Free The Original Miss Honeyford by M.C. Beaton Page B

was a great press of traffic when they reached Oxford Street. Lord Alistair let the reins drop and allowed his horses to edge their way forward.
    Honey reflected that she would have enjoyed the novelty of sitting high above the crowd in this dashing open carriage at any other time and with any other companion.
    Then she saw Amy Wetherall with her father and mother approaching in an open landau.
    Lord Alistair stopped in mid-lecture and looked down at Honey in amazement. For she had started to laugh, a very charming laugh, and she was gazing up at him with a warm, flirtatious light in her eyes. He suddenly found it very amusing that he, of all people, should be playing the heavy father, and smiled back.
    Amy Wetherall looked up and saw them—as Honey meant her to do—apparently on the best of terms. The traffic halted.
    Amy remembered Honey because of her outrageously short hairstyle. “Miss Honeyford!” she called. “It is I!”
    Honey looked down and raised her eyebrows with a pretty show of surprise before smiling and waving her hand in welcome.
    Then both carriages moved on in their opposite directions.
    “Who on earth was that ravishing creature?” asked Lord Alistair.
    “Miss Amy Wetherall.”
    “Ah, the reigning belle. She is exquisite.”
    Honey folded her arms and glared straight ahead.
    “Mama,” Amy was saying plaintively, “do you not think my hair is unbecomingly long?”
    “No, darling,” said Mrs. Wetherall. “You are the most beautiful girl in London, and you do not need to alter your appearance.”
    But Amy bit her lip. Honey’s hair, which had looked so
outré
in Kelidon, looked oddly modish in London. It
must
be modish to get a high stickler like Lord Alistair Stewart to smile at her that way. Lord Alistair had been pointed out to Amy a week before when that gentleman had been driving in the Park, and Amy had thought of him ever since.
    Lord Alistair thankfully set Miss Honeyford down outside Lady Canon’s home in Charles Street. His mind was full of the beautiful Miss Wetherall. There was a pearl! Miss Wetherall would not smoke cheroots, drink brandy, wave a pistol, or nearly get herself killed at a public hanging.
    Honey was glad to get away from
him
, horrible, nagging man.
    But the horrible nagging was not over, for Lady Canon was ready to deliver herself of her lecture. She ended up by saying she would take the liberty of dismissing Honey’s servants and write and tell Sir Edmund why she had taken the liberty of doing so.
    “Then you may dismiss me, my lady,” said Honey quietly, “for they are part of my family. They are very loyal and obedient. I ordered them to take me with them, and they could not do else but obey. You
will not
dismiss them.”
    Lady Canon blinked a little at the quiet dignity in Honey’s face.
    Honey had not told her of the terrible crowd deaths at the hanging, or of her rescue by Lord Alistair. Let Lady Canon continue to think for as long as possible that she had merely gone to a vulgar spectacle.
    “Well, well,” said Lady Canon rather breathlessly,
“your
loyalty does you credit, and I will say no more on the matter. Your servants may return to the north as planned. But I expect
you
, dear Honoria, to give
me
the same loyalty. From now on you will behave impeccably. Do I have your promise?”
    “Oh, yes,” said Honey gratefully, prepared to swear anything so as to keep Lady Canon off the subject of Jem, Peter, and Abraham.
    “Your debut is tomorrow night. It is all important,” said Lady Canon. “Put off your cloak and we will continue your lessons. You have said farewell to your servants so you need not trouble about them again.”
    But although Honey really meant to reform, Lady Canon would have been very shocked if she could have seen her niece at dawn the next day, a niece who stood in the mews hugging her coachman and grooms, the tears running down her face as she said her final farewells.

Five
    Honey had been looking forward to her first