Eight Hunting Lyons (The Lyon’s Den Connected World)

Chapter Ten

A warm, gentle breeze ruffled the skirt of Honoria’s oldest gown, the one she’d started thinking of as her gardening frock, as she strolled through the riotously colorful blooms in the formal rose garden at Knowlton’s Keep. The heady perfume of the multitude of different roses made this the sweetest spot on the estate and Honoria’s favorite place there. In the past week, she’d sought it out almost every day as a tranquil retreat when the countess’s daily duties became overwhelming.

Fortunately, she was becoming used to the routine, little by little: breakfast in bed at her husband’s insistence, then an hour with the housekeeper and Cook setting tasks and menus for the day. After that nerve-wracking task—she always feared she would do or say something that would reflect badly on her or Thomas in the servants’ eyes—she allowed herself an hour to relax and write letters home. Honoria longed to write to Mrs. Edwards, but Thomas had been adamant about having no way to trace their whereabouts, so she’d settled for writing only to her parents and sister, Grace.

After luncheon, the modiste from Chichester had come, first to measure her and show her sketches of all manner of dresses, and later in the week to fit the dresses and decide on the final trimmings. Honoria had been aghast when Paxton informed her how many gowns she would be expected to own each Season. Her four or five good gowns for winter and the same amount for summer at the vicarage had arrived in the early part of the week, and Paxton had refurbished them beautifully.

According to her lady’s maid, however, once they returned to London, she might be required to change clothes four or five times a day. In addition, she’d be obliged to wear new garments each time she appeared in public. She’d been fearful that Thomas might be displeased at the cost of so many dresses, but he’d merely chuckled when she’d expressed concern, and told her he wanted her dressed to the nines whenever they appeared in Town.

“And it won’t be amiss if you wish to show off your new gowns when we dine, my dear.” His eyes had twinkled and warmed to a deeper brown as he spoke. “I will be happy to see you in your splendor in a private setting.”

Miss Potter, the modiste, had been as good as her word, delivering the first several completed garments yesterday, and promising the remaining ones by early next week. Honoria’s head spun when she thought about it. Paxton had also advised her to travel into Chichester early to shop for incidentals, such as hats, gloves, stockings, handkerchiefs, and the like. After her sessions with Miss Potter and Paxton, Honoria quite often slipped out to the garden to catch her breath and still her mind from the thousand things she must think about each day.

Now, serenity surrounded Honoria as she strolled toward her favorite rose bush, the old rose called sweetbriar or Eglantine . The velvety dark pink petals were not as showy as some of the other varieties in the garden, but their scent of sweet apples, especially after it rained, enchanted her senses. Taking the pair of garden shears from her cutting basket, Honoria selected several stems with multiple blooms and began to snip. Cutting and arranging vases of flowers was her most enjoyable duty as mistress of the Keep. She spent at least an hour in one of the gardens each day, gathering the beautiful flowers, then another pleasant hour or so arranging them. The myriad rooms in the castle kept her thus employed, creating charming vases for different rooms.

Having secured enough of the Eglantine , Honoria moved to the lovely snowy white blooms of the Alba Maximus . Of course, she’d not known many of the roses’ names when Thomas first showed her the garden. He’d patiently told her about each of the varieties, until now she knew them almost as well as he did. The white Alba had been brought to the garden by Thomas’s ancestor’s mother, a great gardener in her own right, who loved bringing in new stock to expand the garden. Other countesses had added to the garden’s glory, and Honoria hoped to carry on that tradition once they were more settled. She snipped several blooms and moved on to the delicately pink Maiden’s Blush .

Honoria’s cheeks heated, a true maiden’s blush when she thought of Thomas’s words about this rose.

“We English call it Maiden’s Blush , for its soft pink petals, just the shade of your cheeks right now, my dear.” He’d laughed, and Honoria had clapped her hands to her face. “But I’ve heard it had another name in France, given it by Empress Josephine. Cuisse de Nymph Emu .” Leaning down, he whispered in her ear, “If you don’t speak French, Cuisse de Nymph Emu means Thigh of an Aroused Nymph .”

A wave of heat had coursed through her whole body as her husband had chuckled and observed that she now looked much the hue of the Scarlet Four Seasons rose over in the corner.

Now she couldn’t look at the pretty pink flowers without blushing or thinking of that scandalous French name. She quickly snipped a few of the blooms and headed swiftly toward the vividly pink roses named after the Duchess of Portland. The heady fragrance assailed her nose before she was even close to them. When she reached the deep pink blooms, she leaned over and stuck her nose inside, inhaling the gorgeous scent deep into her lungs. She must try to steep some petals in water in her chamber to bring this delicious smell to her baths.

“Were I an artist, I’d insist on painting you just as you are, my dear.”

Honoria jumped and whirled around at the sound of Thomas’s voice, scattering some of her clippings as she turned. “Oh, you startled me, Thomas. I thought I was alone out here.”

“I didn’t find you in the house and somehow knew this was where you would be.” Her husband smiled that charming, lazy smile, and her knees went weak. “Let me pick these up as I have been the cause for their fall.” Taking the basket from her, he stooped and carefully placed the stems back in her basket. As he picked up the Maiden’s Blush he chuckled softly, and Honoria’s cheeks flamed again. “These should make excellent displays.” He rose and handed her the basket. “You have quite a talent for arranging them.”

“Thank you.” Resisting the urge to fan herself, Honoria took the basket and sauntered to the nearest rose bush, which happened to be an exquisite deep pink Apothecary’s Rose . “Why were you looking for me? Ouch!” She’d grabbed the rose too hastily, and a thorn bit deeply into her thumb. “That hurt.”

