Devils Bride

was present, still in deadest black, her composure a shield against those proffering their condolences.

At St. Ives House, black crepe had wreathed the knocker ever since they had come up to town; on the Dowager's orders, it had been removed this morning. Their first week in the capital had been spent quietly, eschewing all social functions, but it was now three weeks since Tolly's death; his aunts had decreed their time in deep mourning past. They all still wore black and would for another three weeks, then they would go into half- mourning for another six weeks.

Honoria circulated amongst Celia's guests, noting those whose acuity might prove useful. Unfortunately, as it was the first time she'd ventured into society, there were many eager to claim her attention.

'Honoria.' Turning, Honoria found Celia beside her, a plate of cakes in her hand, her eye on a chaise on the opposite side of the room. 'I hate to ask, but I know you can handle it.' With a smile, Celia handed her the plate. 'Lady Osbaldestone-she's a veritable tartar. If I go, she'll shackle me to the chaise, and I'll never get free. But if one of the family doesn't appear to appease her curiosity, she'll batten on Louise. Here, let me take your cup.'

Relieved of her empty teacup, Honoria was left with the cake plate. She opened her lips to point out she wasn't 'family'-but Celia had disappeared into the crowd. Honoria hesitated, then, with a resigned sigh, straightened her shoulders and bore down on Lady Osbaldestone.

Her ladyship greeted her with a basilik stare. 'And about time, too.' A clawlike hand shot out and snaffled a petit four. 'Well, miss?' She stared at Honoria. When she simply stared back, politely vacant, her ladyship snorted. 'Sit down, do! You're giving me a crick. Daresay that devil St. Ives chose you for your height-I can just imagine why.' This last was said with a definite leer-Honoria swallowed an urge to request clarification. Instead, she perched, precisely correct, on the edge of the chaise, the cake plate held where Lady Osbaldestone could reach it.

Her ladyship's black eyes studied her carefully while the petit four was consumed. 'Not just in the usual way and an Anstruther-Wetherby to boot, heh? What's your grandfather say to this match, miss?'

'I have no idea,' Honoria answered calmly. 'But you're laboring under a misapprehension. I'm not marrying anyone.'

Lady Osbaldestone blinked. 'Not even St. Ives?'

'Particularly not St. Ives.' Deciding she might as well eat, Honoria selected a small tea cake and nibbled delicately.

Her declaration had struck Lady Osbaldestone dumb. For a full minute, her black eyes, narrowed, rested on Honoria's profile, then her ladyship's face cracked in a wide smile; she cackled gleefully. 'Oh, you'll do. Keep up that pose, miss, and you'll do for Devil Cynster nicely.'

Haughtily, Honoria looked down her nose. 'I have no interest in His Grace of St. Ives.'

'Oh-ho!' Her ladyship poked her arm with a bony finger. 'But has His Grace an interest in you?'

Her eyes trapped in her ladyship's black gaze, Honoria wished she could lie. Lady Osbaldestone's grin grew wider. 'Take my advice, girl-make sure he never loses it. Never let him take you for granted. The best way to hold such men is to make them work for their pleasure.'

Adopting a martyred expression, Honoria sighed. 'I really am not going to marry him.'

Lady Osbaldestone, suddenly terrifyingly sober, looked at Honoria through old black eyes. 'Girl-you don't have a choice. No-!' She pointed a skeletal finger. 'Don't poker up and stick that Anstruther-Wetherby chin in the air. There's no benefit in running from fate. Devil Cynster has all but declared he wants you-which means he'll have you-and if that chin is any guide, it'll be a good thing, too. And as he's too experienced to pursue where there's no reciprocating sentiment, you needn't think to deny it.' Her ladyship snorted. 'You'd have to be dead to be immune to his temptation-and you don't look too desiccated to me.'

A blush stole into Honoria's cheeks; Lady Osbaldestone nodded. 'Your mother's dead-so's your grandmother-so I'll give you the right advice in their stead. Accept fate's decree-marry the devil and make it work. Handsome may be as handsome is, but underneath it all he's a good man. You're a strong woman-that's the way it should be. And despite any thoughts of yours, the devil, in this case, is right. The Cynsters need you; the Anstruther-Wetherbys, strange to tell, need you as a Cynster, too. Fate has landed you precisely where you're supposed to be.'

Leaning forward, she held Honoria's gaze mercilously. 'And besides, if you don't take him on, who do you imagine will? Some namby-pamby chit with more hair than wit? Do you hate him so much you'd condemn him to that-a marriage with no passion?'

Honoria couldn't breathe. A gust of laughter reached them; the rustle of silk heralded an approaching lady. 'There you are, Josephine. Are you grilling poor Miss Anstruther-Wetherby?'

Lady Osbaldestone finally consented to release Honoria; she glanced up at the newcomer. 'Good afternoon, Emily. I was merely giving Miss Anstruther-Wetherby the benefit of my experienced counsel.' She waved Honoria to her feet. 'Off you go-and remember what I said. And take those cakes away-they're fattening.'

Shaken, her features stiff, Honoria bobbed a curtsy to Emily, Lady Cowper, then, head high, let the crowd swallow her. Unfortunately, many ladies were waiting to waylay her, to quiz her on her new relationship.

'Has St. Ives taken you to Richmond yet? The trees are quite lovely at present.'

'And where are you planning to spend the festive season, my dear?'

Sidestepping such inquiries required tact and skill, difficult with her mind reeling from Lady Osbaldestone's lecture. Spying Amanda and Amelia half-hidden by a palm, Honoria sought refuge with them. Their eyes lit up when they saw the cake plate; she handed it over without comment.

'Mama said we should come and see what 'at homes' are like,' Amanda said around a miniature currant bun.

'We're to be brought out next year,' Amelia added.

Honoria watched them eat. 'How are you?'

Both girls looked up, openly, without any trace of pain. They both screwed up their faces in thought, then Amanda offered: 'All right, I think.'

'We keep expecting him to come for dinner-just like he always did.' Amelia looked down and picked up a last crumb.

Amanda nodded. 'Laughing and joking, just like that last night.'

Honoria frowned. 'Last night?'

'The night before he was shot.'

Honoria blinked. 'Tolly came to dinner the night before he died?'

Amelia nodded. 'He was in great spirits-he usually was. He played spillikins with the young ones, then after dinner, we all played Speculation. It was great fun.'

'That's…' Honoria blinked again. 'Nice-I mean, that you have such good memories of him.'

'Yes.' Amanda nodded. 'It is nice.' She appeared to dwell on the fact, then looked at Honoria. 'When are you going to marry Devil?'

The question hit Honoria right in the chest. She looked into the twins' eyes, four orbs of innocent blue, and cleared her throat. 'We haven't decided.'

'Oh,' they chorused, and smiled benignly.

Honoria beat a hasty retreat and headed for an empty alcove. Inwardly, she cursed. First Lady Osbaldestone, now Tolly's sisters. Who else was lining up to shake her resolution? The answer was unexpected.

'How are you coping with being absorbed into the clan?'

The soft question had Honoria turning, to meet Louise Cynster's still-weary eyes. Tolly's mother smiled. 'It takes a little getting used to, I know.'

Honoria drew a deep breath. 'It's not that.' She hesitated, then, encouraged by Louise's calm expression, forged on: 'I haven't actually agreed to marry Devil-just to consider the idea.' With a gesture that encompassed the room, she added: 'I feel like a fraud.'

To her relief, Louise didn't laugh or turn the comment lightly aside. Instead, after a moment scrutinizing her face, she put a hand on her arm. 'You're not certain, are you?'

'No.' Her voice was barely a whisper. After a minute, she added: 'I thought I