Devil's lips twisted wryly. "I know, Hully, I know. But for God's sake, don't tell Her Grace."
Mollified by his use of his childhood name for her, Mrs. Hull sniffed. "As if I would. You just busy yourself finding whoever was so lost to all proper feeling as to put poison in that decanter-we'll look after Her Grace."
Devil watched her leave, and wondered if any of the three had any idea how much he was entrusting to their care. He'd told them true-he'd faced death many times. Honoria's death he couldn't face at all.
"I'm putting my trust in you to ensure that no harm comes to His Grace." Pacing before the morning-room windows, Honoria sent a raking glance over the three servitors lined up on the rug-Webster, Mrs. Hull, and Sligo. "I assume he's already spoken to you regarding the incident last night?"
All three nodded; Webster acted as spokesman. "His Grace gave us orders to ensure no repetition of the incident, ma'am."
"I'm sure he did." Devil had left the house before she'd awoken, an occurrence delayed by him. He'd kept her awake into the small hours-she'd never known him so demanding. When he'd stirred her awake at dawn, she'd applied herself wholeheartedly to appeasing his considerable appetite, assuming, with what little wit she'd been able to command, that it was some long-overdue realization of his mortality that made him so hungry for life.
She'd expected to discuss the shocking incident of the poison with him over breakfast-instead, she'd missed breakfast altogether.
"It is not my intention to counteract any of His Grace's orders-whatever he has decreed must be done. However"-pausing, she glanced at the three faces before her-"am I right in assuming he gave no orders for his own protection?"
Webster grimaced. "We did make the suggestion, ma'am-unfortunately, His Grace vetoed the idea."
"Flat," Sligo corroborated, his tone making it clear what he thought of that decision.
Mrs. Hull's lips thinned to a prim line. "He always was exceedingly stubborn."
"Indeed." From the way all three were watching her, Honoria knew she had only to say the word. The context, however, was somewhat delicate-she could not, in all conscience, contr
adict her husband's edicts. She looked at Webster. "What was the suggestion His Grace vetoed?"
"I suggested a footman as a guard, ma'am."
Honoria raised her brows. "We have other suitable men in our employ, do we not-men who are not footmen?"
Webster blinked only once. "Indeed, ma'am. From underbutlers to scullery boys."
"And there's the grooms and stablelads, too," Sligo added.
Honoria nodded. "Very well." She met each pair of eyes. "To preserve my peace of mind, you will ensure you are always in a position to tell me where His Grace is at any time while he is absent from this house. Nothing, however, must be done against His Grace's expressed wishes. I trust that's clear?"
Webster bowed. "Indeed, ma'am. I'm sure His Grace would expect us to do all possible to keep you from fretting."
"Precisely. Now, do you have any idea where he is at present?"
Webster and Mrs. Hull shook their heads. Sligo looked at the ceiling. "I believe" he said"-he rocked slightly on his toes-"that the Cap'n's with Mister Vane." Lowering his gaze, he met Honoria's eyes. "At his lodgings in Jermyn Street, ma'am." When Honoria, along with both his peers, looked their question, Sligo opened his eyes wide. "A lad from the stables had to go that way with a message, ma'am."
"I see." For the first time since smelling bitter almonds, Honoria felt a touch of relief. She had allies. "Do you think this stablelad might still be about his business when His Grace leaves his cousin?"
Sligo nodded. "Very likely, ma'am."
Honoria nodded back, decisively, dismissively. "You have your orders, from both myself and His Grace. I'm sure you will carry them out diligently."
Sligo nodded; Mrs. Hull curtsied. Webster bowed low. "You may rely on us, Your Grace."
Chapter 21
Vane stared at Devil, unfeigned horror in his face. "Just how many attempts on your life have there been?"
Devil raised his brows. "If Honoria's supposition is correct, three. There's still nothing to suggest my phaeton was tampered with, but, given these other two episodes, I'm inclined to think she may be right." They were in Vane's parlor; seated at the table, Devil raised a tankard of ale and took a long sip.
Standing before the windows, Vane was still staring."The phaeton, the poison-what was the third?"
"Someone took a shot at me in the park yesterday morning."