Honor's Players - By Holly Newman Page 0,15

you saying, man?”

“Frankly I find Helene no different from a dozen other insipid debutantes of the season such as my mother has tried to put in my way. I have heretofore ignored them all,” he stated, nearly gritting his teeth, his face white under his tan.

Lord Monweithe blinked uncertainly and slowly resumed his seat while staring bemusedly at St. Ryne.

The Viscount went on: “The only woman I could possibly consider marrying is your daughter Elizabeth. Do not cast aspersions on her character to me!” The strange rage consuming him burned out suddenly, and once again he relaxed in his chair. “She’s had enough,” he muttered to himself. The strength of his own emotions stunned him.

Lord Monweithe caught the last of what he said very faintly and wondered if he had heard right. He was amazed and knew he must recover himself.

“Now, now, easy lad. No harm meant.” He laughed with false joviality as he warily studied St. Ryne’s shuttered expression. ‘Now, would I say my Elizabeth must marry first if I didn’t care for her? Well now? Sorry I misunderstood you, but you know we were discussing my daughter Helene as we came in the room, and then you took me by surprise, that’s all, my boy.”

St. Ryne neither smiled nor responded and the broad smile on the Earl’s face faded slightly.

“So you want to marry my Elizabeth, do you? Well, well, I’d be proud to welcome you to the family.”

The twisted smile reappeared on St. Ryne’s face. “Thank you, sir,” he said wryly.

Monweithe leaned back in his chair. “Ha, ha. I saw you dancing with my gal at Lady Amblethorp’s. Love at first sight, was it? Fine gal, fine gal. And handsome, too.” He looked keenly at St. Ryne. “Daresay you’re just the man to handle her too, from the tales I’ve heard.”

St. Ryne stiffened slightly, but the Earl, reaching out for the bell pull, did not notice. Almost immediately his summons was answered by the appearance of his butler at the door. So prompt was that worthy’s appearance, St. Ryne wondered sardonically if Elizabeth’s reputation was not perhaps due in large measure to servants listening in keyholes. “Jovis, ask Lady Elizabeth to join me in the library.”

“Very good, my lord.”

“Let us have a toast,” Lord Monweithe suggested to St. Ryne, rising from his desk and going to the sideboard where there stood a decanter and several glasses. “Always like to have a little to hand,” he explained, pouring two glasses of a deep tawny port. “Here, lad—a toast to Elizabeth.”

St. Ryne raised his glass in silent salute.

Jovis returned a moment later, coughing softly to gain the Earl's attention.

“Well, where is she?” Lord Monweithe asked, irritated, nevertheless keeping a wary eye on his prospective son-in- law.

“Beg pardon, my lord, but the Lady Elizabeth says as how she is doing some mending, she cannot come.”

“What! You tell that—” Monweithe started to exclaim but stopped in confusion seeing the shuttered look come over St. Ryne’s face. He looked at St. Ryne helplessly.

St. Ryne put his glass down and rose from his chair. Bowing to the Earl, a slow trace of a smile began to cross his face. “It is always best to get over heavy ground as lightly as possible. May I have your trust, sir?”

“Ah, of course lad. No need to ask.”

“Good. Then I shall start as I mean to go on,” St. Ryne stated. He turned to Jovis. “Please conduct me to the Lady Elizabeth.”

Lord Monweithe looked carefully at St. Ryne then nodded his consent.

St. Ryne followed the butler upstairs to a small parlor at the back of the house, forestalled his announcing him, and signaled the man’s dismissal with a jerk of his head. Smiling to himself in anticipation of the encounter, he opened the door.

The room was shabbier than the rest of the house but its tall windows let in the streaming sunlight. Seated with her feet tucked up under her on a small, faded gold sofa by the windows, a stack of mending by her side was the Lady Elizabeth Monweithe. She was wearing a much worn, faded blue gown that was tight across the bodice. Her long dark hair was pulled back and held by a silk ribbon. The sunlight shining on her hair showed glowing red and gold highlights. When she looked up as the door opened, her expression was one of exasperation at being disturbed yet again, but when she saw who stood there in the doorway, her color rose.

“You!”

Justin’s smile broadened. Closing