The Original Miss Honeyford (18 page)

“Is this the weapon?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, I recognize it as Channington’s,” lied Lord Alistair.

“Lord Channington was most kind. He is a very brave man,” said Honey. “He wrote a letter exonerating me before he collapsed.”

“That’s a mercy,” said Mr. Benskin, who was holding a bowl of water for the doctor. “No need to call the magistrate.”

“And he will live,” said Dr. Bradfield. “You did a good job of cleaning the wound, Mr. Benskin.”

“Wasn’t me,” said the landlord.

“Thank you, doctor,” said Honey quietly. “I cleaned the wound.”

“You are a very brave lady,” said Dr. Bradfield, looking at her with approval.

“I gave him laudanum,” said Honey, “which is why he is sleeping so heavily.”

“Good. Good. Now… er…”

“Miss Honeyford.”

“Now Miss Honeyford, I am about to extract the ball. You may retire. I have enough help.”

Honey left the room without looking at Lord Alistair.

Lord Alistair felt immeasurably tired. It had been an accident. And so familiar was Miss Honeyford with Channington that she had bathed his wound.

The morning dawned bright and glorious, but both Honey and Lord Alistair slept like the dead in their respective rooms.

It was eleven o’clock in the morning when Honey eventually made her way downstairs. She ate a large breakfast and went to sit in the inn garden.

It was very peaceful. The first roses were scenting the air and the long leaves of a willow dappled the grass with moving patterns of light and shade.

The first thing that struck her was that Lord Alistair had ridden in search for her. The second was that Lady Canon had coerced him into it.

He would no doubt shortly arrive on the scene to bully and lecture her and try to force her to go back to London.

But she would not!

She was determined to take Lord Channington home to Kelidon with her, even if it meant holding a pistol to his head for the rest of the journey.

A shadow fell across the grass and she looked up into the steady blue eyes of Lord Alistair. Her lips twisted in a wry smile.

“Men were deceivers ever,” she said.

“And a good few women, too,” he said, sitting down next to her. “I took a look at your beloved. He is sleeping like a pig and has no fever.”

“How soon will we be able to travel?”

“You mean to go through with this? Channington will not marry you.”

“Oh, yes he will,” said Honey grimly.

“Before I wring your neck, you had better tell me
exactly
what happened.”

“Why not?” Honey shrugged. “It is all very simple. After Lady Canon told me that you had merely been following her instructions before fleeing to the country to escape the consequences of your wooing, Lord Channington asked me to elope with him.

“I liked him and trusted him. I had promised myself to bring my father home a good husband. Lord Channington said we were to stay with his mother and be married from there.”

“Channington’s mother died five years ago, or thereabouts.”

“Oh.” Honey did not look in the least surprised. “Our journey went very well until last night, when he appeared in my bedchamber. He tried to rip my nightgown, but it would not tear and the force of the pull made my feet slip on the boards. I fell down and slid between his legs. I was holding my pistol and so I shot him.”

“Right in the bum.”

“Yes, as you so crudely put it.”

“But at least he had the gallantry to write that letter.”

“Not he. I forced him at pistol point to write it.”

“But you cannot possibly want to marry such a man.”

“Any man will do,” said Honey wearily. “Why go back to London to sit waving my fan in hot rooms, hunting feverishly for a husband? I do not care who I marry.”

“Miss Honeyford, did you receive my letter?”

“Oh, yes. That. I burned it without reading it.”

“Why?”

“Because you had only pretended to love me.”

“Miss Honeyford, I have ridden hard and searched well to find you. I have been attacked by highwaymen. I am still exhausted. What do I have to do to convince you I love you? Shoot myself?”

“You are funning.”

“The deuce! I am sound in wind and limb. Does your father only look kindly on seducers and wastrels?”

“You cannot want to marry me,” said Honey not daring to believe him. “We would have to return to Kelidon. My father needs a man to help him with the land.”

