Devils Bride

than usual, each harsh plane starkly edged, the whole no more animated than a death mask in which his eyes burned oddly dark. She met that black gaze directly. 'Sligo was acting on my orders.'

Devil raised a brow, his expression cold. 'Indeed?'

Honoria studied his eyes, then inclined her head. And turned for the stairs. In the mood he was in, saying anything further might be counterproductive.

Rigid, Devil watched her ascend. When she passed from sight, he switched his gaze to Sligo. 'In the library.'

Sligo scurried in; Devil followed more slowly. Crossing the threshold, he paused; a footman closed the door. Sligo stood at attention to one side of the desk. Devil let silence stretch before slowly closing the distance.

Normally, he would have sat at his desk; tonight, the rage consuming him would not let him rest. He halted before the long windows giving onto the dark courtyard.

Words filled his head, jostled for prominence on his tongue, a ranting rave of fury clamoring to spill free. Jaw clenched, he fought to hold it back. Never before could he recall such rage-so fraught he was chilled to the marrow, so powerful he could barely contain it.

He glanced at Sligo. 'I was informed by a footman who chanced upon me in St. James that Her Grace was on her way to the Anchor's Arms. Before I could summon a hackney, three others of my household appeared, bearing like tidings. It appears that fully half my staff were scouring the streets for me, instead of obeying my orders and looking after my wife! How the devil did she even hear about the Anchor's Arms?'

Sligo flinched. 'She asked-I told her.'

'What in all the saints' names did you mean by taking her there?'

The door opened at the height of that roar. Devil glared balefully at Webster. 'I do not wish to be disturbed.'

'Indeed, Your Grace.' Webster stepped around the door, held it open for Mrs. Hull, then closed it. 'Mrs. Hull and I wished to make sure you were not laboring under any misapprehension.'

'It is exceedingly difficult to misapprehend discovering my wife in a dockside tavern.'

The words had an edge like cut glass; Webster paled but persevered. 'I believe you wish to learn how that came about, my lord. Sligo did not act on his own. We were all, myself, Mrs. Hull, and Sligo, aware of Her Grace's intent. We all attempted to dissuade her, but, having heard her reasons, we couldn't legitimately stand in her way.'

His fists clenched so tight they hurt, his jaw all but locked, Devil spoke through his teeth. 'What reasons?'

Webster outlined Honoria's plan; Mrs. Hull elucidated her reasons. 'Perfectly understandable, to my mind.' She sniffed defensively. 'She was worried-as were we. It seemed a perfectly sensible thing to do.'

Devil swallowed the tirade that leapt to his tongue. His temper seething, roiling behind the flimsy facade of civilized behavior, he eyed them narrowly. 'Out! All of you.'

They went, carefully shutting the door. Swinging around, Devil stared into the night. Sligo didn't approve of tonnish women, Webster was as starchily devoted as they came, and Mrs. Hull was an arch-conservative-yet all had been suborned by his wife. And her reasons.

Ever since marrying Honoria Prudence Anstruther-Wetherby, he'd been knee-deep in reasons-her reasons. He had reasons, too-good, sound, solid reasons. But it wasn't his staff he need to share them with. Having reached that conclusion, Devil swung on his heel and stalked out of the library.

Striding toward the ducal apartments, he reflected that Honoria had succeeded in shielding her three co- conspirators from his anger, without even being present. Of course, if he'd been able to lose some of the red-hot fury swirling inside him by venting it on them, she wouldn't be about to face it all herself. As it was…

Reaching the end of the corridor, he threw open the door, then slammed it shut behind him.

Honoria didn't even jump. She stood before the fireplace, head erect, unshakable resolve in every line. The skirts of her brown velvet carriage dress were gilded by the fire behind her; the soft chestnut curls atop her head glowed. Her hands were loosely clasped before her; her face was pale but composed, her eyes wide, the soft blue-grey showing no hint of trepidation. Her neatly rounded, Anstruther-Wetherby chin was set.

Deliberately, Devil stalked toward her, watching her chin rise as she kept her eyes on his. He stopped directly before her. 'You gave me your word you would not actively pursue Tolly's killer.'

Calmly, Honoria raised a brow. 'Tolly's killer-I gave no undertaking to sit idly by while someone tried to kill you.'

Shadows flitted through Devil's darkened eyes. He inclined his head. 'Very well-you may give me such an undertaking now.'

Honoria straightened. Devil still towered over her. 'I can't do that.'

His eyes mere slits, more black than green, he shifted closer. 'Can't-or won't?'

Honoria held her ground. 'Can't.' Her eyes on his, her jaw slowly firmed. 'And won't. You can't seriously expect it of me.'

For three heartbeats, Devil held her gaze. 'I'm deathly serious.' He braced one hand on the mantelpiece, his body settling closer, his face nearer hers. 'Women-wives-are supposed to sit quietly at home and embroider, not actively hunt villains. They're supposed to be at home when their husbands get in, not out courting danger on the docks!' Briefly closing his eyes, he fought down the impulse to roar. Then he trapped Honoria's gaze and continued: 'I want your promise that you will not again indulge in any escapade such as today's, that you will remain safely at home and that you will not further concern yourself with tracking anyone's killer.' His eyes locked on hers, he raised one black brow. 'Well?'

Honoria held his gaze steadily. 'Well what?'

Devil only just managed to hold back a roar. 'Well give me your promise!'

'When hell freezes!' Honoria's eyes flashed. 'I will not sit tamely by while someone tries to take you from me. I'm your duchess-not some disinterested spectator. I will not sit quietly embroidering, waiting for news when that news could tell of your death. As your wife, I have a duty to help you-if in this case that means walking a dangerous path, so be it.' Her chin, defiantly high, rose another notch. 'I'm an Anstruther-Wetherby-I'm every bit as capable of facing danger and death as you are. If you wanted a tame, complaisant wife, you shouldn't have married me.'

Momentarily stunned, more by her vehemence than her words, Devil stared at her. Then, his frown deepening, he shook his head. 'No.'

Honoria frowned back. 'No what?'

'No to all the above, but most especially no, you do not have a duty to assist me in hunting a murderer. As my wife, you have no duties other than those I deem proper. In my eyes, there's nothing-no duty, no reason whatever-that could justify you placing yourself in danger.'

Their faces were six inches apart; if Honoria had not sensed the throttled fury investing his large frame, radiating from it, she could not have missed the jagged edge to his words. Her eyes narrowed. 'That I do not accept.' She was not about to bow before his rage.

Devil's lips curved slightly; his voice, when he spoke, was mesmerically low. 'That you will accept.'

It was an effort not to shiver, to submissively shift her gaze from his, so penetrating, so compelling, it resembled a physical force. By sheer will, sheer stubbornness, Honoria met that intimidating gaze levelly. 'You're wrong on all counts. I've lost others before, to forces I could not influence-I couldn't help them, I couldn't save them.' Her jaw set; momentarily, her teeth clenched. 'I will not sit by and let you be taken from me.'

Her voice quavered; flashes of silver lit Devil's eyes. 'Damn it!-do you think I'm going to let myself be taken?'

'Not intentionally, but it was me who detected the poison.'

Devil waved that aside. 'That was here.' He studied her face, her eyes. 'Within this house, you may watch