Devils Bride

'Mrs. Bingham and Lady Carstairs in the landau.'

It was difficult, Honoria discovered, to smile with clenched teeth. Her breeding, however, dictated her behavior, even in such trying circumstances; calmly serene, she smiled and nodded with gracious impartiality-the truth was, she barely focused on those claiming her attention. Not even the sight of Skiffy Skeffington in his customary bilious green had the power to divert her-her attention was firmly fixed on the reprobate beside her.

She should have chosen the square. After the first three encounters, the interest directed their way registered; the glances of the ladies whose nods she returned were not idle. They were sharp, speculative-keenly acute. Her position beside Devil was clearly making some statement; Honoria had a strong suspicion it was not a statement she'd intended to make. Nodding to a beaming Lady Sefton, she asked: 'How long is it since you last drove a lady in the park?'

'I don't.'

'Don't?' Honoria turned and stared. 'Why not? You can hardly claim you're misogynous.'

Devil's lips twitched; briefly he met her eye. 'If you think about it, Honoria Prudence, you'll see that appearing beside me in the park is tantamount to a declaration-a declaration no unmarried lady has previously been invited to make and one which no married lady would care to flaunt.'

Lady Chetwynd was waiting to be noticed; by the time she was free again, Honoria was simmering. 'And what about me?'

Devil glanced her way; this time, his expression was harder. 'You are different. You're going to marry me.'

An altercation in the park was unthinkable; Honoria seethed, but couldn't let it show, other than in her eyes. Those, only he could see, much good did her fury do her; with an infuriatingly arrogant lift to his brows, he turned back to his horses.

Denied the interrogation she'd planned and the tirade he deserved, Honoria struggled, not simply to contain her wrath but to redirect it. Losing her temper was unlikely to advance her cause.

She slanted a glance at Devil; his attention was on his horses, his profile clear-cut, hard-edged. Eyes narrowing, she looked ahead, to where a line of carriages had formed, waiting to turn. Devil drew in at the end; Honoria saw her chance and took it. 'Have you and your cousins learned anything of the reason behind Tolly's murder?'

One black brow quirked upward. 'I had heard…'

Breath bated, Honoria waited.

'That Aunt Horatia intends giving a ball in a week or so.' Blank green eyes turned her way. 'To declare the family once more on the town, so to speak. Until then, I suspect we should curb our excursions-the park and such mild entertainments are, I believe, permissible. Later…'

In utter disbelief, Honoria listened to a catalogue of projected diversions-the usual divertissements favored by the ton. She didn't bother trying to interrupt. He'd accepted her help in the lane; he'd told her that his people had turned up no clues in the towns about Somersham. She'd thought he'd capitulated-understood and accepted her right to involve herself in the solving of the crime, or, at the very least, accepted her right to know what had been discovered. As the litany of pleasures in store for her continued, Honoria readjusted her thinking.

Very straight, her expression blank, she held her tongue until, the turn accomplished, he ran out of entertainments. Then, and only then, did she glance sideways and meet his eye. 'You are not being fair.'

His features hardened. 'That's the way our world is.'

'Perhaps,' Honoria declared, tilting her chin, 'it's time our world changed.'

He made no answer; flicking the reins, he sent the horses back along the avenue.

Honoria's head was so high she nearly missed seeing the gentleman standing by the verge; he raised his cane in greeting, then waved it.

Devil checked his team, drawing them to a stamping halt by the lawn's edge. 'Good afternoon, Charles.'

Charles Cynster inclined his head. 'Sylvester.' His gaze traveled to Honoria. 'Miss Anstruther- Wetherby.'

Resisting an instinctive retreat to haughtiness, Honoria returned his nod. 'Sir. Might I inquire how your family is faring?' Charles wore the customary black armband, easily seen against his brown coat. Devil likewise wore the badge of mourning, virtually invisible against his black sleeve. Honoria leaned down and gave Charles her hand. 'I've yet to meet your brother and sisters since coming to town.'

'They are…' Charles hesitated. 'Well, I think.' He met Honoria's eyes. 'Recovering from the shock. But how are you? I admit to surprise at seeing you here. I had thought your plans were otherwise?'

Honoria smiled-feelingly. 'They are. This'-she gestured airily-'is merely a temporary arrangement. I've agreed to remain with the Dowager for three months. After that, I plan to begin my preparations for Africa. I'm considering a prolonged sojourn-there's so much to see.' Her smile grew brittle. 'And do.'

'Indeed?' Charles frowned vaguely. 'I believe there's a very good exhibition at the museum. If Sylvester's too busy to escort you, pray call on me. As I assured you before, I'll always hold myself ready to assist you in any way I can.'

Regally, Honoria inclined her head.

After promising to convey their regards to his family, Charles stepped back. With a flick of his wrist, Devil set his horses trotting. 'Honoria Prudence, you would try the patience of a saint.'

Irritation ran beneath his smooth tones. 'You,' Honoria declared, 'are no saint.'

'A point you would do well to bear in mind.'

Quelling a most peculiar shiver, Honoria stared straight ahead.

They ran the gauntlet-the long line of stationary carriages holding the grandes dames of the ton-once more, then Devil turned his horses for home. By the time they reached Grosvenor Square, Honoria had refocused on her day's objective. The objective she had yet to attain.

Devil drew up before his door. Throwing the reins to Sligo, he alighted and lifted Honoria down. By the time she caught her breath, she was on the porch; his front stoop, she decided, was no place for an argument.

The door opened; Devil followed her inside. The hall seemed crowded; as well as Webster, Lucifer was there.

'You're early.'

Honoria glanced at Devil, surprised by the disapproval she detected in his tone. Lucifer's brows had quirked in surprise, but he smiled charmingly as he bowed over her hand. Straightening, he looked at Devil. 'In recompense, if you will, for my previous absence.'

Previous absence? Honoria looked at Devil.

His expression gave nothing away. 'You'll have to excuse us, my dear. Business demands our attention.'

Business her left foot. Honoria raced through her options, searching for some acceptable way to remain with them. There wasn't one. Swallowing a curse, she inclined her head regally, first to her nemesis, then to his cousin, then turned and glided up the stairs.

'I hesitate to state the obvious, but we're getting nowhere. I, for one, am finding failure a mite tedious.' A general growl of agreement greeted Gabriel's pronouncement. All six cousins were present, long limbs disposed in various poses about Devil's library.

'Speaking personally,' Vane drawled, 'I'd prefer to have failure to report. As it is, Old Mick, longtime servitor to the second family, has departed these fair shores.'

Harry frowned. 'He's left England?'

'So Charles informs me.' Vane flicked a speck of lint from his knee. 'I went to Tolly's lodgings and found them relet. According to the landlord, who lives downstairs, Charles turned up the day after Tolly's funeral. No one had told Mick about Tolly-he was, needless to say, cut up.'

Richard whistled soundlessly. 'He'd been with the family forever-he was devoted to Tolly.'