Incomparable Lord Meath: A Rebellious Sons NOVELLA Page 7
The Irish Sea was rough, as always, making walking difficult. Apparently, it also kept the ladies in their cabins. From the sounds of it, Bell wasn’t much of a seafarer. So Evan spent the voyage playing cards and dice and gambling for whiskey with the sailors. He’d wanted to surprise Miss Hoyt. Perhaps it was better this way. If she didn’t see him until they were on land, she couldn’t heave him overboard for his presumption.
Although the sea churned, the winds prevailed, and the yacht reached London before Evan could win the cook’s entire barrel of brandy. He’d caught glimpses of Miss Hoyt and was cheered to know she didn’t suffer from mal de mer as Bell did. He had, however, lost the element of surprise. She’d raised her eyebrows and spent the rest of the voyage avoiding him. Well, by that time, he had looked rather disreputable. Without a cabin, even his valet couldn’t keep up with the laundry and bathing.
When the yacht reached London at dark, Evan bribed the captain into having someone row him in while everyone else slept. He was still a bit sensitive about his awkwardness, and if he was to miss his grip on a rung, he didn’t want Miss Hoyt to see him dropping into the drink.
He took a room at a tavern and was waiting on the dock the next day when Belden’s servants were sent to fetch carriages, and the party was let ashore. He’d had time to bathe, shave, have his hair trimmed, and don clean clothes. The marquess’s party was at a distinct disadvantage and came off the yacht looking weary and untidy. Bell looked shockingly pale, but then, she’d never had much color. Evan was pleased to see the marquess treating her solicitously as he led her to the waiting carriage.
He was not as pleased to see Miss Hoyt abandoned with the luggage and servants. He was already in a fine rage as he stalked down the street, cursing Belden’s obliviousness in leaving her unprotected.
Evan’s anger escalated to murderous at sight of a drunken sailor staggering from a tavern and straight toward the lady, who stood to one side, waiting for her bags to be loaded in a wagon. Evan shouted a warning while cursing his inability to run and prevent the collision.
To her credit, Miss Hoyt didn’t scream when the filthy, stinking lout practically fell on top of her. She did, however, emit a note of shock when Evan finally caught the culprit by his dirty neckcloth. He hauled the sot off, handed her his walking stick, pulled back his gloved fist, and plowed it into the protesting drunk’s jaw. Releasing the man’s collar, he drove a blow into his inflated belly.
* * *
Honora stared blankly at the gold-knobbed, ebony walking stick in her hand, then back to the elegantly garbed Lord Meath fisting his gloved fingers and knocking back a man twice his size. If she did not mistake, he was actually enjoying himself. His chiseled lips were pressed taut in determination, but they turned up at the corners, and his eyes all but danced as his opponent staggered backward into the gathering crowd.
Every man in the kingdom loved a good brawl. She ought to climb into the wagon and leave him to it. The proper lady she’d always been would have been horrified enough to flee. But no longer needing to please her uncle, the lady she wanted to become thrilled at a man fighting over her. It was a foolishly female, romantic idiocy, and still, she couldn’t help cheering the madman on.
When two more men joined their drunken companion, Honora jabbed one of the louts in the groin with the pretty walking stick. He bent over with a groan, and Meath threw her a grin, before kicking the other in the shin. He staggered in the process, and she lent him her shoulder.
“You are incorrigible,” she murmured.
“Aye, and I know it.” He kissed her cheek, released her, and put his fists up again. This time, no one took him on.
Honora glanced over her shoulder to see a valet, two burly footmen, and the wagon driver circled behind them, fists and whips raised.
The crowd surged around them, cheering and exchanging coins over wagers, letting the losers stagger off to look for another brawl.
“Aye, Nora, me lass, you are a sight for sore eyes after days of stinking louts smelling of whiskey. Sorry I am that I was not closer so you needn’t suffer the likes of that thatch-gallow.” Meath flung his arm over her shoulder and tipped his hat to Belden’s servants. “A coin to all of you for guarding the lady, as soon as we have her home and safe.”
Honora would have objected to every single word and ducked away from his grip, except she could tell by the weight he placed on her that his leg was about to give out. “You are such a nodcock,” she scolded, handing him back his stick. “But I thank you for the rescue. What on earth are you doing here?” She’d seen him once on the yacht but had been afraid to ask then.
“Well, if I’d known how well you aim, I’d have just given you the cane in the first place,” he said cheerfully, not explaining himself. “Where did you learn that little trick?”
“From the maids.” She smiled despite her annoyance with his lunacy. “Don’t tell my uncle. What are you doing here?” she asked again. “Did Belden invite you?”
Cane back in hand, he lifted some of his weight from her but didn’t remove his arm from her shoulders. “I asked if he minded an extra hand on board, and he didn’t object. I promised Bell I’d look after her, as a good brother should. But mostly, I wanted to court you.”
