A Matter of Honor

By Gabi Anderson

Lady Lorane St. John has a gift and passion for botany. However, she is also a failure in the eyes of the ton, so when the chance comes to escape the season and stow away to America, she seizes it. Not only can she study a whole new world of plants, she also plans to produce a book.

Nicholas Grant has planned a neat and tidy life for himself. He has a position of stature and a fiancée waiting at home. What he doesn’t need is an impulsive bluestocking bringing chaos into his life. When circumstances require he take responsibility for her, he finds himself drawn into the whirlwind of Lorane’s personality. And enjoying it.

But there’s still the matter of his fiancée. Is love the price of honor?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gabi Anderson
• Release date: Sep 15, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370056828

Gabi Anderson

Gabi Anderson was born in SoCal to Hungarian parents. After spending time in boarding school, college, grad school, and studying abroad, she spent seven years in the classroom trying to teach eighth graders the joys of literature. An award winning author, Gabi writes in New Mexico where she lives with her robotics engineer husband, three daughters, and two dogs. She loves to play games (She’s appeared on Family Feud and Jeopardy!), has a wicked addiction to reading, forgets her age on the volleyball court, avoids housework and cooking whenever possible, and doesn’t travel nearly as much as she would like to

Book preview

Dedication:

To Korinna, Alessandra, and Stefanie:

Never forget your dreams

Prologue

England, 1830

Lady Lorane St. John eyed the dressmaker with wariness as the woman came closer. Pins protruded from the dressmaker's mouth, giving her the appearance of some unnamed monster. Lorane closed her eyes and tried not to flinch as the woman removed a single pin from between her lips and jabbed it toward Lorane.

Ow! Lorane cried.

"Oh, pardon, Mademoiselle." At least that’s what Lorane understood through the pinched lips. The dressmaker removed the offending pin and stuck it through the material again.

Vanessa St. John, Dowager Countess of Ryeburn, clicked her tongue. Honestly, Lorane, if you wouldn’t fidget so, Madame Fleur wouldn’t stick you. You’d think this was your first fitting.

Sorry, Mother. Lorane stepped back to the middle of the platform. She looked for support to her sister-in-law, Eden St. John, only to find the present countess's shoulders shaking in silent laughter. Lorane sent her a chiding glare.

Vanessa plucked Lorane’s discarded dress from the floor, and held it between thumb and forefinger. Her nose wrinkled and her lips curled in disgust. What do you do to your dresses, Lorane? Is this mud on the skirt? And what are these green stains?

I was in the garden, Mother.

Vanessa dropped the gown. You should spend less time engaging in your strange hobby and more time worrying about the season.

Lorane didn’t respond. Indeed, she didn’t dare breathe, for the dressmaker was pinning the bodice of the new gown.

Zere. Now I must sew. Madame Fleur reached to remove the unfinished garment showing no regard for the many pins that poked through the material.

I’ll do it, Lorane yelped. She started to pull the yards of yellow material with great care from her shoulders.

"Non, non. Not like zat. The dressmaker turned to Vanessa. I cannot create my beautiful gown if she is allowed to strangle eet."

Let Madame Fleur remove the gown before you ruin it.

Lorane bit back the retort that rose to her lips. She knew better than to argue with her mother.

The seamstress removed the gown and waited for Lorane to step out of the folds of material. She sniffed in triumph as she gathered the dress in her arms and took it out of the room.

Do you know how much trouble I had convincing Madame Fleur to come here to make our dresses? I should think you could be more gracious to her, Lorane, Vanessa said.

Clad in her chemise and corset, Lorane stepped from the platform. I know you value her talents, but I am not convinced she knows what she's doing.

How can you say that?

The gown is yellow. Lorane retrieved her dress from the floor.

I chose that color myself, and I’ll have you know yellow happens to be at the height of fashion.

But, Mother, I have red hair. Yellow makes my skin look orange. Loosening the strings of her corset, Lorane removed the offensive garment.

What are you doing?

I can’t work in a corset, Mother. Lorane lifted her dress over her head.