“My love, you never asked me what I was doing so far north when we first met on the road. I had been spending some time with an old friend just north of Kelidon, advising
him
how to put his land in good heart.”

“I cannot imagine you doing anything so energetic,” said Honey, for Lord Alistair was restored to his former glory, having bathed and changed into morning dress.

“I can be very energetic. I can even take you to Kelidon and arrange a special license.”

Honey began to tremble. “Do you
really
want to marry me?”

He leaned over and lifted her out of her chair and placed her on his knees.

“Kiss me, Honoria,” he said.

“My friends call me Honey.”

“Then kiss me, Honey.”

Honey screwed up her eyes and pursed her lips, frightened she might find that the old magic had gone. But no sooner had his mouth covered her own than she was swept back to that magical country where passion made time stand still.

“We must wait until poor Lord Channington has recovered,” she said when she could.

“Forget Channington, he is not like to die.”

“Perhaps I may have reformed him,” said Honey earnestly.

“No, I think not. Once the wound to his pride and his bottom heals, he will find some other female to seduce and as quickly as possible.”

“But we cannot travel north on horseback?”

“Quite right. We will take Channington’s carriage. Since you will have to stay with me unchaperoned at every inn on the road to Kelidon, you will be so sadly compromised by the time we arrive that you will have to marry me.”

“Alistair,” said Honey, burying her face in his waistcoat, “I do not think I can permit… until we are married, I do not think…”

He laughed and raised her chin and smiled down into her eyes. “I can wait,” he said. “With very great difficulty, I can wait, although it will be sweet torture. Kiss me again.”

A few hours later, Lord Channington petulantly tugged the bellrope and demanded to see Mr. Benskin.

“Where is everybody?” he demanded when the landlord entered the room. “I could have died.”

“Now, now,” said Mr. Benskin soothingly, “Dr. Bradfield said he would call.”

“Where is my sister… I mean Miss Honeyford?”

“Her’s left.”

“That’s a mercy. Good riddance to a hellcat. The sooner I return to London the better. I will need a team of fresh horses…”

“Begging your pardon, my lord, but that other gen’leman, Lord Alistair, he and miss has taken your carriage.”

“She is not a woman,” said Lord Channington passionately. “She is a witch, a monster, a harpie…”

Mr. Benskin bowed his way out of the room, leaving Lord Channington cursing and raving.

Three months later, Lord Alistair was lying in bed, reading his correspondence. Beside him, fast asleep, lay his wife.

He opened a letter from Lady Canon and his eyebrows went up in surprise as he read its contents.

He nudged Honey with his elbow. “Wake up, my love. Tremendous news.”

Honey came sleepily awake. As she struggled up against the pillows, her flimsy nightdress strained against her breasts. Lord Alistair sighed with pleasure, threw the letter on the floor, and gathered his wife into his arms.

An hour later, Honey asked sleepily, “Why did you wake me?”

“I forget,” he whispered against her hair. “Oh, I remember. There is news of Channington.”

“What has happened to him?”

“He is to be married.”

“There you are,” said Honey proudly. “The shock of his attempted elopement with me must have reformed him.”

“Not a bit of it. It only started a run of bad luck for him. Lady Canon says he was paying assiduous court to a Miss Teesdale. He was trying his old ploy of proposing to her before persuading her to elope with him. He had bribed the servants to let him into the house while the rest of the family were out. But the Teesdales treat their servants well. So when Lord Channington was down on his knees, the whole family burst out from behind screens in the drawing room where they had been hiding and welcomed him to the bosom of the family.”

“Poor Miss Teesdale.”

“She evidently knew all about Lord Channington, according to Lady Canon, and
she
set the plot to trap
him
. She has four enormous brothers who are all in the guards. They have promised her she will marry Channington.”

Honey began to laugh, her ruffled chestnut curls glinting in the morning sun, and her besotted husband found the sight so enchanting that he thought it would be a very good idea to make love to her again.