Devils Bride

Expectation took flight; the twins glowed with delight.

Leaving them in alt, already badgering Louise over their ball gowns, Honoria traveled on to Lady Colebourne's town house, to partake of luncheon amidst a host of young matrons. Any lingering reservations over the need for her ball were swiftly laid to rest. Considering gleams appeared in too many eyes at the news that her husband had returned to town, a married gentleman now, far safer, in terms of dalliance, than the unattached rake he used to be.

Smiling serenely, Honoria considered stamping her claim on him, too. Perhaps with a tattoo?-on his forehead, and another relevant part of his anatomy. The ton's bored matrons could look elsewhere for entertainment. Devil was hers-she had to fight an urge to declare the point publicly.

By the time she climbed into her carriage to return to Grosvenor Square, rampant possessiveness had taken firm hold. The strength of the feeling shocked her, but she knew well enough from whence it sprang. Within the ton, there was more than one way to lose a husband.

Not since the night of the storm, when she'd woken to find him in her room, had she thought again of losing him. Despite her fears, despite the fact Sligo and Devil's head stableman had shared her suspicions, nothing further had occurred-it now seemed likely that Devil had been right, and the disintegration of his phaeton nothing more than freakish accident.

Staring at the streetscape, Honoria felt a totally unexpected determination well. She recognized it for what it was-it surprised her, but she did not fight it. Too many people had told her that it was her fate to be his bride.

Which meant he was hers-she intended keeping it that way.

*****

Devil lunched with friends, then dropped in at White's. It was their third day back in the capital; despite the acquisition of a wife, the comfortable regime of former days was slowly settling into place. 'The only difference,' he explained to Vane as they strolled into the reading room, 'is that I no longer need to exert myself over the matter of warming my bed.'

Vane grinned. Nudging Devil's elbow, he nodded to two vacant armchairs.

They settled companionably behind newssheets. Devil gazed at his, unseeing. His mind was full of his wife and her stubbornness. Quite how he had come to marry the one woman in all the millions impervious to intimidation, he did not know. Fate, he recalled, had arranged the matter-his only option seemed to be to hope fate would also provide him with the means to manage her without damaging the subtle something growing between them.

That was unique, at least in his experience. He couldn't define it, could not even describe it-he only knew it was precious, too valuable to risk.

Honoria was also too valuable to risk, at any level, in any way.

He frowned at the newssheet-and wondered what she was doing.

Later that afternoon, having parted from Vane, Devil strolled home through the gathering dusk. He crossed Piccadilly and turned into Berkeley Street.

'Ho! Sylvester!'

Devil halted and turned, then waited until Charles joined him before strolling on. Charles fell into step; he had lodgings in Duke Street, just beyond Grosvenor Square.

'Back to your old haunts, I take it?'

Devil smiled. 'As you say.'

'I'm surprised-I thought Leicestershire would hold you rather longer. They've had excellent sport, so I've heard.'

'I didn't go to the Lodge this season.' Manor Lodge was the ducal hunting box. 'I went out with the Somersham pack but the runs were hardly worth it.'

Charles looked puzzled. 'Is Aunt Helena well?'

'Perfectly.' Devil shot him a sidelong glance; his lips twitched. 'I've had other distractions to hand.'

'Oh?'

'I married recently, remember?'

Charles's brows rose briefly. 'I hadn't imagined marriage would cause any change in your habits.'

Devil merely shrugged. They circumnavigated Berkeley Square, then turned down a alleyway that ran between two houses, connecting the square with Hays Mews.

'I take it Honoria remained at Somersham?'

Devil frowned. 'No. She's here-with me.'

'She is?' Charles blinked. After a moment, he murmured: 'I must remember to pay my respects.'

Devil inclined his head, unwilling to commit Honoria to any transports of delight. He knew perfectly well how his other cousins viewed Charles; for his part, he'd always tried for tolerance. They strode on, eventually halting at the corner of Grosvenor Square. Duke Street lay ahead; Devil was but yards from his door.

Abruptly, Charles swung to face him. 'I hesitate to allude to such a delicate matter, but I feel I must speak.'

Coolly, Devil raised his brows-and took a firm grip on his tolerance.

'Bringing Honoria to London, so early in her tenure, to require her to countenance your wider liaisons within months of your marriage, is unnecessarily cruel. She may not be experienced in tonnish behavior but her understanding is, I believe, superior. She will doubtless realize you're bestowing your interest elsewhere. Women are sensitive to such matters-if you had left her at Somersham, she would not be exposed to such hurt.'

His expression blank, Devil looked down at Charles; he'd lost all touch with tolerance-instead, he was battling to keep the lid on his formidable temper. If Charles had not been family, he'd be choking on his teeth. It took concerted effort to keep a snarl from his face. 'You mistake the matter, Charles. It was Honoria's wish that she accompany me, a wish I saw no reason to deny.' His rigidly even tone had Charles stiffening; his gaze would have frozen hell. 'Furthermore, you appear to be laboring under a misapprehension-at present, I have no intention of seeking any 'wider liaison'-my wife holds my interest to the exclusion of all others.'

It was the truth, the literal truth, stated more clearly than he'd allowed his own mind to know it.

Charles blinked-he looked stunned.

Devil's lips twisted in chilly self-deprecation. 'Indeed-there's more to marriage than even I foresaw. You should try it-I can recommend it as a challenging experience.'

With a curt nod, he strode for his door, leaving Charles, blank-faced, staring after him.

Chapter 20

The next morning, as soon as he was free of his most urgent business, Devil climbed the stairs to the morning room.

Honoria looked up as he entered; she smiled warmly. 'I thought you'd be busy for hours.'

'Hobden's on his way back to the Place.' Devil strolled to the chaise and sat on the arm beside her. Resting one arm along the chaise's back, he picked up one of the lists from Honoria's lap. 'Our guests?'

She peeked. 'That's the connections. These are the friends.'

Devil took the lists and scanned them. They'd discussed her notion of an impromptu ball the evening before. Reasoning that the exercise would keep her occupied-distracted from Bromley and his doings-he'd readily concurred. 'There are a few names you might add.'

Honoria picked up a pencil and dutifully scribbled as he reeled off a short list of his own. When he said 'Chillingworth' she looked up in surprise. 'I thought the earl was no favorite of yours?'

'On the contrary-he's a prime favorite.' Devil smiled, one of his Prince of Darkness smiles. 'Who would I taunt if I didn't have Chillingworth by?'