movement painfully exaggerated by the stillness of the rest of her. “And why do you think it’s your job to select which men I do and do not associate with?"
He didn’t say anything. “Why, Marcus?"
“Daniel asked me to,” he said in a tight, even voice. He wasn’t ashamed of it. He wasn’t even ashamed of not having told her. But he did not appreciate being backed into a corner.