Devils Bride (Cynster 1)

"I'll be back for dinner."

Which was all very well, but dinner was hours away.

Honoria stared at the door. Something was about to happen-she could feel it in her bones. A chill stole down her spine; she shivered, but didn't let go of her disturbing thoughts. Yet she could identify no action, nothing she could do to avert the impending doom. She was impotent. Helpless.

A tap on the door interrupted her dismal reverie. Sligo entered, balancing a tray. "Mrs. Hull thought as you might like her special tea. Makes it up herself, she does." He set the tray on the sidetable and deftly poured a cup.

Honoria's instant reaction was a definite veto-her stomach felt as fragile as her mental state. The soothing aroma that rose with the steam changed her mind.

"Chamomile, it is." Sligo handed her the cup.

Honoria took it and sipped, then remembered the groom. "How is Carter?"

"Better. Got a lump the size of an egg, but the Cap'n thanked him special this morning-Carter says as how he hardly feels it now."

"Good. Please convey my thanks to him as well." Honoria sipped. "Did Carter have any idea where the men who attacked His Grace hailed from?"

Sligo fiddled with the doily on the tray. "Not as such. He did say they looked like sailors."

Honoria fixed her gaze on his face. "Sligo-did Carter overhear anything?"

Sligo shifted. "He heard the two he followed agree to meet up later at the Anchor's Arms."

"The Anchor's Arms?"

"A tavern by the docks."

&n

bsp; A demon prodded Honoria to act; she ignored it. "Has His Grace been informed of Carter's recollections?"

"No, ma'am. Carter only fully came to his wits an hour ago."

Honoria chose the course of wisdom. "Inform His Grace immediately of Carter's information."

Sligo bit his lip and shifted his weight.

Honoria studied his unprepossessing features in dawning disbelief. "Sligo-where is he?"

Sligo straightened. "The Cap'n must've fallen to our plan. When the lads set out to follow 'im this morning, he lost 'em. Neat as you please."

"Neat!" Honoria sat bolt upright. "There's nothing neat about it."

Here they were, with a potentially valuable avenue to explore, and her husband had taken himself off. Away from their watchful eyes. She handed Sligo her teacup, inwardly congratulating herself on not having thrown it. She wasn't so lost to all sense as to wax hysterical over someone trying to kill Devil in the middle of London during the day. She did, however, want his would-be-murderer caught without delay. Narrow-eyed, she considered Sligo. "Where does His Grace normally lunch?"

"One of his clubs, ma'am-White's, Waitier's, or Boodles."

"Send footmen to wait at all three. They are to inform His Grace immediately he arrives that I wish to speak with him as soon as may be."

"Very good, ma'am."

Chapter 22

By two, Honoria had started to pace. At four, she summoned Sligo.

"Have you located His Grace?"

"No, ma'am. I've men at White's, Waitier's, and Boodles-we'll know the instant he shows."