He said it with such satisfaction, that she could not protest when he handed her into a hired carriage and climbed in after her. Her maid had already gone on with Bell. Casting only a worried glance to the servants climbing into the baggage wagon, she asked, “ It is only a few weeks from Christmas, where will you stay?”
He grinned in that way that spun her senses and pulsed her blood.
“A hotel for now. My townhouse is leased out until January. In the meanwhile, I’ll send word to my father’s estate that I’ve come to make them toe the line, and I’ll probably spend the next weeks there. Would you care to join my house party when I open it up again after lo, these many years?”
Devilment danced in his eyes now. Honora swallowed and forced herself to study his broad, honest face as she had never dared in the past. “Your father’s estate?”
“As I mentioned, the Irish lands were my mother’s. My father was already an English baron when the powers that be granted him an Irish viscountcy so he could pretend to represent Irish interests with his English vote.”
Enlightenment dawned. “You have an English estate? And you have come to sit in the Lords? And speak for Ireland in doing so?”
He beamed. “I knew you to be a brilliant lady. The old lard-bottoms didn’t think ahead to men like me, the sons of all those worthless titles.”
“You weren’t part of the rebellion, were you?” she asked in alarm, thinking of his propensity for fighting.
“There wasn’t a need for me to rebel, lass,” he said, patting her hand. “I already have land and a vote, and never believed separating our countries was a wise idea. We are stronger when we work together. I’ve been busy rebuilding, but the time has come to stand up and be counted.”
The way he held her hand, the way he looked at her, and confided in her. . . Honora thought she might be having heart palpitations. “You mean to stay in England?” she whispered, clenching her fingers in hope.
“Depends on whether it’s worth my time,” he said cheerfully. “You tell me there is opera to be appreciated, and books to be shared here. I am hoping you will enjoy running a less regulated household, among other things.” He kissed her cheek to remind her of what he had in mind.
She tore her hand away and folded it in her lap. “You should not tease. I am too old to play courtship games.”
“You most certainly are not,” he said in indignation. “I shall send you posies every day and take you riding every afternoon, after I buy a carriage,” he amended. “And when you have decided that I am a solid enough fellow, I will do all that is proper—but not now, in a hired hack. You might, however, have to pry me from the floor once I go down on bended knee.”
She squeezed her fingers together, gathered her courage, and eye
d him sideways. “I don’t suppose I ever told you that after you returned to Ireland, and I was relegated to my uncle’s household, that I joined a few ladies’ societies.”
“You mentioned something of the sort,” he said amiably. “Book clubs and teaching servants and that sort of thing?”
“Yes, well. . .” She took a deep breath and faced him fully. “There might happen to be one or two political ones, of the sort that demand Catholic and slave emancipation and the like. I am, well, after ten years—”
“Leader of the dissident societies!” he crowed, hugging her and covering her face with kisses. “I knew there was a reason I love you so madly! You are a subversive, just like me!”
She wrapped her arms around his broad chest and let him crush her ribbons as she met his lips with hers. Every part of her tingled, not just with desire, but with an excitement she had not known since retiring from ballrooms.
“I do not know how to be a subversive,” she protested as the carriage slowed for the crowded streets of Mayfair. “I will admit I love to be needed. You cannot know more of me than that.”
“So very proper, Miss Hoyt,” he teased, pushing back her bonnet until it fell to her shoulders. “My heart has not been whole until you walked back into my life. When I was digging ditches and pounding roofs, I knew you were better off without me. But once I had blunt in my pockets again, I could not bear returning to London for fear of finding you with some totally unsuitable husband. You are a Christmas gift beyond my fondest dreams.”
“You say all the right things to heal my battered heart,” she admitted. “I cannot bear it if you do not mean what you say. Please do not toy with me. I know I am no prize.”
“I will punch the nose of any lack-wit who dares say such a thing,” he said indignantly.
“You would punch the nose of anyone who said anything you did not like,” she suggested with a smile.
He shrugged. “Well, there is that. I enjoy punching noses. Will you find that hard to bear? I can try to be more respectable.”
That he even suggested he might change a little if she asked warmed her heart to the brim. She tilted her head and studied him with a smile. “Punching noses is safer than dueling, I suppose. Respectability may be a little more difficult.”
“I shall give you respectability for Christmas, my dear one,” he murmured, kissing her gloved hand.
* * *
A light snow fell on the carriages arriving at Belden House. Honora checked the candles Bell had insisted on setting in the windows. They flickered brightly against the cold gloom outside. The foyer smelled of fresh evergreen, and everywhere she looked, bright red bows cheered the dull interior of the marquess’s staid mansion. Belden had allowed his new bride free rein for her first holiday in London.
Honora waited with Lady Bell beside the roaring fire in the salon. Outside, a beautiful baritone raised in a spirited rendition of “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen.” To her shock, a familiar trio of sopranos joined in. “Mama?” she whispered in disbelief.
