“Another one?” she asked, surprised.

He shrugged and allowed her to stuff a bite of chicken into his mouth. “Someday. I’m afraid it will take a grand attempt to dig out of our present hole.”

Honor giggled. “I love our hole,” she said, and leaned down to kiss his mouth. “I have enormous faith in you, husband,” she said, because she liked calling him that. “I know you will do it. And when you do, we’ll find a place that will fit all of my family and all of our children.”

“Even Grace?” he asked casually as he traced a grape around her nipple. “You’ve written her, haven’t you?”

Honor winced. “Not yet,” she said.

“Honor—”

“I know.” She sighed. “I’ve been avoiding it. She will be so cross with me, George, and I dread her reply. But it’s only been a fortnight since we were wed.”

“Only?” he said dubiously. “She should know, love,” he insisted, and sat up to kiss her breast.

“You’re right.” Honor sighed and closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of his lips and tongue on the peak of her breast. “You’re always right.”

“Mmm, say it again,” George said. “It arouses me to hear you admit it.”

“You’re right, darling. You’re right, you’re right,” she whispered as he began to suckle her.

George pushed the tray of food aside and rolled them over so that Honor was beneath him. “Once we have the Cabot girls under one roof, we’ll work on our house full of children, the great-grandchildren of a king.” He smiled as he leaned down to kiss the hollow of her belly. “With a name that no one can deny.”

Honor stroked his head and smiled up at the canopy as he began to drag his mouth down the hollow of her belly and to the apex of her legs. “I like the sound of that.”

“There is really no time to waste,” he said, moving lower, pulling her legs apart and dipping his head between them. “No time at all,” he muttered, and ran his tongue up her cleft.

Honor threw her arms above her head and smiled with delight as he began to lave her. They had a lifetime of making children, a journey unfolding that she’d never understood she’d wanted until faced with the prospect of not having it.

Oh, but Honor wanted that. She fiercely, deeply, passionately wanted it.

She would write to Grace and tell her...tomorrow.

At the moment, she was pleasantly and thoroughly occupied.



CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

GRACE WORE A plain blue gown with a collar, as instructed by Cousin Beatrice. She’d been sitting on a wooden bench for more than an hour, waiting. Her limbs ached, her head ached more. It was a small, dark office, and she wished someone would open the blinds. The only light was that of a single candle, making the room as bleak and as dark as her mood, even though it was only midday.

She stared at the crumpled vellum in her hand. She’d received it this morning, Cousin Beatrice pressing it into her hand when the carriage had come for her. Grace had read it three times, maybe four, and each time tears had streamed down her face.

Oh, Honor.

The door opened; a dark-haired man with fierce green eyes strode inside. He stood just at the door, one fist clenched at his side, lightly tapping against the jamb. One two three four five six seven eight. He dropped his hand. “It is time, Miss Cabot,” he said simply.

“Shouldn’t you call me Grace?”

He did not respond, but tapped the jamb again. One two three four five six seven eight.

Grace shoved the letter into her reticule and stood slowly. She looked at the man with the fierce green eyes and swallowed down a small lump of trepidation.

His jaw was clenched, his expression distant, cold and angry. When she did not move, he glanced at a small mantel clock. “Please, do come. It is time,” he said again.

She cast down her gaze as she moved past him, and winced when she heard the door shut resoundingly behind her.

How in heaven had she managed to create such a prodigiously complicated shambles of her life in such a short amount of time? She didn’t really know, but it looked as if she would have quite a lot of time to contemplate it and sort it all out before she wrote to Honor to tell her what had happened.

If she was allowed letters, that was. Grace wasn’t entirely certain what to expect any longer.

Fierce green eyes paused at the next door and knocked. As they waited for it to open, he tapped the jamb with his fist.

One two three four five six seven eight.

Grace glanced heavenward and sent up a silent prayer for courage.

* * * * *

Be sure to watch for Grace’s romance in


THE FALL OF GRACE,


coming only to Harlequin HQN in August.


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