Honoria, on the other hand, saw season three looming ahead, and her mother’s interest in seeing her well-settled was tepid at best. It wasn’t that she didn’t want Honoria to marry; rather, she just couldn’t bring herself to care overmuch.
She hadn’t cared overmuch about anything after Daniel had left the country.
So if Mrs. Royle ran about cooking extra sweets and forcing her daughter to change gowns based upon something she might have overheard about someone’s favorite color, she was doing it out of love, and Honoria could never fault her for that.
“You’re a dear to help me with the preparations,” Mrs. Royle said, giving Honoria a pat on the arm. “All tasks are made easier with an extra pair of hands, that is what my mother always told me.”
Honoria rather thought she was providing an extra set of ears, not hands, but she murmured her thanks nonetheless and followed Mrs. Royle to the garden, where she wished to supervise the picnic arrangements.
“I think Mr. Bridgerton has been looking rather keenly at my Cecily,” Mrs. Royle said, stepping out into the not-quite-sunshine. “Don’t you?”
“I had not noticed,” Honoria said. She hadn’t noticed, but drat it all, had he?
“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Royle said, quite definitively, “at supper last night. He was smiling most broadly.”
Honoria cleared her throat. “He’s a rather smiling sort of gentleman.”
“Yes, but he was smiling differently.”
“I suppose.” Honoria squinted up at the sky. Clouds were rolling in. It didn’t quite look like rain, though.
“Yes, I know,” Mrs. Royle said, following Honoria’s gaze and misinterpreting the reason for it. “It is not quite as sunny as it was this morning. I do hope the weather holds for the picnic.”
And for at least two hours thereafter, Honoria hoped. She had plans. Plans which—she looked about; they were in the garden, after all—required a shovel.
“It will be such a tragedy if we have to move indoors,” Mrs. Royle continued. “One could hardly call it a picnic in such a case.”
Honoria nodded absently, still analyzing the clouds. There was one that was a bit more gray than the rest, but was it drifting toward or away?
“Well, I suppose there is nothing I can do but wait and see,” Mrs. Royle said. “And no true harm done. A gentleman is just as likely to fall in love indoors as out, and if Mr. Bridgerton does have his eye on Cecily, at least she will be able to impress him at the pianoforte.”
“Sarah is quite accomplished as well,” Honoria remarked.
Mrs. Royle actually stopped and turned. “She is?”
Honoria wasn’t surprised that Mrs. Royle sounded surprised. She knew for a fact that she had attended last year’s musicale.
“We probably won’t be inside, anyway,” Mrs. Royle went on before Honoria could comment further. “The sky doesn’t look so terribly ominous. Hmmph. I suppose I must admit that I had been hoping Mr. Bridgerton might take an interest in Cecily—oh, I do hope that maid catches her in time to get out the blue dress; she’ll be cross if she has to change—but of course Lord Chatteris would be even more exciting.”
Alarmed, Honoria spun back around to face her. “But he’s not coming.”
“No, of course not, but he is our neighbor. And as Cecily said the other day, this means that he will dance with her in London, and one must seize one’s opportunities where one can.”
“Yes, of course, but—”
“He does not bestow his favor on many young ladies,” Mrs. Royle said proudly. “You, I suppose, due to your prior connection, and maybe one or two others. It will make it easier for her to capture his attention. This way, Lady Honoria,” she said, motioning toward a row of flower arrangements on a nearby table. “And besides,” she added, “our property is like a little bite out of his. Surely, he’ll want it.”
Honoria cleared her throat, not at all certain how to respond.
“Not that we could give it all to him,” Mrs. Royle continued. “None of it is entailed, but I couldn’t possibly slight Georgie that way.”
“Georgie?”
“My eldest son.” She turned to Honoria with an assessing eye, then waved her hand through the air. “No, you’re too old for him. Pity.”
Honoria decided there could not possibly be an appropriate reply to that.
“We could add a few acres to Cecily’s dowry, though,” Mrs. Royle said. “It would be worth it, to have a countess in the family.”