Chapter Thirty-Four

Honoria had the perfect plan. And if Oscar thought he was going to see to Ladrón himself, then he was an idiot.

Before she left Dunnelocke Abbey later that morning, she found Cardew at the main stairway, running an oiled cloth over the

newly exposed mahogany railing. Though they hadn't been formally introduced, she'd seen him from a distance several times.

"Mr. Cardew? I'm Honoria Hartley."

"Ignatius Cardew, at your service." With those words, he smoothly swept up her hand and bowed over it, pressing a kiss to

her fingers. "I must say, you quite steal my breath and my heart. Please, do me the honor of calling me Ignatius. Or simply

whisper it once, and I will dream of it for the rest of my days."

She couldn't help but smile. "You are an unrepentant charmer, Ignatius."

He closed his eyes and laid a hand over his chest. "Like angelsong. Well, then, how may I be of service?"

"If you have a moment, I should like to speak with you privately," she said, gesturing to the receiving room. Knowing that

Oscar was seeing to a matter of business, she knew she only had a few minutes. So the instant Cardew stepped into the room

with her, she didn't hesitate. "I want to know more about this Ladrón. It's just that I don't want Oscar to spend the rest

of his life looking over his shoulder."

Cardew studied her with the acute attention of a clerk weighing coins on a scale. Then, as if coming to a decision, he offered a nod. "I don't want that for him either. Especially since it was my own fault that put him in this mess. Ladrón never would have set his sights on the lad if not for me. And I should have known better, but it's my nature to lose all sense when it comes to women. Just as it has always been Oscar's nature to look after everyone and make it right again." He issued a self-deprecating sigh. "That night was no different. There was a debt to be paid, and he swept in and took care of it."

Her brow furrowed in confusion. "But he lost that night."

"At the Count du Maurice's palace, aye. But then he went to a gaming hell, and much to my regret, Ladrón was there. He observed

the lad play, fascinated by his uncanny skill, and decided that paying the original debt wasn't enough."

"I have the money to pay him," she said, feeling a sense of rightness course through her. "I just need a way to get it into

his hands. To settle the debt once and for all."

Cardew shook his head. "You don't understand, my lovely. Ladrón is a collector of things and people. He wants Oscar to be his latest objet d'art."

Well, if anyone could understand what it was like to be treated as an object, it was Honoria. And if this collector wanted

someone to gamble and make money for him, then she would put a stop to it.

"So you're telling me that Ladrón refused to take the payment as per your agreement." When Cardew offered something of a nod,

she continued, "Then, all we have to do is ensure that he does so in front of witnesses, giving him no grounds to claim the

debt wasn't paid. And I have the perfect plan. That is, if you are amenable."

He studied her again, his keen gaze turning thoughtful, his forefingers sliding against the pad of his thumb as if he were

rolling an imaginary cigar. "And this exchange you have in mind would be on English soil, I presume."

"Yes, of course. Right here in Addlewick," she said. "But the thing is... we would have to keep it a secret from Oscar."

She proceeded to give him a brief synopsis of her plan.

He turned away, stepping over to the window. "The one time I agreed to such a bargain, my boy was taken to prison for a year.

I couldn't let that happen again."

"Prison?" A shock tore through her.

And yet, she'd suspected something dark lurked in Oscar's past that he still didn't want to talk about. She'd felt it in the

way he'd stiffened when her fingers encountered the scars on his back.

"Aye," Cardew answered, gazing through the panes of glass. "Her name was Josephine. The lad was sweet on her. But one day,

I caught her in the company of an aristocrat who bore a grudge against Oscar, ever since losing to him at the gaming tables.

Before I could tell Oscar about it, she caught up with me and tearfully explained that she'd fallen into the gentleman's debt

and was forced to pay it with her body for one night. She begged me not to say anything. Promised that she loved Oscar and

couldn't bear the thought of her mistake bringing him pain." He lifted his hands in a shrug. "So I kept her secret."

A hot flood of anger burned in Honoria's stomach, already surmising the rest. "But she was lying."

Cardew nodded. "The man was her protector. He wanted Oscar out of the way. And she, lured by the polish of his pedigree, had

willingly colluded with him. Together, they made up a fable regarding a debt that Oscar had refused to repay. The courts sided

with the aristocrat and sent Oscar to debtor's prison. When he was released, he barely had the chance to bid farewell to his

dying mother."

