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didn’t want to embarrass you.”
    By the light of the carriage lamps, Honor’s expression clouded. “You wouldn’t have embarrassed me. I don’t judge people by what they wear.”
    “Most do.”
    “Then they’re fools.”
    Davis said, “If Pudding could see you now, he’d—” He stopped. “Never mind.”
    “What were you about to say?”
    “Nothing.”
    “Robert, don’t tease. Tell me.”
    “I was going to say that if Pudding could see you now, he’d rest his case against beautiful women lawyers in the courtroom. But I knew you’d be insulted.”
    Her eyes darkened. “I’m not insulted.”
    Tonight she was ravishing, a breathtaking study in black and white, with the rich satin sheen of her evening cloak and her own night-black hair shrouding her pale face in mystery. Only the green earbobs and her own red lips provided any color. Robert longed to kiss her, to feel those lips soften and part under the domination of his mouth.
    He took a deep breath, filling his nostrils with her sweet rose scent and settled back against the soft leather squabs. The kissing, and perhaps a little more this time if Honor was willing as he sensed her to be, would have to wait.
     
     
    When Honor and Robert arrived at the Grants’ brick house on Beacon Hill, a maid took their wraps and showed them to the parlor where all the guests were admiring the perfect Christmas tree, its thick evergreen branches filled to groaning with white tapers all ablaze, paper cones stuffed with sugar-plums for the children, shiny tinsel garlands, and an angel that nearly scraped its outstretched wings against the high ceiling.
    “We hauled it all the way from Lexington in a wagon,” Amos Grant said to Wesley Saltonsall in his loud, pompous voice. “A devil of a time with it, but couldn’t disappoint the boys.”
    Conversation ceased the moment Honor and Robert appeared in the doorway. Penelope, a diminutive blonde, rose from the velvet sofa where she had been talking to a woman Honor recognized as the wife of Aunt Theo’s banker.
    “Honor,” Penelope said, extending her hands as she glided toward them, “how delighted we are that you could come. It’s been such a long time.” She touched cheeks and looked at Robert expectantly.
    “Penelope Grant, this is Robert Davis, a fellow law student.”
    Penelope smiled archly. “And such a distinguished one.”
    Robert returned the smile and bowed over her hand. “It’s a pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Grant.”
    “Do come over and meet everyone else.” She ushered them into the warm, cozy room, where logs crackled and burned in the fireplace, scenting the air with appropriately festive woodsmoke.
    Since Honor already knew the other guests and felt at home among them, she focused on observing how Robert reacted to being thrown to the lions, and their reactions to him. If his background made him nervous among the lawyers, bankers, and shipping scions present, he didn’t show it as he bowed over the ladies’ hands and shook their husbands’ with a firm grip.
    Honor held her breath when they came to Wesley. Unlike anyone else present, he alone knew how Theo had turned a sow’s ear into a silk purse.
    He extended his hand, too gracious to betray them. “Good to see you again, Davis.” He turned to Amos Grant. “If Cutter, Bailey and Rye need another lawyer, Davis here is your man.” He smiled his dimpled smile at Honor. “Or Honor is your woman.”
    Honor returned his smile. “How generous of you to say so, Wes.” But then, he always strived to put outsiders at ease.
    Amos Grant, a young man already stretching his waistcoat across an ample belly, cleared his throat with a pompous harrumph. “Cutter and Bailey has never hired a female and never will.”
    Honor felt her hackles rise and had opened her mouth to deliver a scathing retort when Penelope, with a nose for averting social disaster, swooped down on them with offers of sherry and drew Honor aside to converse with the other