My Lady's Honor. Julia Justiss

for social conversation in which he had little interest, had drifted into reverie, but at the mention of his name, he straightened and gave his aunt one of his sweet-tempered smiles. “I brought you a present, Aunt Alice.” He rummaged for a moment in his pocket, then produced a smooth, symmetrical stone of clear pale hue. “I polished it until it was round and pretty.”

      “Why, it’s lovely! Thank you, Parry! Only look, Gwennor. I shall have to have it set in a pendant.”

      “’Tis pink quartz, I believe, Aunt Alice,” Gwen said.

      “I found it while we were traveling. Remolo showed me how to shape it,” Parry offered.

      “With an antique gold setting, it would complement this gown nicely, aunt,” Gwen inserted hastily. “Would you mind if Parry were to visit the stables? He misses his animals, and I promised I would let him see the horses.”

      Fortunately, Lady Alice’s intellect was neither exacting nor suspicious. “Whatever makes the dear boy happy,” she replied. “Indeed, perhaps you can assist my groom,” she said, turning to him. “One of the carriage horses picked up a stone in his hoof and may have bruised it. Your mama was so proud of your skill at healing.”

      Parry brightened. “May I go there now, Aunt Alice?”

      “Of course, dear boy.”

      After making her a proper bow, Parry eagerly exited the room. Gwen watched him walk out, fiercely glad she’d managed to spirit him away. If he’d been anxious after a mere morning cooped up in Lady Alice’s parlor, how could he have endured cousin Nigel’s incarceration?

      “I’m glad you had an errand for him, Gwennor. ’Twill give us a chance to chat privately of your future—and his. What is to become of him, now that Nigel rules Southford?”

      “Nigel intended to lock him up in the attic,” Gwen replied bluntly, not troubling to hide her indignation.

      At her aunt’s exclamation of horror, Gwen continued, “’Twas the main reason we left so hastily. I could have stomached Edgerton for husband if he meant to allow me to make a home for Parry, but cousin Nigel made it quite clear that the baron was as revolted by my brother as he is. I mean to keep Parry with me permanently, ma’am. Beyond that unconditional requirement, I am not at all particular about the attributes of my potential husband. A kind, decent man who will see Parry for his strengths and not find it embarrassing or uncomfortable to be around him is all I ask. Do…do you think I shall be able to find such a man?”

      “I don’t see why not. The dear boy appears perfectly normal to me. Indeed, if Nigel could be induced to agree to it, do you not think Parry could live on a small estate of his own?”

      “’Tis a bit…complicated,” Gwen returned, frowning. “At times his intellect seems not at all affected by his accident. But it’s as if the blow from that stallion’s hoof severed the link in his mind from the present to the past or future. You cannot tell him in the morning to do something at noon, for by noon he will not remember the request, nor can he envision what he needs to do tomorrow. He seems instinctively able to perform quite complicated tasks, but if he’s given a list of duties to accomplish or a long series of sums to add, he will lose track of them in the middle, which upsets him dreadfully.”

      Lady Alice shrugged. “Computing a long series of sums has the same effect on me.”

      “You can see how difficult it would be for him to manage a household, however, and he is so innocent of evil, if a venal or crafty person should enter his employ, they might steal his last shilling or commit some dire mischief without his ever suspecting it. Occasionally he does realize something is…wrong with him, which upsets and alarms him, and requires the reassurance of someone he trusts to help him regain his equilibrium. Most importantly, I love him and I want him with me.”

      Lady Alice patted her hand. “Such a good sister you’ve been to him, for all that you’re not really blood kin. Still, such a handsome young man, ’tis a shame he’ll never—but no sense repining.”

      “Nor are we blood kin. But will you help me anyway? You know how I’ve counted on your wisdom and counsel ever since stepmama died.”

      “Well, of course I shall! You’re a handsome, capable young woman, Gwennor, of excellent family. I have no doubt we can find you a suitable candidate—or several. My, to have beaux about the house again, coming to call and leaving bouquets and such! And the shopping…new gowns and pelisses and bonnets. Oh, ’twill be a delight! I shall begin a list of eligible gentlemen immediately.”

      “Thank you, Aunt Alice! I shall be forever indebted.”

      “Nonsense, child,” Lady Alice replied. “’Tis I who am indebted to you for rescuing me from my ennui.”

      After making some discreet inquiries of the staff which confirmed her suspicions about the state of Lady Alice’s finances, Gwen resolved to be as slight a burden on her aunt’s household as possible. Therefore, after adamantly refusing to have her aunt purchase her a new wardrobe, she was forced to expend far too much of her slender resources in acquiring the minimum number of garments her aunt considered necessary for a lady about to make her bow in Harrogate society.

      She had to admit, though, as a week later she exited their carriage and strolled on her aunt’s arm toward the Pump Room, that facing the world in a stylish new gown of black silk, her hair artfully gathered in a topknot of curls fashioned by Lady Alice’s deft-fingered maid Tilly, certainly gave one a welcome dose of confidence.

      “Colonel Haversham should already be within,” Lady Alice confided. “I’ve asked him—quite discreetly of course!—to gather about him any of those gentlemen whom we’ve discussed. Such as his friend Colonel Howard…” She paused and looked over at Gwen.

      “A fine army man who returned here from India to recover his shattered health—a widower of about forty possessed of a comfortable income,” Gwen recited her aunt’s coaching. “Likes dogs and billiards.”

      “Very good,” Lady Alice nodded. “And Lord Sandstone…”

      “Also a widower, tall, thin, suffers from gout but preserves great sweetness of manner despite his pain. Enjoys angling and gardening.”

      “Mr. Phillips…”

      “Youngest son of an earl, a bit vain of his looks and lineage but quite affable; maintains a fine house in town between visits to his father’s nearby estates.”

      “And still in his thirties!” Lady Alice prompted.

      “Mustn’t omit that important fact.” Chuckling at the thought of the youngest of her prospects being nearly ten years her senior, Gwen looked back at Lady Alice, who was following her through the doorway—and was knocked nearly off her feet by a man who briskly shoved open the door they’d been about to enter.

      She stumbled sideways, her arms flailing as she attempted to avoid the embarrassment of tumbling face-forward onto the flagstones in front of the Pump Room’s main entrance.

      “Gwen! Are you all right?”

      Before she could reply to her aunt’s cry, a pair of strong hands grabbed her from behind and steadied her. “Pray forgive me, ma’am!” said a deep, contrite masculine voice. “I trust you’ve suffered no harm?”

      “I—I am quite unharmed, thank you, sir,” she said, turning to face the gentleman, who, after insuring she’d recovered her balance, released her shoulders.

      She looked up into a pair of clear green eyes set in a face attractive enough to make even her skeptical heart skip a beat. Firm masculine lips curved into a smile as he brushed a lock of blond hair off his brow, revealing a charming set of dimples.

      “Thank heavens for that! I was opening the door for grandpapa’s chair and did not pay sufficient attention to who might be approaching. Indeed, let me escort you in before some other ignorant oaf assaults you.”

      He made them a bow. “Lady Alice Winnerly,