Devils Bride (Cynster 1)

Honoria managed to keep the shock from her eyes. "He was only twenty."

"So?" The word dripped arrogance. "Cynsters start young."

He was the archetype-presumably he knew. Honoria decided to leave that subject-Devil had stepped into the undergrowth. "What are you looking for? A gun?"

"Tolly didn't carry a gun."

"So?" Her version dripped impatience.

His lips thinned. "I'm looking for anything that shouldn't be here." He stopped and looked around. "The wind could have blown things either side of the lane."

It was a daunting task. While Devil tramped back the undergrowth close by where Tolly had fallen, Honoria peered and poked at the verges farther along the lane. A strong stick in one hand, she followed in his wake, prodded likely-looking clumps of grass and lifted leaf mold. Devil glanced around and grunted, then continued more swiftly, scanning the area as he went, leaving the finer details to her.

When they'd covered an area going back a yard from the lane, Honoria straightened and pushed back the feather trying to poke her in the eye. "Why do you think Tolly was in the lane?"

Devil answered without looking up. "I assume he was coming to the Place."

"Your aunt thought it likely he was coming to seek your advice."

He looked up at that. "You asked Aunt Louise?"

His tone had Honoria straightening to attention. "We were just chatting-she doesn't suspect anything." His censorious expression didn't alter; gesturing airily, she shrugged. "You said it was a highwayman, so it was a highwayman. Everyone believes it-even your mother."

"Thank God for that." With a last, saber-edged glance, Devil returned to his search. "The last thing I need is females interfering."

"Indeed?" Wielding her stick, she scattered a pile of leaves. "I suppose it never occurred to you that we females might contribute something?"

"If you saw the contribution my mother thought of making you wouldn't ask. She penned a note to the magistrate that would have made his hair stand on end-if he could have deciphered it."

Honoria flicked over a clod. "If we weren't left feeling so frustratingly helpless-set to one side and told to knit mittens-perhaps we wouldn't react quite so wildly." Swinging about, she waved her stick at him. "Just think how frustrated you would feel if you knew you, personally, could never achieve anything."

He looked at her-steadily-for what seemed a long tune. Then his features hardened; he gestured at the ground. "Just keep searching."

Though they searched both sides of the lane, they found precisely nothing. Remounting, they cantered through the fields, then through the gate into the park, both absorbed with thoughts of Tolly's death.

As they rode between the ranks of golden poplars, Honoria glanced at Devil. "Your aunt intends to give you the silver hip flask you gave Tolly for his birthday as a keepsake-he had it on him when he was shot." When he merely nodded, his gaze fixed ahead, she added somewhat tartly: "It seems the 'highwayman' forgot it."

That got her a glance-a warning one.

"Your aunt also mentioned," she plowed on, "that if he was in trouble, Tolly would turn to you first, as head of the family, rather than to his father or Charles. Do you think that the reason he was killed could be the same as his reason for seeking you?"

Devil's gaze sharpened; in that instant, Honoria knew triumph. She'd beaten him to that conclusion, and he thought she was right. He said nothing, however, until they reached the stable yard. Lifting her down, he held her before him. "Don't say anything to Maman or Aunt Louise-there's no need to start hares."

Honoria met his gaze with one of bland hauteur.

"And if you should hear or discover anything, tell me."

She opened her eyes innocently wide. "and you'll tell me whatever you discover?" His expression turned grim. "Don't press your luck Honoria Prudence."

Chapter 8

Two mornings later, Devil descended the main stairs, tugging on his driving gloves. As he started down the last flight, Webster appeared, heading for the front door.

"Your curricle should be waiting, Your Grace."

"Thank you." Reaching the front door, Devil looked back.

Hand on the latch, Webster paused. "Is anything amiss, Your Grace?"