"Honoria, if I do not wish you to waltz with a particular gentleman, you won't."
She looked up, a protest on her lips. The undercurrent beneath his words registered, she met his eye-and decided it was safer simply to humph again.
When she looked forward, Devil grinned. He'd enjoyed the evening without reservation; even the emergence of the twins as budding Aphrodites couldn't tarnish his mellow mood. As they turned toward the ducal apartments, he slid his arm about Honoria and drew her against him.
Honoria let him, enjoying his nearness. She remained puzzled by his relationship with Chillingworth. While waltzing with Vane, she'd asked his opinion; he'd smiled. "If they weren't so busy being rivals, they'd be friends." Their rivalry, now she'd viewed it at close quarters, was not entirely facetious, yet neither was it serious. From any distance, however, they appeared deadly rivals.
"Is Charles always so subdued?" She'd noticed him watching as she waltzed with Chillingworth; his expression had been oddly blank.
"Charles? Now there's one who won't approve your innovation-unfettered gaiety was never his strong suit."
"Your other cousins reveled in 'unfettered gaiety.' " Honoria cast him a pointed glance. "Totally unfettered." Each one of the Bar Cynster, excepting only Devil, had disappeared from the festivities at some point, reappearing later with smug, cat-who-had-found-the-cream smiles.
Devil grinned. "Gabriel tendered his felicitations along with the firm hope that you'll make your impromptu ball a yearly event."
Honoria opened her eyes wide. "Are there really that many accommodating ladies within the ton?"
"You'd be surprised," Devil held his door wide.
Honoria threw him a speaking glance, then, nose high, swept over the threshold. But she was smiling as she glided deeper into the room, lit by a fire burning cheerily in the grate. The candelabra held high, dispelling the shadows, Devil crossed to the tallboy, setting the candlestick beside a silver tray holding a crystal decanter and two glasses.
Pouring brandy into one glass, he handed it to Honoria. Warming the glass between her hands, she waltzed to the armchair by the hearth and sank onto its well-stuffed arm. Raising the glass, she breathed in the fumes.
And froze. She blinked. Across the rim of her glass, she saw Devil grasp the second glass, half-full of amber liquid. He raised it.
"No!"
Her breathless shout made him turn. But the glass still rose-any second, he'd swallow his usual first gulp.
Honoria dropped her glass; it fell, amber liquid splashing across the jewel-hued rug. Vocal cords paralyzed, she flung herself at Devil, striking the glass from his grasp. It shattered against the tallboy.
"What-?" Devil lifted her, swinging her clear of the shards raining down. White-faced, Honoria clung to him, her gaze fixed on the liquid dripping down the tallboy.
"What's wrong?" Devil stared at her; when she didn't answer, he looked around, then, grasping her arms, set her from him and looked into her face. "What?"
She drew a shaky breath, then looked into his face. She gulped. "The brandy." Her voice was weak, quavery; she hauled in another breath. "Bitter almonds."
Devil froze-literally. The cold started at his feet and spread upward, claiming muscle after muscle until he was chilled through. His hands fell from Honoria as she pressed close, sliding her arms around him, clinging so tight he could barely breathe. Breathing, indeed, was an effort. For one instant, he stopped altogether-the instant when he realized he'd handed her a glass of poison. His gut clenched tight. He closed his eyes, resting his cheek against her curls, closing his arms about her. Her perfume reached him; he tightened his hold, feeling her body, warm and alive, against his.
Suddenly, Honoria looked up, nearly hitting his chin with her head. "You were nearly killed!" It was an accusation. Her expression mutinous, she clutched his waistcoat, and tried to shake him. "I told you before-I warned you! It's you they're trying to kill."
A conclusion he could hardly argue. "They didn't succeed. Thanks to you." Devil tried to draw her back into his arms. Honoria resisted.
"You were one gulp away from death-I saw you!"
Her eyes were fever-bright, her cheeks flushed. Devil bit back a curse-not at her, but at his would-be murderer. "I'm not dead."
"But you nearly were!" Her eyes flashed blue fire. "How dare they?"
Devil recognized shock when he heard it. "We're both alive."
His calming words fell on deaf ears; Honoria swung away and started to pace. "I can't believe it!" She threw out one hand. "This is utterly wrong!"
Devil followed as she paced toward the bed.
"I won't allow it-I forbid it! You're mine-they can't have you." She swung around; finding him close, she grabbed his lapels. "Do you hear?" Her eyes were silver saucers, sheened with tears. "I am not going to lose you, too."
"I'm here-you won't ever lose me." Devil slid his arms about her; she was so tense she was quivering. "Trust me."