Devils Bride

Honoria looked her reply but left the earl on the list. Chillingworth could look after himself.

'I had wondered,' Devil said, studying her profile, 'if you were free to come for a drive?'

Honoria looked up, her arm brushing his thigh. Her eyes touched his, then she grimaced. 'I can't.' She gestured to the writing materials on the table. 'If the ball's to be next Friday, I need to send the invitations out today.'

Devil had never written a ball invitation in his life. He was about to suggest he might learn, when Honoria continued: 'Louise is bringing the twins by to help.'

With a swift smile, Devil uncoiled his long legs. 'In that case, I'll leave you to your endeavors.'

His fingers trailed against her cheek as he stood, then he grinned and strolled to the door; Honoria watched it close behind him. She stared at the panels, her expression wistful, then she grimaced and went back to her lists.

The next morning, when the morning room door opened, Honoria looked up with an eager smile. Only to discover it was Vane who sought an audience.

'Devil said I'd find you here.' Smiling charmingly, he strolled forward. 'I've a request to make.'

The gleam in his eye suggested just what that request might be; Honoria eyed it with matriarchal disapproval. 'Who?' she asked.

'Lady Canterton. And Harry suggested Lady Pinney.'

Honoria held his gaze for a pregnant moment, then reached for her pencil. 'I'll send the invitations today.'

'Thank you.'

'With one proviso.' She looked up in time to see wariness creep into his eyes.

'What proviso?'

There was a hint of steel in the question; Honoria ignored it. 'You will each dance one dance with each of the twins.'

'The twins?' Vane stared at her. 'How old are they?'

'Seventeen. They'll be presented this year-Friday will be their first ball.'

Vane shuddered.

Honoria raised a brow. 'Well?'

He looked at her, grim resignation in his eyes. 'Very well-one dance each. I'll tell Harry.'

Honoria nodded. 'Do.'

Her next visitors followed in quick succession, all on the same errand. Gabriel succeded Vane; Lucifer followed. The last through the morning-room door was Richard. 'I know,' Honoria said, reaching for her much- amended list. 'Lady Grey.'

'Lady Grey?' Richard blinked. 'Why Lady Grey?'

Honoria blinked back. She'd seen him slip away from Horatia's ball with the dark-haired, alabaster-skinned beauty. 'Isn't she…?' She gestured with her pencil.

'Ah, no.' Richard's grin was reminiscent of Devil at his worst. 'That was last year. I was going to ask for Lady Walton.'

Ask for-like a treat. And, like a treat, Lady Walton would doubtless fall, a ripe plum into his lap. Honoria decided it was useless disapproving; she added Lady Walton to her list.

'And I dutifully promise to stand up with both Amanda and Amelia.'

'Good.' Honoria looked up in time to witness Richard's insouciant bow.

'A very good idea, this ball of yours.' He paused at the door, a Cynster smile on his lips. 'We were all looking for a way to get the Season rolling. Nothing could be better than an impromptu ball.'

Honoria shot him a warning look; chuckling, he left.

She went on with her planning, trying not to listen for footsteps beyond the door, trying not to wonder whether Devil would drop by to hear of his cousins' selections, to ask her what she was doing, to offer his views.

He didn't.

When she entered the breakfast parlor the next morning, she was pleased to find Devil still present, sipping coffee and scanning The Gazette. Her place was now at the table's other end, an expanse of polished mahogany between them. Taking her seat, she beamed a warm smile across the silver service.

Devil returned the gesture, the expression more evident in his eyes than on his lips. Folding The Gazette, he laid it aside. 'How are your plans progressing?'

Although he'd dined at home the previous night, he'd been preoccupied with business; he had come to bed late, conversation very far from his mind. Between sipping tea and nibbling toast, Honoria filled him in.

He listened attentively, interpolating comments, ending with: 'You're setting a new fashion, you know. I've already heard of two other hostesses who are planning early, impromptu entertainments.'

Smiling radiantly, Honoria shrugged. 'Where St. Ives leads, the others will follow.'

He grinned appreciatively, then his eyes locked on hers. 'I've had the horses brought up from the Place. It's fine outside-I wondered if you'd care to ride?'

Honoria's heart leapt-she sorely missed their private hours. 'I-'

'Your pardon, Your Grace.'

Turning, Honoria watched as Mrs. Hull bobbed a curtsy to Devil, then faced her. 'The caterers have arrived, ma'am. I've put them in the parlor.'

'Oh-yes.' Happiness deflating like a pricked balloon, Honoria smiled weakly. 'I'll join them shortly.' The florists were also due that morning, as were the musicians.

Mrs. Hull withdrew; Honoria turned back to meet Devil's eyes. 'I'd forgotten. The supper menu needs to be decided today. I won't have time to ride this morning.'

With a suave smile, Devil waved dismissively. 'It's of no account.'

Honoria held back a frown-that smile did not reach his eyes. But she could think of nothing appropriate to say; with an apologetic smile, she stood. 'By your leave.'

Devil inclined his head, his superficial smile still in place. He watched Honoria leave, then set down his cup and stood. Slowly, a frown replaced his smile. He walked into the hall; behind him, Webster gave orders for the parlor to be cleared. An instant later, he appeared at his elbow.

'Shall I send for your horse, Your Grace?'

Devil focused, and found his gaze resting on the stairs up which Honoria had gone. 'No.' When he rode alone, he rode early, before others were about. His features hardening, he turned to the library. 'I'll be busy for the rest of the morning.'

*****

The day of the duchess of St. Ives's impromptu ball dawned crisp and clear. In the park, wispy mist wreathed beneath the trees; shrill birdcalls echoed in the stillness.

Devil rode along the deserted tan track, the heavy thud of his horse's hooves drumming in his ears. He rode with single-minded abandon, fast yet in absolute control, his body and his mount's in fluid concert as they flew through the chill morning. At the end of the track, he hauled the snorting chestnut's head about-and rode back even faster.

Nearing the end of the tan, he eased back, pulling up before a stand of oak. The deep-chested horse, built for endurance, blew hard, and dropped his head. Devil loosened the reins, chest swelling as he drew the air deep.

There was no one in sight, nothing but trees and well-tended lawns. The tang of damp grass rose as the chestnut shifted, then settled to crop. Devil filled his chest again, and felt the cold reach his brain. And, as often happened in this solitude, his unease, the nagging disquiet that had gnawed at him for days, crystallized, clarified. The insight was not encouraging.

The idea that he was irritated because his wife was so busy organizing her ball that she had no time for him