As the guests entered, laden with packages, Lady Bell practiced the curtsies she’d been taught. The baritone continued to boom cheerfully, but the sopranos died off with squeals as Honora’s mother and two aunts repeated their curtsies, then rushed across the room with arms outspread. Engulfed in her family’s hugs, Honora could only watch as Lord Meath entered and swung the young marchioness around in accompaniment to the final chorus.
Honora was jealous of his attentions, but for the first time since she’d arrived, Lady Bell laughed, so she didn’t regret Meath’s exuberance. His limp didn’t detract from the strength of his swing as he set Bell down again. Once Honora extracted herself from the hugs of her excited family, Lord Meath grabbed her and sang “Deck the Halls,” while almost jigging her across the carpet with vigor.
“Have you swallowed a barrel of ale, sir?” she asked, trying not to laugh as they stumbled about.
“I am happy, and I wish you to be happy too,” he declared, once they reached the far end of the chamber from the others. “I am happy to see that you are taking good care of my little sister. She looks almost regal in her new fashion, although after boots and breeches, she’d look regal in almost anything.” He bent down and placed a kiss in her forehead. “Thank you.”
“How did you find my family?” she asked in wonder, shivering in pleasure at his very masculine proximity. “Belden has never agreed to have them here for the holiday, and I didn’t wish to abandon Bell to go visit this year.”
“I know. The lass told me so, and told me where to find them. She conspires well. She’ll make a brilliant marchioness one of these days.”
Meath smelled of cold and her mother’s strong perfume, and her heart expanded knowing how far he’d gone to fetch them here. “She seems to be happy,” Honora whispered, casting a glance to where Lady Bell and a footman were helping the ladies with their wraps.
“She’ll be missing the little ones, I wager. But we’ve brought Christmas puddings and trinkets and our own lovely selves. Do you play the harpsichord?” He nodded at the instrument hidden in the gloom of one corner.
“I do, but Belden doesn’t like it. It’s old and I don’t know if it’s in tune.” She tugged his hand to lead him back to the fire and her family.
“We’ll make it do. Call for your mulled wine, and let’s open our gifts,” Meath commanded, indicating the pile gathering on the table.
“Do you not want your dinner first?” Honora asked, grateful she’d not had time to send off the gifts she’d purchased for her family. “You must be hungry from traveling.”
“We’ll eat our figgy pudding first and warm ourselves by the fire,” he declared. “Belden has promised to come down to help us open presents shortly. But I beg your permission now to borrow Miss Hoyt for just a little while, ladies. I do apologize.” He clasped her hand in his gloved one, tugging her toward the foyer as he spoke.
“What’s your rush?” she asked as he whisked her from the lighted salon and the ladies’ protests to lead her down the darkened hallway. She couldn’t remember ever being so excited, even as a child. Meath was all mysterious airs and eager whispers and—she’d missed him. She’d missed him terribly. He’d written these last few weeks, but the letters had been his usual whimsical complaints of Holland-laden furniture and mice in the bedding of his father’s neglected estate. He’d not sent her a single romantic word.
He found Belden’s dark study, dragged her in, and closed the door. “They will hunt for us soon, so I must be quick. I’ve brought a gift for you, but it’s up to you whether you wish to accept it. I hope you will like it. I’ve done nothing but worry about it these past weeks, but I think we know each other well. And I think we know our own selves. If you meant that I said the right things to heal your heart, I sincerely meant that I would be all that is respectable for you today.”
He pulled up a chair for her and lowered her into it, before half-dropping into a crouch, with his bad knee at an awkward angle. “I want to do this as proper as can be, because I know I am not always proper and you are. Miss Honora Hoyt, I love and adore you, and you would make me the happiest of men if you would agree to be my wife.” He removed a box from his pocket, opened it, and offered it to her.
Honora gasped, wanting to drag him back to his feet so he didn’t hurt himself, but too stunned by the moment she’d never expected to experience. Her heart beat faster than she could breathe. She flushed all over. She studied his square-boned face, eager expression, and warm dark eyes, and knew she would dream of him for the rest of her life if she was so foolish as to not take this risk now.
Only then, with that realization, did she acknowledge the gift he’d brought—a fine emerald set in a band surrounded by diamonds. “Oh, my.” Without even thinking, she held out her hand for him to place the ring on her finger. The weight of the band made it very real—made what was between them very real. She stood, forcing him to stand and straighten his poor leg.
She wrapped her arms
around his waist, rested her head against his chest, and said, “Yes, please, because my heart would shrivel and die without your love. It has grown cold and hard these last years, but love and happiness fills it now. I think, perhaps, we’ve waited quite long enough to learn what we want and need. And you most certainly deserve someone looking after you!”
He laughed as a jolly tune tinkled from the old harpsichord, reminding them that their time was limited. Meath hugged her so tightly, that Honora quite forgot to breathe. “As you deserve to be looked after by me,” he whispered.
And when he bent to kiss her, she knew Christmas would be her very favorite holiday from now until forever.
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