A Portrait of Love (The Academy of Love #3) - Minerva Spencer Page 0,131

and could not come to the wedding?”

Simon meant Serena’s wedding, which had been some months back.

“Yes, Annis could not come because she was in Scotland at the time.”

“That’s probably just as well. After meeting Lorelei, I think it might be better if you introduced your friends to me one at a time.”

Honey laughed. “Don’t worry, Annis is nothing like Lorelei.

Simon muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “Thank God for small favors.”

Honey smiled. “I wouldn’t have believed you were such a staunch defender of the aristocracy until I heard you brangling with Lorelei.”

“Ha! Your friend doesn’t want to just eliminate the peerage, she’d like to eliminate all peers. At least all male ones.”

“Poor Simon,” she teased. “Did Lorelei pin your ears back?” Honey knew her friend had talked Simon into a corner because she’d heard at least two of the arguments the pair had engaged in over the week they’d spend in Kent.

“More like tried to cut my bollocks off,” he groused in an under voice.

“Simon!”

“Well, it’s true. Having a conversation with her was akin to shoving a weasel down my breeches.”

Honey couldn’t help laughing. “I’m not going to ask how you would know such a thing.”

She’d have to pass that description of Lorelei’s debating skills along to her friend in her next letter; Lorie would love it.

“So, what does your friend Annis have to say?” Simon asked, clearly eager to leave the subject of Lorie and weasels behind.

“She is getting married and you’ll never believe to whom.”

“Lord, Honey—how would I know such a thing?”

“You’ll know because his name has been noised about in every paper for the last two months.”

Simon’s eyebrows shot up. “Good God—she’s marrying Whosy-Whatsit? Er, the one they’ve taken to calling the mysterious Earl of Rotherhithe?”

“Apparently so.” Honey was stunned. “My retiring, shy friend has somehow managed to land the catch of the decade.”

Simon sputtered. “But, darling—you told me that I was the catch of the decade.”

Honey looked up from the shocking letter and met the love of her life’s twinkling hydrangea gaze. “No, Simon—you’re the catch of a lifetime.”

His pupils flared and his cheeks—tanned by all the time he spent out of doors—flushed darkly. “Did I tell you today how much I love you?” he asked, his voice husky.

Honey adored the fact that it took only a few words or a well-placed look to have her intensely masculine husband eating out of the palm of her hand.

“Actually, I think you overlooked that this morning.”

That was a lie; Simon told her—and showed her—his love every single day.

But that didn’t mean Honey wouldn’t appreciate hearing it yet again.

He reached across the table and took her hand. “I love you, Lady Saybrook.”

“I love you, too, my lord.”

“A good way to show your love would be to paint my portrait—after you’ve delivered our son, of course.”

Honey laughed; there were already two of portraits of her husband hanging in their house: the one she’d painted all those years ago and the one she’d finished only a few months ago.

Honey had given him the older portrait as a wedding gift. Her masculine, rugged husband had been so touched when he’d seen the painting that she’d thought there might have been a tear or two welling in his glorious eyes.

“I think my next portrait should be of me astride Loki,” he mused, a smile pulling at his lips.

She shook her head. “I’m sorry, my dear, I’d love to paint you, yet again, but I’m afraid I’m engaged for the coming year.”

“Ah, yes. Alvanley’s spaniel, is it?”

Honey grinned.

“Wretch,” he accused, kissing her hand before releasing her.

The door opened and Rebecca entered, trailed by Enola MacLeish. Even though Becca was a few years older than the other girl, the two had grown to enjoy each other’s company a great deal. They were both single, lonely children who yearned for companionship.

“Good morning, girls,” Simon said. “Come to eat us out of house and home again?”

Enola, who was shy to the point of paralysis, blushed, while Rebecca rolled her eyes.

“Ignore him, girls. Have some breakfast,” Honey said.

She watched with tolerant amusement as the two attacked the sideboard.

Unlike her mother, Enola wasn’t much of a horsewoman. She hadn’t hunted with Bella, Becca, and Simon this past season. However, it turned out the girl had quite a talent for sketching and painting.

Honey knew that after Raymond’s death Wyndham and Simon had discussed their dead cousin’s child. She had been pleased to learn that Wyndham had already set up a trust for the girl and Enola would come into a