A Portrait of Love (The Academy of Love #3) - Minerva Spencer Page 0,3
she said in a breathy voice that was likely inaudible above the street sounds.
“When you visit, we can ride out to Everley, which is not far from the duke’s home.”
“That would be lovely.” It was all she could force out, her mind too busy imagining herself mounted on a magnificent horse beside him, galloping across a stark, lonely moor.
He spoke of his home and family on the brief ride and his words were like a siren’s song that held her entranced.
Carriages lined both sides of the street outside Gunter’s; clearly they weren’t the only ones to have such an idea on a beautiful day.
“It will be stuffy inside and the tables outside are taken,” Simon said. “Shall we enjoy our treat in velvet-lined comfort?”
Honey and Miss Keeble agreed and Simon gestured to one of the waiters. Once they’d placed their orders they sat back and watched the fluctuating crowd, many of whom seemed to know Simon.
Honoria was deep inside a fantasy where she and Simon were married and leaving for their country home tomorrow, only stopping to take leave of their many, many friends when Simon uttered a word—just one single word, but one that pulsed with more emotion than she’d heard from him in an entire month.
“Bella!”
Simon’s enraptured expression sent her plummeting back down to earth. He was gazing at three women who’d stopped beside the carriage. To be precise, he was only looking at one of the women, and with his heart in his eyes.
Honey stared, too. She—Bella—was the most beautiful woman that she had ever seen.
“Hello, Simon.” Bella smiled up at him as he scrambled down from the carriage. Her cherry red lips parted slightly to reveal dazzling, white teeth. She had skin like proverbial porcelain and navy-blue eyes. Her hair was brown, dark enough to look black, the ringlets glossy and luxurious beneath her straw bonnet.
Simon wore an expression she’d never seen before: abject worship.
Honey felt something crack inside her chest: Simon loved this beautiful creature.
“Mrs. Frampton, Bella, Agnes—what are you doing in London at this time of year?”
His words seemed to come from the bottom of a very deep well, and it was all she could do to remain upright in her seat.
The older woman—Mrs. Frampton—Honey supposed, answered him, “Agnes is getting married next month and we needed a few last-minute pieces of this and that.” She was speaking of one daughter, but her eyes were on the other—the one who looked like an angel come to earth—right before her faded blue gaze flickered to Honoria.
The gesture was minute, but Lord Simon had impeccable manners. Usually.
A flush covered his beautiful, high cheekbones when he realized that he’d neglected his hosting duties. “Mrs. Frampton, Miss Agnes Frampton, and Miss Arabella Frampton, I have the honor of introducing you to Miss Honoria Keyes and her companion, Miss Keeble. Miss Keyes is Daniel Keyes’s daughter.”
Nods and smiles all around, but Honoria could hardly take her eyes off Arabella Frampton long enough to even remember what the other two women looked like. Either could Simon.
A waiter appeared with their ices.
“Would you care to join us?” Simon offered, blissfully unaware that his six words were like an ax to her heart.
“Yes, please do,” Honey said mechanically when four pairs of blue eyes turned her way.
The women did a very unconvincing job of demurring and Simon opened the barouche door and gestured inside. “Please. We shall be a bit cozy but I’m sure Miss Keyes will not mind?”
Nobody noticed that her smile was more suited to a death mask and Honey soon found herself staring across at the three newcomers, Miss Keeble now beside her.
The strawberry ice she’d ordered tasted like ashes and she wanted to be back at home, in her bed with the blankets pulled over her head. And never come out.
Later, she couldn’t recall a single word that was spoken, her only memory Simon’s expression and the way his eyes had lingered on the dark-haired beauty every chance he got.
She slept very little that night, her once vibrant world suddenly gray and colorless.
The next day was his final sitting and Honey had planned to remain in her room and avoid seeing him—hopefully ever again. But her father put an end to that hope at breakfast.
“You look as though you didn’t sleep well, Honey. What is the matter?” he asked when she joined him in the sunny breakfast room that overlooked the back garden.
Honey usually had a healthy appetite and her father would have been suspicious if she’d refrained