He made no answer; flicking the reins, he sent the horses back along the avenue.
Honoria's head was so high she nearly missed seeing the gentleman standing by the verge; he raised his cane in greeting, then waved it.
Devil checked his team, drawing them to a stamping halt by the lawn's edge. "Good afternoon, Charles."
Charles Cynster inclined his head. "Sylvester." His gaze traveled to Honoria. "Miss Anstruther-Wetherby."
Resisting an instinctive retreat to haughtiness, Honoria returned his nod. "Sir. Might I inquire how your family is faring?" Charles wore the customary black armband, easily seen against his brown coat. Devil likewise wore the badge of mourning, virtually invisible against his black sleeve. Honoria leaned down and gave Charles her hand. "I've yet to meet your brother and sisters since coming to town."
"They are…" Charles hesitated. "Well, I think." He met Honoria's eyes. "Recovering from the shock. But how are you? I admit to surprise at seeing you here. I had thought your plans were otherwise?"
Honoria smiled-feelingly. "They are. This"-she gestured airily-"is merely a temporary arrangement. I've agreed to remain with the Dowager for three months. After that, I plan to begin my preparations for Africa. I'm considering a prolonged sojourn-there's so much to see." Her smile grew brittle. "And do."
"Indeed?" Charles frowned vaguely. "I believe there's a very good exhibition at the museum. If Sylvester's too busy to escort you, pray call on me. As I assured you before, I'll always hold myself ready to assist you in any way I can."
Regally, Honoria inclined her head.
After promising to convey their regards to his family, Charles stepped back. With a flick of his wrist, Devil set his horses trotting. "Honoria Prudence, you would try the patience of a saint."
Irritation ran beneath his smooth tones. "You," Honoria declared, "are no saint."
"A point you would do well to bear in mind."
Quelling a most peculiar shiver, Honoria stared straight ahead.
They ran the gauntlet-the long line of stationary carriages holding the grandes dames of the ton-once more, then Devil turned his horses for home. By the time they reached Grosvenor Square, Honoria had refocused on her day's objective. The objective she had yet to attain.
Devil drew up before his door. Throwing the reins to Sligo, he alighted and lifted Honoria down. By the time she caught her breath, she was on the porch; his front stoop, she decided, was no place for an argument.
The door opened; Devil followed her inside. The hall seemed crowded; as well as Webster, Lucifer was there.
"You're early."
Honoria glanced at Devil, surprised by the disapproval she detected in his tone. Lucifer's brows had quirked in surprise, but he smiled charmingly as he bowed over her hand. Straightening, he looked at Devil. "In recompense, if you will, for my previous absence."
Previous absence? Honoria looked at Devil.
His expression gave nothing away. "You'll have to excuse us, my dear. Business demands our attention."
Business her left foot. Honoria raced through her options, searching for some acceptable way to remain with them. There wasn't one. Swallowing a curse, she inclined her head regally, first to her nemesis, then to his cousin, then turned and glided up the stairs.
"I hesitate to state the obvious, but we're getting nowhere. I, for one, am finding failure a mite tedious." A general growl of agreement greeted Gabriel's pronouncement. All six cousins were present, long limbs disposed in various poses about Devil's library.
"Speaking personally," Vane drawled, "I'd prefer to have failure to report. As it is, Old Mick, longtime servitor to the second family, has departed these fair shores."
Harry frowned. "He's left England?"
"So Charles informs me." Vane flicked a speck of lint from his knee. "I went to Tolly's lodgings and found them relet. According to the landlord, who lives downstairs, Charles turned up the day after Tolly's funeral. No one had told Mick about Tolly-he was, needless to say, cut up."
Richard whistled soundlessly. "He'd been with the family forever-he was devoted to Tolly."
Vane inclined his head. "I assumed Charles would have ensured Mick was told in time to come up for the funeral-he must have been more distraught than we realized. As it transpired, there was something of a scene. According to the landlord, Mick stormed out. According to Charles, Mick was so cut up over Tolly's death that he decided to quit London and return to his family in Ireland."
Harry looked wary. "Do we know Mick's surname?"
"O'Shannessy," Richard supplied.
Devil frowned. "Do we know where his family live?"