Good heavens. You aren’t going to put that thing on again, are you? Vanessa looked horrified.

Lorane poked her arms through the sleeves. I’m not finished with my work yet, and it would be a shame to soil a clean dress. She reached into her pocket. As she pulled out her spectacles, a pair of dirt-covered gloves fell to the floor.

Vanessa clicked her tongue. And you’ve ruined another pair of gloves.

Lorane picked them up and tucked them back into her pocket. They are inexpensive, Mother. I order them by the dozens. Every good botanist knows one should never touch plants without protection. Besides, they do protect my hands from the dirt. She showed her hands to her mother for inspection.

I suppose I should be thankful your hands don’t look like some field laborer’s. Vanessa moved her gaze over her daughter. And now the transformation is complete. From princess back to toad. Honestly Lorane, I don’t understand you at all. This is your third season, and you’ve still no prospects.

Lorane said nothing. She had heard her mother’s words so many times in the past they were beyond hurting her.

Her sister-in-law stepped from the corner. Vanessa, why don’t you go see if Madame Fleur requires anything? I’ll fasten Lorane’s dress. Eden led Vanessa to the door before the woman could say anything else.

Lorane closed her eyes. Her mother’s words didn’t hurt her, but the thought that her mother might be right, did.

I know she’s your mother, Lorane, but I want to strangle that woman more times than I care to think about. Eden’s hands worked the hooks at the back of the dress.

You don’t have to tell me. Lorane looked down at her dress. Mud splattered the front of the simple brown skirt, and bits of leaves and twigs decorated the bodice. Pushing her spectacles higher onto her nose, she looked at her beautiful sister-in-law. She's right, you know.

She most certainly is not. And I won’t hear you saying such things again.

I’m not fooling myself, Eden. I know I’m not a beauty, and my hobby, as my mother calls it, is a little strange for a woman.

I don’t hear her complain when she has fresh orchids in the middle of winter.

Lorane laughed. No, she doesn't, does she? Her laughter died. Sometimes I wonder if a man exists who would want a wife like me, but for the most part, I’m quite happy working with my plants. I plan to write a book someday, and illustrate it with my drawings as John James Audubon did his. Do you think that’s foolish?

No, not in the least. I’ve told you before, you have a real talent, and you should cherish that talent. Eden paused. She reached into her pocket and pulled something out. Gazing at her closed fist, Eden continued. You are beautiful, Lorane. I’m surprised no one has noticed it yet, but I imagine you’ll have to wait for an extraordinary man.

Or until my mother stops choosing my clothes, Lorane said in a low grumble.

Eden laughed. Yes, there is that. Until then, I wish to give you something. She opened her fist. In her palm lay a silver coin.

What is that?

A sort of good luck charm. My mother gave it to me, and I’d like to give it to you. Eden placed the coin in Lorane’s hand.

I don’t believe in luck. There is no scientific proof that luck exists.

Think of it more as a token of my friendship to you. Whenever you look upon it, you’ll know that here at Concordia are people who love you and will always love you.

Lorane examined the coin. Venus graced one side holding her mirror. On the reverse, a swan glided in a tarnished pond. The words numquam tuas spes dedisce encircled the bird. Never forget your dreams. I like the sentiment.

It is rather nice, isn’t it? Remind me to tell you of the time I lost it and Trevor found it.

I’d love to hear about it, but not now. I was in the middle of repotting the ferns when Mother interrupted me.

The story can wait. Go on then.

Lorane pocketed the coin and darted from the room.

Eden sighed. You have no idea what's in store for you, Lorane, Eden whispered to the air.

Chapter One

London, two weeks later

Nicholas Grant tilted his glass to his mouth as he looked across the crowded ballroom. The brandy was excellent; he’d admit that much. His gaze traveled over the crowd. So this was the aristocracy. They didn’t look much different from the men and women at home, except they dressed in fancier clothes. He chuckled to himself. Isabelle wouldn’t like that thought.

A young man’s voice interrupted his musings. Look, she’s at it again.

His companion laughed. You’d think she’d have learned how to behave by now. How many seasons had she had? Five?