“Let me see.” Beside her in a moment, Thomas cupped her hand in his and turned it palm up. A large bead of dark red blood had welled up on the pad of her thumb. He brushed the drop away, then raised her thumb to his lips and kissed it.

Honoria gasped as a streak of lightning seemed to race through her hand, up her arm, and lodge itself at her innermost core. Dazed, she stared up into his dark brown eyes, filled with a longing she understood all too well.

As the weeks here at the Keep had worn on, Honoria had come to admire her husband greatly. In fact, if she were to be honest, admiration had turned in great part to affection for him. She enjoyed his company immensely. Their conversations were often spirited, and she suspected that he took as much pleasure in their encounters as she did. Did this jolt of fire signify that her affections for him had ripened to something akin to love? Had his?

Leaning down, Thomas cupped her chin and drew her head upward, until his lips touched hers. Though that first contact was light as a butterfly, he immediately pressed harder, even as she pushed back against him. He’d kissed her every night when he left her at her chamber door, each kiss longer and deeper than the last until Honoria had secretly yearned for more. Now he ran his tongue along the seam of her closed lips, seeking entry that she quickly allowed him. Oh, she’d learned so much about kisses from her husband in the past few days. He always seemed eager to kiss her, but he never continued his good-night kisses as long as she would have liked. Perhaps now she’d be able to drink her fill.

Opening her lips, Honoria reveled in the feel of his tongue sliding smoothly into her mouth. In response, she dropped the basket and slid her arms around Thomas’s neck, pulling him close against her. Heat surged through every part of her, as though her veins carried molten lava instead of blood. A rightness descended upon her, as though they melded together as one person in that kiss. Oh, yes, this was what she wanted. Carried away by sensations she didn’t quite understand, Honoria gingerly pushed her tongue into Thomas’s mouth.

A guttural groan escaped him before he pulled away, gasping for breath. He stared down at her, eyes wide and unbelieving. “Honoria…”

Suddenly embarrassed beyond belief, she turned away to hide her cheeks, which must surely rival the sun in their redness. “I’m sorry…”

“Do not be.” Standing directly behind her, he slipped his hands around her upper arms and pulled her back against him. “You enjoyed the kiss?”

Overcome with shyness, all she could do was nod.

His lips nuzzled the nape of her neck, sending chills down her spine. “I enjoyed it as well, my love.”

My love . He’d never called her that before. Did that mean he had come to feel some affection for her as well? Or was it merely another formal endearment, like “my dear”? And how on earth could she discover what he meant? She raised her head and turned around. “You did?”

“Very much.” Thomas traced the outline of her lips. “So much I wish we could continue a bit longer.” His eyes held the hunger they so often did. “However, I’ve just received a letter from Lord Sanderling, our neighbor bordering the south edge of the estate. He’s asked me to ride over to discuss selling part of the property to me.” Thomas frowned. “I’m not sure why he’s decided to sell now, but the land is excellent, and I will acquire it if I can. That is why I was looking for you originally. To tell you I’ll be gone until evening, perhaps very late. So please don’t wait for dinner for me.”

“Oh.” Disappointment washed over Honoria. She’d hoped, after that kiss, that perhaps they might spend the rest of the afternoon…together. But, of course, Thomas must attend to the business of the estate and earldom. She would need to carry on here without him, unless… “If you wish me to wait, Thomas, I wouldn’t mind.”

“No, my dear. You should not put off your dinner.”

Inside, Honoria drooped but was determined not to let him see her disappointment. “Very well, then.” She smiled, hoping it looked genuine. “I will see you perhaps tomorrow at breakfast.”

“Don’t you enjoy your breakfast in bed?”

“Oh, yes, I do.” She hastened to reassure him, afraid he might think her ungrateful for his generous suggestion. “But I’d like to breakfast with you if I may. Then you can tell me of your business with Lord Sanderling.”

“It would be my pleasure, my dear.” He leaned over and grazed her cheek with his lips, making her stomach flutter uncontrollably. “However, I must go now. The groom is holding Paladin, and I don’t want him to stand too long.”

“Of course. Have a nice ride.” Honoria put on her brave face, eyes wide, chin up, smile on her lips. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

With one last lingering look, Thomas turned and strode quickly back up the central path toward the entrance to the garden.

Once he was out of sight, Honoria allowed herself to stop smiling. She must cease moping about because her husband wasn’t here. There would be many times they would be apart for longer than the course of one evening. She’d have to get used to that, although she’d hoped—after that kiss she could still feel down to her toes—that he’d have perhaps put off his visit at least until the next day.

Honoria picked up the basket and trudged back over to the Apothecary Rose , where she’d been interrupted when making her cuttings.

Perhaps she’d been wrong about Thomas. Perhaps his affections weren’t engaged. She picked up the shears and resolutely snipped two stems in quick succession. Just because he’d been unceasingly kind to her ever since they married didn’t mean he’d come to care for her. Thomas was a kind and generous person at his core. She doubted he could act any other way toward a woman. Which was wonderful to know about her husband, and yet it left her completely unsure of any deeper feelings or affections he might have for her in particular. She dropped the roses into her basket, then picked it up and started for the rose beds at the far end of the garden.

Three more stems and she’d have enough to replenish the vases in the large reception room. Carefully, she grasped the small, peachy pink Celestial rose and snipped, dropping the sweet-smelling blooms into the basket. Two more snips and she placed the flower shears beneath the cut flowers and hefted the basket.

A tall shadow fell over the Celestial bush. The shadow of a man. Thomas had changed his mind after all and come back. All her misgivings vanished, shaming her with her doubts as they left. She would make those doubts up to him.

“Thomas!” Honoria whirled around and stopped short, her breath halting in her throat as though a huge hand had cut it off with a single squeeze.

Before her stood Lord Danford, a sickening leer on his lips and jet-black desire in his ravening eyes.