Page 91
Jacob shielded Honoria with his body, her hand still in his. “You’d better leave. Now.”
“She is still my wife, Caldwell. Not yours. She belongs to me.”
“And you belong to the gallows. Yet here we are.”
Bradshaw lunged, but Jacob stepped forward, a hand to the man’s chest, keeping him away from Honoria.
“Hart, get in the carriage,” he commanded.
“But—”
“Just get inside.”
Honoria’s hand slipped from his grasp, and she hurried into the carriage.
“You don’t want to stand between me and my wife, Caldwell,” Bradshaw gritted. “Or you’re going to earn yourself an invitation at dawn.”
Jacob raised a brow. “Then do it—and be done with it.”
He half expected Bradshaw to back down, but the man’s pride wouldn’t let him. He straightened. “Name your second.”
“Lucien Drake,” Caldwell called.
Bradshaw huffed and finally stepped back. “I’ll be in touch then.” As he turned to leave, he cast a leering glance toward Honoria and muttered, “This isn’t over.”
Jacob was tempted to shoot him right there in the street. But he restrained himself and climbed into the carriage beside Honoria.
“What did he say to you?” she asked.
Jacob wasn’t about to tell her about the duel. He didn’t want to worry her more than she already was.
“Just the usual threats. Nothing to worry about,” he said instead. “Are you ready to go?”
She nodded and relaxed against the seat. “Yes, please. I want to go home.”
Home. He smiled.
He was taking her home.
* * *
Honoria was happy to be back home, in the safety of Caldwell Manor, surrounded by people she loved and who loved her in return.
The children had spent the days since her return practically hanging off her skirts, especially after Lady Somerville left for Florence. Their faces, alight with joy at her presence, helped ease the burden of what lay ahead.
In the days following the Tyrone ball, they had all been forced to stay indoors, gossip pounding at their doors. Newspapers arrived daily with constant references to the scandal, and neighbors’ carriages slowed conspicuously when passing their gates. It was impossible to escape, impossible to hide from—and it would remain that way for years.
Obtaining a divorce as a woman was not the easiest thing in the world.
No, no. It was the hardest thing in the world.
There needed to be at least two extenuating reasons, adultery being one of them—something Honoria could prove. She searched for every mistress Bradshaw had ever had and, with Lydia’s help, had found at least six.
Next was cruelty.
Bradshaw’s servants would never testify against him, and Lydia would have to out herself as a thief if she took the stand, so Honoria was left hoping the villagers who had seen her after she escaped with Lydia would come forward.
Caldwell had sent his men to find those villagers and obtain sworn statements from them, if possible.