Nicholas looked around to spot the object of the young men’s derision. Red hair filled his vision. Lady Lorane. She was yelling at a man, her finger wagging in his face. Nicholas searched his memory. The Duke of Shrevesburough, poor man.

The yellow dress she wore gave her skin an unnatural hue, and her gloves had rumpled to her wrists. Her hair was as unruly as her appearance. The thick red tresses were pulled back in a decidedly unfashionable chignon. Numerous curls protested their confinement by escaping their bonds and falling into the girl’s face.

With a sigh, Nicholas put down his brandy and crossed to Lady Lorane. His sister, Eden, had better appreciate the things he did for her.

Lorane’s finger never left the duke’s face. And furthermore—

Nicholas stepped between the pair, causing Lorane to step back. He bowed. Pardon me, Your Grace, but Lady Lorane promised me this dance. I hope you don’t mind the interruption.

Most assuredly not, the duke said. His voice echoed the relief in his expression. By all means, claim your dance.

With another bow, Nicholas led Lady Lorane to the parquet. He hadn’t realized how much smaller than he she stood. He held out his arms and waited.

Why did you do that? Miss St. John glared up at him, her green eyes flashing in annoyance.

Shall we dance? The other guests are beginning to stare.

Lorane glanced around as if realizing for the first time where she stood. Her eyes widened, and she stepped into his arms. They whirled away in a waltz.

Now will you tell me why you did that?

Nicholas shrugged his shoulders. The poor man looked like he needed rescuing.

It wasn’t he who needed rescuing. It was Lady Stonehope’s plants. Her anger blossomed on her cheeks.

All that for a plant? I still thought it best to save the duke. No doubt your brother would agree with me.

Perhaps, but your sister would agree with me.

She is the last one whom you should emulate. I could tell you tale after tale about her behavior.

"I wouldn’t listen. Eden is a refreshing change from the rest of the ton."

The music ended, and Nicholas bowed to her. She seemed as startled that the dance had ended as when the dance had started. Good evening, Lady Lorane. I shan’t hinder your crusades again.

Lorane lifted her nose and gave a delicate sniff of indignation. Good evening, Captain Grant. I shall see you tomorrow.

Tomorrow?

When Eden brings the children to tour your ship.

You’re accompanying them?

Yes. Unless you’d prefer I didn’t.

No, please. I shall enjoy showing you my ship. He hoped his voice held the proper amount of enthusiasm. He bowed to her. Until tomorrow.

Good evening, Captain Grant. Lady Lorane turned on her heels and fled the dance floor.

Nicholas shook his head. He was glad his stay in England ended in a few days. He had had enough of headstrong women, growing up with his twin sister as he had. Of course Lady Lorane seemed more distracted than headstrong. Nicholas had the impression she wasn’t aware of where she was most of the time.

He returned to his brandy. Although he would miss his sister, he was eager to return home. Soon he would see Isabelle again. Taking a swallow of the brandy, he resumed his observation of the ball. His betrothed would want to hear about the aristocracy and what they wore, so that she could set the fashion of the season. Isabelle’s sense of style was one of the reasons the girls of Boston imitated her. The thought soothed him. Isabelle’s regal beauty would douse the image of fiery red hair that still flashed in his memory.

*** *** ***

Lorane St. John ran her fingertip over the colorful illustration. Beautiful. Her finger touched the feathers of the bird with reverence. John James Audubon had produced an amazing book. Stifling a yawn, Lorane held the corner of the page between her fingers. She knew she should retire for the night, but the book had lured her to the library after the ball. Just a few more pages, and then she would go to bed.

Lifting the corner of the paper with care, Lorane flipped to the next page.

Lorane.

The bark startled her. Lorane jumped, her fingers still grasping the corner of the page. As she heard a rip near the binding, she winced. She shut her eyes at the dismay that ran through her.

With clipped steps, Vanessa marched to her daughter. Tell me you didn’t do it.

Do what, Mother?

Tell me you didn’t tell the Duke of Shrevesburough that he was an inconsiderate lout.

