Lord Arthur Cynster and his wife Louise proved to be Tolly's parents.
There followed a detailed discussion of who to notify, the appropriate arrangements, and how to accommodate the expected crowd, which encompassed a goodly proportion of the ton. While Devil undertook the first two aspects, organizing rooms and sustenance fell to the Dowager.
Despite her firm intention to remain aloof from Devil's family, Honoria simply could not stand by and allow such a weight to descend on the Dowager's fragile shoulders. Especially not when she was more than well qualified to lighten the load. As, however reluctantly, an Anstruther-Wetherby who had been present when Tolly had died, she would be expected to attend the funeral; she would need to remain at the Place at least until after that. That being so, there was no reason not to offer her aid. Besides which, to sit idly in her room while about her the household ran frantic, would be entirely beyond her.
Within minutes, she was immersed in lists-initial lists, then derived lists and eventually lists for cross-checking. The afternoon and evening passed in intense activity; Webster and the housekeeper, a matronly woman known as Mrs. Hull, coordinated the execution of the Dowager's directives. An army of maids and footmen labored to open up rooms. Helpers from the nearby farms tramped in to assist in the kitchens and stables. Yet all the bustle was subdued, somber; not a laugh was heard nor a smile seen.
Night fell, restless, disturbed; Honoria awoke to a dull day. A funereal pall had settled over the Place-it deepened with the arrival of the first carriage.
The Dowager met it, taking her grieving sister-in-law under her wing. Honoria slipped away, intending to seek refuge in the summerhouse by the side of the front lawn. She was halfway across the lawn when she caught sight of Devil, heading her way through the trees. He had gone with the chaplain, Mr. Menyweather, and a party of men to mark out the grave. Devil had seen her; Honoria halted.
He came striding out of the shade, long legs encased in buckskin breeches and shiny top boots. His fine white shirt with billowing sleeves, opened at the throat, was topped by a leather waistcoat. Despite his less-than-conventional attire, with his dramatic coloring, he still looked impressive-and every inch a pirate.
His gaze traveled swiftly over her, taking in her gown of soft lavender-grey, a color suitable for half-mourning. His expression was set, impassive, yet she sensed his approval.
"Your aunt and uncle have arrived." She made the statement while he was still some yards away.
One black brow quirked; Devil didn't pause. "Good morning, Honoria Prudence." Smoothly collecting her hand, he placed it on his arm and deftly turned her back toward the house. "I trust you slept well?"
"Perfectly, thank you." With no choice offering, Honoria strolled briskly beside him. She suppressed an urge to glare. "I haven't made you free of my name."
Devil looked toward the drive. "An oversight on your part, but I'm not one to stand on ceremony. I take it Maman has my aunt in hand?"
Her eyes on his, Honoria nodded.
"In that case," Devil said, looking ahead, "I'll need your help." Another crepe-draped carriage came into view, rolling slowly toward the steps. "That will be Tolly's younger brother and sisters."
He glanced at Honoria; she exhaled and inclined her head. Lengthening their strides, they reached the drive as the carriage rocked to a halt.
The door burst open; a boy jumped down. Eyes wide, he looked dazedly toward the house. Then he heard their footsteps and swung their way. Slender, quivering with tension, he faced them, his face leached of all color, his lips pinched. Recognition flared in his tortured eyes. Honoria saw him tense to fly to Devil, but he conquered the impulse and straightened, swallowing manfully.
Devil strode to the boy, dropping a hand on his shoulder and squeezing reassuringly. "Good lad."
He looked into the carriage, then beckoned to the occupants. "Come."
He lifted first one silently sobbing girl, then another, down. Both possessed a wealth of chestnut ringlets and delicate complexions, presently blotchy. Four huge blue eyes swam in pools of tears; their slender figures shook with their sobs. They were, Honoria judged, about sixteen-and twins. Without any show of consciousness or fear, they clung to Devil, arms locking about his waist.
One arm about each, Devil turned them to face her. "This is Honoria Prudence-Miss Anstruther-Wetherby to you. She'll look after you both." He met Honoria's gaze. "She knows how it feels to lose someone you love."
Both girls and the boy were too distressed to render the prescribed greeting. Honoria didn't wait for it but smoothly took her cue. Devil deftly detached himself from the girls' clinging arms; gliding forward, she took his place. Slipping a comforting arm around each girl, she turned them toward the house. "Come-I'll show you to your room. Your parents are already inside."
They allowed her to shepherd them up the steps. Honoria was aware of their curious glances.
On the porch, both girls paused, gulping back their tears. Honoria cast a swift glance behind and saw Devil, his back to them, one arm draped across the boy's slight shoulders, head bent as he spoke to the lad. Turning back, she gathered her now shivering charges and urged them on.
Both balked.
"Will we have to… I mean-" One glanced up at her.
"Will we have to look at him?" the other forced out. "Is his face badly damaged?"
Honoria's heart lurched; sympathy-long-buried empathy-welled. "You won't have to see him if you don't want to." She spoke softly, reassuringly. "But he looks wonderfully peaceful-just like I imagine he always did. Handsome and quietly happy."
Both girls stared at her, hope in their eyes.
"I was there when he died," Honoria felt compelled to add.
"You were?" There was surprise and a touch of youthful skepticism in their tones.