Honor by Lindsay Chase Read Free Book Online Page A

she were my daughter, I’d have married her off years ago. Her aunt gives her too much freedom. It’s not good for a woman to have too much freedom. Before you know it, she’ll start telling her husband what to do. Then she’ll want to vote. When will it stop?”
    Frame shook his head. “It’s her aunt’s fault for encouraging her. Theodate’s husband left her with too much money instead of putting it into a trust and letting me control it. She always was a wild one.”
    Saltonsall shifted in his chair and said nothing.
    Grant took a deep drag on his cigar and blew out a cloud of smoke. He regarded Robert superciliously. “Too bad you didn’t go to Harvard. Cutter and Bailey only invites Harvard men.”
    The right family, the right school. Robert’s resentment boiled, but he held it in check. “Harvard is too rich for my blood.”
    Frame nodded in approval. “So you’re a self-made man then, eh?”
    Perceiving an advantage, Robert pressed it home. “Yes, sir. I left the family farm without a penny to my name sixteen years ago and worked my way up to foreman at a textile mill in Lowell. After my parents died, I sold the farm to a lumber company at a tidy profit and paid my way through college and law school.”
    Freddie said, “Ambitious.” He stubbed out his cigar. “Honor Elliott would be the perfect wife for an ambitious man—if you could get her to give up her fool notion about becoming a lawyer.”
    “And if you could curb her sharp tongue,” Grant added, blowing smoke into the air. “A woman shouldn’t say what’s on her mind.”
    Frame nodded. “The world judges a man by the woman he chooses to marry. A beautiful woman can do wonders for a man’s career, especially if she’s well connected, like Honor.”
    Robert sensed the deep, rapid undercurrents, but he couldn’t read them successfully, so he didn’t risk responding. Finally he said, “Honor and I are just friends. There’s been no talk of marriage.” Yet.
    “You could do worse,” Saltonsall said, emptying the last of the port and staring moodily into space, his mind obviously elsewhere.
    Conversation dwindled and died with the last of the cigars. Their host hoisted himself out of his chair, cleared his throat, and announced that it was time to rejoin the ladies.
    Later, after coffee had been served and consumed, Honor and Robert were the first to leave.
    As they put on their wraps in the foyer, Honor turned to Robert with an apologetic smile. “I seem to have left my purse in the parlor. Will you get it for me?”
    He nodded and returned to the parlor. He was just about to walk in when he heard Freddie Horsley say quite distinctly and contemptuously, “That Davis fellow is obviously a climber.”
    Robert froze. He hadn’t fooled anybody. Honor’s wealthy, influential friends had recognized him for what he was, a social climber.
    He said loudly over his shoulder, “I think it’s in here,” more to save himself embarrassment than to spare the men when he walked back into their midst unexpectedly. Only Saltonsall had the grace to look ashamed, but the rest hid their hypocrisy behind innocent looks and bland social smiles.
    “Has anyone seen Honor’s purse?” he asked.
    Saltonsall held up what looked like the missing item. “Is this it?”
    Robert nodded, took the purse, and bade them all a good night when he really wished them all in hell.
     
     
    Something was definitely troubling Robert.
    Seated across from him in the brougham, Honor observed the line of anger between his brows and the uncharacteristic tightness about his mouth. There was no hint of pleasure or satisfaction in the depths of his green eyes, none of the warm afterglow of conviviality one usually experienced after a successful social affair. And he hadn’t said a word to her since handing her into the carriage. Not one word.
    “Did you enjoy yourself’?” she asked.
    He nodded without looking at her. “Did you?”
    She shifted in her seat, causing her