Page 29

Honoria glanced at her timepiece. Half past ten.

She spent the first few hours of the ball running back and forth, putting out fires, ensuring the refreshments table was always filled, the garden paths were lit, the decorations were not wilted, and everything was running smoothly.

While Lydia… Well, Lydia was flitting like a butterfly from one cluster of people to the next. Her mission was easy: enlist the help of a scandalous widow to distract Thorn with a tryst, steal his ring, and flutter away. Easy enough for Lydia. She had done similar missions dozens of times without a problem.

Yet this wasn’t just any mission. And in her heart of hearts, Honoria knew that it was doomed to fail.

Not because Lydia was a bad thief—she was excellent at what she did, the best in London. But because of who she was trying to steal from.

The only man Lydia had ever loved.

Still loved.

Always would.

Honoria felt pity for her friend. To be face to face with the man she pined over for years, while another woman was entertaining him…

Honoria’s gaze shifted to Lord Caldwell, all broad-shouldered and elegant in his black evening coat, surrounded by a group of affluent ladies and their unmarried daughters.

He was clean-shaven, and thus almost unrecognizable with the crisp cravat around his neck that he kept tugging at. Honoria allowed herself a small smile. He didn’t like tight things wrapped around his neck, or any place, really. That’s why he never wore any jewelry, not even a signet ring.

He would hate a wedding band, too, her traitorous mind whispered. Not that gentlemen were required to wear them.

Honoria watched as his aunt, Lady Somerville, led him from one young, beautiful girl to the next with the determination of a general marching her best soldier into battle.

And Caldwell played his part flawlessly. He bowed, smiled, and murmured the appropriate pleasantries. Smiled again.

Not his real smile.

Not the one she’d seen in quieter moments—in the garden teaching Elise about flowers, at the stream swimming with Robbie, or the nursery door watching Rosie fall asleep.

But a smile, nonetheless.

He was doing his duty. Looking for a wife. Exactly as Lady Somerville had planned.

And though Honoria’s jealousy twisted like a blade inside her, there was nothing she could do. There was nothing that needed to be done. Soon, she’d be gone, and Caldwell would marry some proper young lady who would take her rightful place as the Countess of Caldwell. And the children—

Caldwell offered his arm to a dark-haired lady Honoria didn’t recognize and led her onto the dance floor.

—the children would have their guardian’s wife to care for them.

Someone else to guide Elise through her adulthood and give her advice. Someone else to encourage Robbie to chase his dreams. Someone else to comfort Rosie after her nightmares.

It should be me, her heart insisted.

“Where did you want the chocolate fountain, miss?” A footman’s voice sounded by her shoulder, pulling her back into the real world.

“The table in the southeast corner,” Honoria said with a smile, reminded her of her real place.

She was just a servant. And soon, she wouldn’t even be that.

Honoria took a step back, hiding deeper in the shadows of a large fern. She took a deep breath. She needed to concentrate and not daydream about the life she would never have. She looked around just in time to spot Lydia making her way toward Honoria.

She didn’t look happy; in fact, she looked rather pale.

Honoria glanced at her timepiece.

Ten thirty-five.