I also called him a fool too deep in his cups to have any regard for manners.

Vanessa gasped. How could you?

The man dumped his drink into Lady Stonehope’s palm.

Is that all?

"I’m sure Lady Stonehope wouldn’t appreciate her Howea forsterana dying."

It’s just a plant, Lorane.

Her husband brought it back for her from the South Pacific. I have helped her start seedlings from the original.

Then she has more than one. There is no excuse for what you did. How do expect to find a husband if you chase away all eligible men?

The duke?

Yes, of course, the duke. He is wealthy and unmarried. Now, he will never look at you.

Thank heaven, Lorane muttered under her breath.

It isn’t as if you’ve had many choices. You and that stupid hobby of yours. You grow more eccentric every day. People are beginning to talk.

Mother, I—

And why are you wearing your spectacles? I have strictly forbidden you to use them in London.

Lorane pushed her glasses higher onto the bridge of her nose. I see better with them.

You can see fine without them. Give them to me. Vanessa held out her hand. No man will find you attractive if you hide behind those spectacles.

Lorane took the lenses from her nose and passed them to her mother.

That’s much better. Tomorrow we shall do something with those ridiculous curls of yours.

If they were any shorter, I couldn’t pull them out of my face. I can’t work if my hair is in my eyes.

You promised you wouldn’t engage in your filthy hobby in London, so you needn’t concern yourself about pulling your hair back. Tomorrow we see about a haircut. What were you reading? Vanessa leaned over the book and snorted in disgust. She flipped the book shut. If you must read, try poetry or something that will make you sound well versed. You can’t quote pictures. Go to bed. It won’t do to have dark circles under your eyes, either.

In a minute, Mother.

We have to make the best out of a bad situation, Lorane. This is your last chance to find a husband. You can’t remain a spinster. I couldn’t bear the pity of my friends. Vanessa turned from her daughter and left the room.

Lorane dropped her head to the table and sighed. She sat motionless for a few seconds, then pulled herself upright. Reaching into her pocket, she removed another pair of spectacles and placed them on her nose. She opened the book again and let the magic of the illustrations soothe her.

She hated the season, and she didn’t fool herself into believing any man would be interested in her for herself. Someone might marry her in hopes of currying favor with her brother, the Earl of Ryeburn, but she didn’t want to wed for the sake of convenience. Her brother’s marriage had shown her how rich a love match could be, and secretly she dreamed she would someday find a man who would respect her work and love her for herself. In any case, she couldn’t imagine marrying for less. She’d rather spend her life as a spinster.

A glimmer of an idea flitted through her mind, but she dismissed it. Escape the season? No, it wasn’t possible. Her mother wouldn’t allow her. With a resigned sigh, Lorane closed Audubon’s book and left the room. She would have to suffer through this season, and then she’d never have to come to London again. The ton would label her a failure, and she could spend her time at her brother’s estate. Perhaps someday she could even ask her brother to send her to America to study plants there, maybe even produce a book.

When she reached her room, Lorane placed the candle on her bedside table. A coin glinted from the tabletop. Lorane picked up the talisman. Numquam tuas spes dedisce. Never forget your dreams.

Lorane blew out the flame as she replaced the coin on the table. She didn’t need the motto on a good luck piece mocking her tonight.

*** *** ***

Nicholas Grant looked across the deck of his ship at his sister and grinned.

Huntley St. John, you get down here this minute. Eden St. John glared up into the riggings where her nine-year-old son clambered ever higher.

I can get him down, Mother, the seven year old beside her offered. The look of hope on his face caused Nicholas to chuckle.

Nicholas crossed the deck and swung himself into the ropes. I’m sure your mother appreciates your help, Kelvin, but why don’t you let me go instead? Before anyone could respond, Nicholas climbed after his nephew with the ease of a man long used to such action.

He reached Huntley in short time. Nicholas suppressed his smile as a look of relief spread across the boy’s face. Huntley clung to the ropes with a grip that would strangle the strongest man.

I think you’ve frightened your mother enough for one day, Huntley.

