Free A Necessary Deception by Laurie Alice Eakes Page A

the gentlemen, not in a carriage, on horseback, or in a parlor, regardless of crowds around them.
    She wanted to stay alone in her room or find a quiet corner of the park to paint and think. But the hands of her clock pointed to 10:30, and Whittaker and de Meuse were expected any minute. Barnaby wasn’t expected for another half hour.
    And there went the knocker. The banging of the brass ring echoed up the steps of the tall, narrow townhouse. Across the hall, Honore and Cassandra’s bedchamber door opened.
    “Lydia?” Honore called. “Are you ready? I believe the gentlemen are here.”
    Lydia joined her younger sister in the passageway. “You look lovely.”
    “Not as pretty as you. How I wish I could wear that color.” Honore sighed.
    “And I’m wishing I’d chosen your deep blue instead of red.” Lydia smiled. “But the blue suits you. It matches your eyes.”
    “And Mr. Frobisher’s.” Honore’s eyes grew dreamy. “Did you notice that we have the same coloring? Don’t we make a nice picture?”
    “If I say no, it would be a lie, but, Honore, you can’t be thinking . . . I mean, you just met him. You know nothing of him.”
    “He’s a friend of your friend. Isn’t that enough? And in my novels—”
    “Novels are called fiction for a reason, child.” Lydia smoothed a curling strand of hair off Honore’s face. “Life isn’t like that at all.”
    “But you barely knew Sir Charles before you married him. Wasn’t that love at first sight? Didn’t you feel like your heart would just beat out of your chest when you looked at him, and get all warm—”
    “That’s not love.” Lydia softened her tone. “Honore, love isn’t a feeling. It’s deeper. It’s friendship and understanding and—”
    What did she know about love? Charles had departed for his regiment before the first blush of marital bliss had faded. He’d departed and doused the flames with the chill of rejection.
    “We didn’t have friendship.” Lydia blinked against a mist in her eyes. “Get to know the gentleman a little first, Honore. He mentioned going to Watier’s. Men play a deep game there. You don’t want a gamester for a husband. And we don’t know if he’s a man of property.”
    “I have a fine dowry.”
    “Honore, please don’t toss your hat over the windmill for the first pretty face you see. Now, let’s be on our way. Monsieur de Meuse and Lord Whittaker are waiting.”
    “Not Mr. Barnaby and Mr. Frobisher?” Honore’s full lips dropped into a pout. “But I understood they would be.”
    “Perhaps later.”
    God had ignored her prayers to keep the men away, at least until de Meuse had departed for whatever occupied his time. She didn’t want to pretend liking or even politeness with either man.
    “Then perhaps I should wait.” Honore half turned toward her bedchamber door.
    “You’re coming with us.” Lydia curved her hand around Honore’s elbow and steered her toward the steps.
    “But there won’t be a gentleman to accompany me. I’m like a carriage with five wheels. It would look unbalanced.”
    “My dear girl, if we don’t attract a whole platoon of eligible young men, I’ll be surprised. Now scoot.”
    Honore scooted with enough alacrity to give Lydia hope that her younger sister liked the idea of other young men swarming around her. And surely they would. She was so pretty and sweet, if a bit too dreamy. Those dreams—the belief that attraction could be instant and permanent—caused trouble for too many young women. If Honore was one of them . . .
    But she wouldn’t be. Lydia would make sure of it. That was one reason she’d asked de Meuse to come a half hour earlier than Barnaby and Frobisher planned to arrive.
    With the time limit in mind, Lydia followed her youngest sister down the steps to the entryway. Honore stood talking to de Meuse and Whittaker, who poised beside them in a stance suggesting he intended to dash off somewhere at any moment.
    “Where’s Cassandra?”