Devils Bride (Cynster 1)

"You're still positive it's something vital?"

"Oh, yes." His expression grim, Devil rose. "It was something so vital I noticed it particularly, but Tolly dying wiped it from my mind."

Vane grimaced. "It'll come back."

Devil met his eyes. "But will it come back in time?"

*****

Firm footsteps approached the morning room; Honoria left the window and sat on the chaise. She'd spent the day methodically analyzing the attempts on Devil's life. And had reached the only logical conclusion. While her immediate impulse was to lay her findings before Devil, further consideration had suggested he might not, in this case, accept her conclusion readily. After considerable cogitation, she'd sent a message to the one person she knew he trusted without question.

Her "Come in" coincided with a peremptory knock. The door opened; Vane strolled in. His gaze found her; closing the door, he strolled forward, his gait reminiscent of Devil's prowl. "How are you?"

Honoria grimaced. "Distracted."

He nodded and sat in the chair facing her. "How can I help?" One brown brow rose. "Your note said the matter was urgent."

Lips compressed, Honoria studied his face. "I've been thinking over all that's happened. There has to be a reason someone's trying to kill Devil."

His gaze on her face, Vane nodded. "Go on."

"There's only one compelling reason I know of connecting Devil and a person who would know enough to tamper with his phaeton and put poison in his brandy. The inheritance-which, after all, is more than considerable. That might also explain why the attacks only started after it became obvious we would wed."

Light dawned in Vane's face. "Of course. I've been concentrating on Tolly-I didn't think of that angle."

"You agree?" Honoria leaned forward. "You agree it must be Richard?"

Vane stared in blank astonishment. "Richard?"

Honoria frowned. "Devil's heir."

"Ah." Swiftly, Vane searched her face. "Honoria, your logic's impeccable-unfortunately, Devil's neglected to give you all the details necessary to arrive at the correct outcome." He hesitated, then shook his head. "I'm sorry, but it's not my place to explain-you'll have to ask Devil."

Honoria eyed him straitly. "Ask him what?"

Vane's eyes turned hard. "Ask him who his heir is."

"It's not Richard?"

Lips compressed, Vane rose. "I must go-but promise me you'll tell Devil your conclusions."

Honoria's eyes flashed. "I can give you an absolute assurrance on that point."

"Good." Vane met her gaze. "If it makes it any easier, I'd wager he's already followed the same train of thought."

"You think he knows?" Honoria held out her hand.

"He knows, but, as he does with such matters, he won't say until he's sure-until he has proof." Vane released Honoria's hand. "By your leave, I've an idea to pursue-the sooner we get your husband the proof he requires, the sooner we'll be free of this murderer."

Unwilling to do anything to delay that outcome, Honoria nodded and let him go. Long after the door had closed behind him, she sat staring at the panels, unable to make head or tail of what was going on.

Cynsters-a law unto themselves. With a disgusted humph, she stood and headed upstairs to change.

His Grace of St. Ives dined at home that evening. Honoria waited until they retired, then stripped off her gown, donned her nightgown, scurried like an eager chambermaid into the ducal chamber, dropped her peignoir, kicked off her slippers, and scrambled beneath the covers.

&n

bsp; From the other side of the room, engaged in untying his cravat, Devil watched her performance with interest-an interest she ignored. Propped against the pillows, she fixed her gaze on his face. "I've been thinking."