Devils Bride

The gentleman glanced up at the sound of hooves. He straightened, head rising, chin tilting to an angle Devil recognized instantly. Drawing rein, he raised a brow. 'Michael Anstruther-Wetherby, I presume?'

The answering nod was curt. 'St. Ives.' Michael Anstruther-Wetherby was in his mid-twenties, of athletic build, with the same steady assurance, the same directness, that characterized his sister. Used to sizing men up in an instant, Devil rapidly readjusted his image of his prospective brother-in-law. Honoria's smugness had painted her brother as weaker than she, perhaps lacking the true Anstruther-Wetherby character. Yet the man eyeing him straitly, challenge and skepticism very clear in his blue eyes, had a decidedly purposeful chin. Devil smiled. 'I believe we have matters to discuss. I suggest we take a ride beyond the reach of interruptions.'

The blue eyes, arrested, held his, then Michael nodded. 'An excellent idea.' He reached for the bay's reins, then he was in the saddle. 'If you can guarantee no interruptions, you'll have achieved a first.'

Devil grinned, and set course for a nearby hillock. He halted on the crest; Michael drew up alongside. Devil glanced his way. 'I've no idea what Honoria wrote, so I'll start at the beginning.'

Michael nodded. 'That might be wise.'

Gazing over his fields, Devil outlined the events leading to Honoria's presence at the Place. 'So,' he concluded, 'I've suggested that getting married is appropriate.'

'To you?'

Devil's brows flew. 'Whom else did you have in mind?'

'Just checking.' Michael's grin surfaced briefly, then he sobered. 'But if that's the case, why have I been summoned to escort her to Hampshire?'

'Because,' Devil replied, 'your sister imagines she's so long in the tooth that a reputation is neither here nor there. She plans to be the next Hester Stanhope.'

'Oh, lord!' Michael cast his eyes heavenward. 'She's not still set on Africa, is she?'

'It's her dearest wish, so I've been informed, to ride in the shadow of the Sphinx, pursued, no doubt, by a horde of Berber chieftains, then to fall victim to Barbary Coast slave traders. I understand she believes she's starved of excitement and the only way she'll get any is to brave the wilds of Africa.'

Michael looked disgusted. 'I'd hoped she'd grown out of that by now. Or that some gentleman would appear and give her mind a new direction.'

'As to the first, I suspect she'll grow more determined with age-she is, after all, an Anstruther-Wetherby, a family renowned for its stubbornness. But as to giving her mind a new direction, I already have that in hand.'

Michael looked up. 'Has she agreed to marry you?'

'Not yet.' Devil's expression hardened. 'But she will.'

There was an instant's silence, then Michael asked: 'Free of any coercion?'

Devil's eyes met his; one brow lifted superciliously. 'Naturally.'

Michael studied Devil's eyes, then his features relaxed. He looked out over the fields; Devil waited patiently. Eventually, Michael looked his way. 'I'll admit I would be glad to see Honoria safely wed, especially to a man of your standing. I won't oppose the match-I'll support it however I can. But I won't agree to pressure her into any decision.'

Devil inclined his head. 'Aside from anything else your sister is hardly a biddable female.'

'As you say.' Michael's gaze turned shrewd. 'So what do you want of me?'

Devil grinned. 'My brand of persuasion doesn't work well at a distance. I need Honoria to remain within reach.' With a gesture, he indicated that they should ride on, and touched his heels to Sulieman's flanks.

Michael cantered alongside. 'If Honoria's set on returning home, I'll need some reason to gainsay her.'

Devil shot him a glance. 'Is she her own mistress?'

'Until she's twenty-five, she's in my care.'

'In that case,' Devil said, 'I have a plan.'

By the time they cantered into the stable yard, Michael was entirely comfortable with his brother-in-law to be. It appeared that his sister, usually an irresistible force, had finally met a sufficiently immovable object. He matched his stride to Devil's as they headed for the house.

'Tell me,' Devil said, his gaze roving the house, checking for impending interruptions. 'Has she always been frightened of storms?'

He glanced at Michael in rime to see him wince.

'They still make her twitch?'

Devil frowned. 'Rather more than that.'

Michael sighed. 'Hardly surprising, I suppose-I still get edgy myself.'

'Why?'

Michael met his eyes. 'She told you our parents were killed in a carriage accident?'

Devil searched his memory. 'That they were killed in an accident.'

'There was rather more to it than that.' Michael drew a deep breath. 'Neither Honoria nor I are frightened of storms-at least, we weren't. On that day, our parents took the other two for a drive.'

'Other two?' Devil slowed his pace.

Michael looked up. 'Meg and Jemmy. Our brother and sister.' Devil halted, his expression blank. Michael stopped and faced him. 'She didn't tell you about them?'

Devil shook his head; abruptly, he focused on Michael. 'Tell me exactly what happened.'

Michael looked away, across the lawns toward the house. 'The pater wanted to take Mama for a drive-it started as a lovely day. Mama had been ill-she was going through one of her better patches-Papa wanted her to get some air. The little ones went with them. Honoria and I stayed home-we couldn't fit and we both had studies to attend to. Then the storm blew up-raced in out of nowhere. Honoria and I loved watching the clouds roll in. We ran up to the schoolroom to watch.'

He paused, his gaze distant, fixed in the past. 'The schoolroom was in the attics, overlooking the drive. We stood at the window and looked out. We never dreamed…' He swallowed. 'We were laughing and joking, listening for the thunder, trying to spot the flashes. Then there was a massive crash overhead. In the same instant, we saw the curricle come racing up the drive. The children were frantic, clinging to Mama. The horses had panicked-Papa had his hands full managing them.' He paused. 'I can see them so clearly, even now. Then the lightning struck.'

When he said nothing more, Devil prompted: 'The carriage?'

Michael shook his head. 'The bolt hit a huge elm beside the drive. It fell.' Again he paused, then, drawing a deep breath, went on: 'We watched it fall. The others didn't see it at first-then they did.' He shuddered. 'I closed my eyes, but I don't think Honoria did. She saw it all.'

Devil gave him a moment, then asked: 'They were killed?'

'Instantly.' Michael drew a shaky breath. 'I can still hear the horses screaming. We had to put them down.'

Very gently, Devil said: 'Go back-what happened to Honoria?'

Michael blinked. 'Honoria? When I opened my eyes, she was standing, absolutely still, before the window. Then she stretched out her hands and stepped forward. I grabbed her and pulled her away. She clung to me then.' He shivered. 'That's the one thing I remember most vividly-how she cried. She made no sound-the tears just rolled down her cheeks, as if her sorrow was so deep she couldn't even sob.' After a pause, he added: 'I don't think I'll ever forget how helpless her crying made me feel.'

Devil didn't think he'd ever forget either.

Shoulders lifting on a deep breath, Michael glanced fully at Devil. 'That's the sum of it-we sorted things out and got on with our lives. Of course, the loss was worse for Honoria.' He fell in beside Devil as they continued toward the house. 'As Mama had been so ill, Honoria had become more mother than sister to the younger two. Losing them was like losing her own children, I think.'

Devil was silent as they crossed the last of the lawn; he glanced up as they neared the portico, briefly studying the inscription on its facade. Then he glanced at Michael. 'You need a drink.' He needed one, too. Then he needed to think.

Honoria was descending the main staircase, a frown puckering her brows, when the front door opened and her brother walked in.