Burning tears pricked Honoria's eyes. She swiped them away, before laying a hand on Cardew's sleeve. "I promise, on the memory

of my brother, that what I'm about to ask of you is to keep Oscar from harm, not put him in the path of it."

"I'm not agreeing to anything until I've heard every detail."

By the time Honoria finished explaining the plan that she and Thea had concocted, she had Cardew's support. Mostly.

Tilting his head to the side in appraisal, he added, "I want something in return."

"What?"

"I want to paint you."

She'd been asked this before, countless times, but had never sat for anyone other than the family's portrait artist. The last

thing she wanted was to be hung on someone's wall and gawked at for all eternity. And yet, this man loved Oscar and was willing

to agree to her scheme for such a small price.

So she nodded. "Very well. If you assist me in this matter, without informing Oscar, I will let you paint me."

They shook hands. Or rather, he kissed her proffered hand, and their bargain was struck.

A minute later, she was waiting in the hall when Oscar appeared, his eyes glowing with warmth as he strode directly to her.

And she was plagued with a terrible desire to stay.

She shrugged it away and smiled at him.

He instantly narrowed his gambler's eyes. "You look like a cat who's gotten into the cream. Just what are you up to?"

"I don't know what you could possibly mean," she said, sliding her arm through his and turning toward the door where Algernon

waited. And she thought she'd put on a rather convincing performance because he said nothing in response to that.

The instant they were inside the carriage, however, he turned to her, their knees bumping, his expression stern. "I've taken

care of the matter regarding Ladrón. Promise me you won't be interfering."

It vexed her to no end that he could see through her pretense of innocence. With an aggrieved sigh, she nodded. And in order to keep him from seeing that her fingers were crossed behind her back, she kissed him.

***

The moment she crossed the threshold of Hartley Hall and Oscar's carriage drove away, she turned to Mr. Mosely. "Has the rehearsal

begun?"

"Already in progress, miss," he said with a stoic smile. "You'll find them in the pit."

"Splendid."

A few minutes later, Honoria stepped out onto the terrace and watched the proceedings.

Because it would have been impossible to keep a plan of this magnitude a secret from her parents, she'd told them the whole

of it.

Well, mostly .

After all, she couldn't have told them everything without revealing her own part of how this all had begun in Paris.

When Mother and Father had visited her yesterday at the abbey, shortly after she'd talked to Thea, Honoria had explained that,

during his travels, Oscar had dealings with a certain art collector, one who was left... unsatisfied with their previous

dealings.

"This collector," she'd told them, "wants reparations that are far above and beyond their original agreement." To put it mildly.

"Therefore, Thea and I have come up with a way to ensure that the matter is settled once and for all."

She'd laid out the details using a three-act structure, knowing that parents like Roxana and Conchobar Hartley would appreciate

how it tied together in the form of a play.

"I say it's a grand plan," her father said with a decisive nod. "That boy has had a lifetime of dealing with things on his

own. It's time that he had someone intervene on his behalf."

"Precisely."

"He's family, after all."

Honoria hadn't bothered to correct them. She'd wanted to, but for a woman who was excellent at delivering a line, she hadn't

been able to think of a single thing to say.

The only thought in her head had been that Oscar would be leaving. One day. His charade wouldn't be able to last forever.

But when that time came, she would ensure that he wouldn't have to look over his shoulder for the rest of his life.

"He most definitely is," Mother had agreed before issuing a fretful sigh. "And when I think of Oscar losing his father at

such a young age, and what Marina must have endured in his absence without having anyone to turn to, it fairly breaks my heart."

Father had put an arm around his wife and pressed a kiss to her temple. "Which is why we'll do all we can."

Seeing the way Mother turned to him and rested her head on his shoulder made Honoria grateful to have such parents. She'd

always drawn comfort from their easy affection. And while she hadn't always admired—and perhaps even resented—their acceptance

of whatever the Fates brought, she saw it as one of their strengths.

Which was the reason she couldn't keep the possibility of the more dangerous aspects of the plan to herself.

"There is one more thing," she'd hedged. "From what I understand, this collector fancies himself a swordsman."

"Ah. Well, then." Father had lifted a hand to pull at a frown like a man worrying his beard, and she was afraid that he would

call an end to it. Then he gave her a thoughtful look. "Our choreography would need to be spot-on, now, wouldn't it?"

Relieved, she beamed at him. "I have a plan for that as well."

"Thought you might, clever girl."