But Uncle Nick, I could have climbed higher. I wanted to go all the way to the top.

Nicholas knew the words held mere bravado, for the relief hadn’t left the boy’s face. I know, Hunt, but your father told me to watch after your mother today, and he’d get mad if I let her worry about you.

Very well, I’ll come down. Huntley didn’t move.

Nicholas moved behind the boy, until his body covered the child’s. If you don’t mind, we’ll climb down together. Your mother’s watching, and she’ll feel better if she thinks I’m helping you.

Excellent idea, Uncle Nick. I don’t really need help, you know.

I know. Since Huntley couldn’t see his face, Nicholas let his grin appear.

Moving together, Nicholas guided the boy down the ropes. Although Huntley never slipped, the care the boy gave each motion revealed his anxiety. At last they reached the deck.

Eden rushed forward to hug her son. She pulled the boy to her, and then she pushed him away and held him at arms’ length. Don’t you ever do something like that again.

Mo-ther. Huntley shuffled his feet.

I mean it, Huntley.

Huntley mumbled under his breath.

And, no, you will not run away to sea with your uncle.

Huntley’s gaze shot to his mother’s in surprise.

Bouncing in excitement, Kelvin asked, What was the view like, Hunt? Did you see all of London?

Never mind that, said Eden. Find your sister and your Aunt Lorane. We have to go.

The two boys dashed off toward the lower decks.

Nicholas laughed at their exuberance. Quite the handful, eh, sis?

Eden sighed. They can be, but I love them just the same.

Now you know what Dad and I went through trying to control your behavior.

Nicholas Grant, what a terrible thing to say. Eden scowled at her brother. Then she laughed. Even if it is the truth. Shall I see you again before you sail?

Yes. I’ll stop by to say good-bye. Nicholas hugged his sister. You live too far away, Eden.

You could always settle here. We’ll find you a nice English girl . . .

I doubt Isabelle would like that. Nicholas looked past her to see his two nephews and his niece staring at him.

Who is Isabelle? Kelvin asked.

The woman I’m to marry in a few months, Nicholas said.

I’m never getting married. I think girls are disgusting, Huntley said.

The youngest child pursed her lips. I am not disgusting.

Yes, you are, Miranda, Kelvin said.

Mother. Tears welled in Miranda’s eyes and the pitch of her voice threatened to turn into a wail.

Boys, I trust you don’t find me disgusting. Motherly amusement filled Eden’s voice.

No, Mother, the boys chorused.

And yet I am a girl. We shall change the subject. Where is Lorane?

As if she heard her name, the woman appeared. She dusted off the front of her skirt and frowned at a spot that seemed to have appeared there. Nicholas shook his head. In the little time he had spent with her, he had never seen Eden’s sister-in-law keep her clothes neat.

As Lorane pushed her spectacles up her nose, she left a smudge on the bridge of her nose. Lorane looked up at him. Captain, a word, please.

Nicholas gave her a quick bow. How may I help you, Lady Lorane?

The tea you are carrying. Were you aware of its poor quality?

Lady Lorane, the merchant who sold me the cargo ensured me it is the highest quality—

Pardon me, but he is mistaken. Although the crates are marked pekoe, the leaves are entirely too large.

With all due respect, Lady Lorane—

Eden tapped his shoulder. I would listen to her, Nicholas. She knows more about plants than you could ever hope to learn.

Nicholas narrowed his gaze at his sister, then cast a doubtful look at Lorane. Behind the spectacles, her green eyes glittered, but her expression gave no hint to her thoughts. He was supposed to trust the pronouncement of this girl? I shall have someone inspect the tea.

Lorane shrugged her shoulders as if it didn’t matter to her in the least. She turned to the children. Swinging Miranda into her arms, she nuzzled the child’s hair. Did you enjoy your outing, Mirry?

Nicholas almost didn’t believe the transformation. The serious set to her features disappeared. Her cheeks suddenly bloomed with color, and her lips curved into a delicious smile.

Oh yes, Aunt Lorane. It was lovely. The child giggled as Lorane