The Taming of Ryder Cavanaugh (The Cynster Sisters Duo 2)

Which thought, unsurprisingly, led to memories of their activities two nights before.

When they’d finally stirred and left his bed, the sense that, regardless of appearances, with her he’d stepped into unfamiliar territory had only intensified. There’d been a pronounced lack of any awkwardness; their admittedly temporary parting had all gone too easily. He’d told himself it was because between them the question of whether they would meet again in a bedroom did not apply, yet . . .

Why that ease had bothered him he had no clue, but getting her safely home had been a simple matter; if her coachman was discreet, his was even more so. But he’d insisted on seeing her into the house, thus learning of the back parlor window she used to gain access.

He hadn’t seen her last night, which the experienced strategist within considered just as well. No reason for her to realize that he was as eager for their second round as she had been for the first. She’d seemed in fine fettle the following morning when he’d taken her for a drive in the park, but from midday yesterday to now she’d been caught up in the whirl of the wedding; he’d used the time to catch up with business, but last night had joined James, most of the Cynster males, and several others in bidding adieu to James’s bachelorhood.

It had been a merry night, one filled with more examples of the familial camaraderie the Cynsters possessed in such abundance and that he craved; he wanted to establish and nurture that same feeling between the Cavanaughs, starting from his generation. Deep in his instinctive warrior-brain, he viewed such a fundamental and emotional linking as a massive strength—one his family lacked.

Beside him, Mary stirred. Before she could direct him, he stepped out, taking her on a perambulation through the gathered guests.

She shot him a glance, but he kept his gaze fixed ahead, feigning obliviousness; he delighted in confounding her, especially when she thought to order him about.

They paused to speak with Lord and Lady Glossup, James’s parents and connections of Ryder’s. The senior Glossups spent most of their time at Glossup Hall in Dorset, but they had traveled to London for the wedding. Their delight in their son’s joy was transparent, and in the company of those present the reclusive pair felt little restraint in allowing their pleasure to show.

As Ryder and Mary moved on, she leaned close and confided, “Henrietta was worried that they might find the crowd difficult, but they seem quite at ease.”

Ryder glanced at her. “They used to spend much more time in the ton, but as the years went by, they grew to prefer the country—Catherine, mostly, but Harold, too.”

“I think Henrietta was more concerned that after the unfortunate incident involving the wife of James’s older brother Henry”—Mary gestured—“Lord and Lady Glossup might find socializing more difficult, but they seem to have recovered, enough at least to do James and Henrietta proud, which is the main thing.”

“Indeed.” Ryder glanced over the heads at a sober gentleman standing quietly by one wall. “Although he put on a brave face for the wedding, Henry still seems . . .”

“Sad,” Mary supplied. “Just that—simply sad. One can only hope he’ll recover.”

Ryder arched a brow at her. “You do realize he’s a connection of mine? And once we wed, you will be the matriarch of the wider family. I would have thought,” he went on, looking ahead, “that you might consider assisting with Henry’s recovery.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Mary’s smile brighten. “What a lovely idea—I hadn’t realized the connection was so definite.”

Ryder nodded, without compunction throwing Henry to her wolf. “Roundabout in a way, but solid.” From all he’d seen, male familial camaraderie invariably involved encouraging those not leg-shackled to surrender to their fate. And if one could earn approval from one’s wife along the way, all the better. “And don’t forget Oswald—James’s younger brother. He’ll assuredly need help.”

“Hmm,” was all Mary said.

Simon hove out of the crowd and waylaid them. “There you are.” He grinned at Mary, then addressed Ryder. “I—” Simon broke off as the Honorable Barnaby Adair joined them.

Barnaby greeted them with his customary debonair charm; Mary knew him well, and Ryder had met him on several occasions since throwing his lot in with the Cynsters.

“We,” Simon resumed, “wondered if you’d got any firm word on who sent those two men to kill you?”

Ryder hadn’t intended to bring up the subject, but . . . “No. St. Ives sent word that Fitzhugh had denied any knowledge, and those who heard him are inclined to believe him—and I’d have to say that would be my reading of the man, too. In the throes of a red-hot rage he might have sent men after me, but he’s not the sort, once he cools down, to lie and deny.”

“No matter the likely repercussions?” Barnaby asked.

Ryder considered, then slowly shook his head. “I would say that, regardless of his temper, Fitzhugh is an honorable man.”

Simon wrinkled his nose. “That was Devil’s view, too.” He met Ryder’s gaze. “So as matters stand we still have no idea who hired those men to kill you, much less why.”

Mary shifted so she could see Ryder’s face. His gaze flicked her way, rested on her eyes; she didn’t need speech to know he would rather she wasn’t exposed to the discussion, but if he thought she would excuse herself and move away—or let the three of them leave her—he could think again.

Apparently doing so, he shifted his gaze to Simon and Barnaby, and after a moment said, “My investigator pushed harder and learned that the man who hired the pair was a shady solicitor, but one working well outside his patch. The investigator paid said solicitor a visit, but only hit an even more definite dead end. The solicitor helpfully described the man who hired him to hire the pair of thugs, but the description would fit thousands of men in ton household staffs.”

Barnaby frowned. “The man who hired the solicitor was a servant?”

Ryder nodded. “No liver

y, of course, and the solicitor thought not upper-level staff, but from the solicitor’s description the man could have been anything from a footman out of uniform to a groom or stableman.”

“Or he could have been someone hired to hire the solicitor, and so on.” Simon shook his head. “Our chances of finding such a man amid the thousands . . .”