Honoria sighed. "Very well-but you'll have to remain in the carriage."
The hatch above opened; the jarvey peered down. "We goin' somewhere? Or did you just want to use me carriage for a chat?"
Honoria silenced him with a glare. "Green Street. Drive along it slowly-I'll tell you where to stop."
"Right you are." The jarvey dropped the hatch; an instant later, they were off.
Green Street was where her grandfather lived, at Number 13. Number 17 was closer to the park. The jarvey walked his horse along; Honoria studied the facades. Number 17 was an elegant residence, a gentleman's abode. She waited until they'd passed two more houses before saying: "Have the jarvey pull up. Wait for me here."
Sligo relayed her orders. The hackney drew up; Sligo leapt down and helped her out. Beside the hackney, screened from Number 17 on the other side of the road, Honoria fixed Sligo with a commanding look. "Wait for me here-inside the carriage."
Sligo blinked. "Shouldn't I walk you to the door?"
"Sligo, this is Green Street, not Billingsgate. You will stay in the carriage."
Mournfully, Sligo nodded; Honoria waited until he resumed his seat, then turned on her heel, walked back a short distance, and swiftly crossed the road. Briskly determined, she climbed the steps of Number 17. Reaching for the knocker, she froze, her hand in midair. The brass knocker was a sylph-a naked sylph. Honoria frowned, then closed her gloved hand about the indiscreet figure and beat an imperious tattoo.
She waited, clutching her reticule, trying not to think of the expletives her husband would utter when he read her letter-she hoped the committee of White's would understand. Then footsteps approached on the other side of the door. Not the measured tread of a well-trained butler but a slow, familiar, prowling gait. Even before the door opened, Honoria knew she would not be facing a butler.
When she saw who held the door wide, her jaw dropped.
The earl of Chillingworth's jaw dropped, too.
For one instant, they stood stock-still, staring at each other. Honoria mentally reeled, possibilities and conjectures whirling wildly.
Then Chillingworth scowled. "For God's sake, don't just stand there! Someone might see you."
Honoria blinked dazedly and remained rooted to his front step. Smothering a growl, Chillingworth grabbed her arm and hauled her inside. He shut the door, then faced her.
Although he was not as tall as Devil, Chillingworth was not a small man. In the narrow hall, Honoria was acutely conscious of that fact. Straightening, without a clue as to what was going on, she fixed him with an imperious look. "Where's your butler?"
Chillingworth returned her look with one she found unreadable. "My butler is out. As are the rest of my staff." Honoria's eyes widened; grimly, Chillingworth shook his head. "I can't believe you're serious." He searched her face, her eyes.
Honoria tilted her chin defiantly. "Of course I'm serious."
Chillingworth's expression showed a medley of disbelief and disillusionment, then hardened into a mask very like his greatest rival's. Fluidly, he shrugged. "If you insist."
Without further ado, he bent his head to Honoria's.
Uttering a strangled shriek, she jerked back and hit him.
*****
Just before two o'clock, Devil had absentmindedly climbed the steps of White's. On the threshold, he'd literally run into Vane.
"There you are!" Vane had dropped back. "Where in all hell have you been? I've been looking all over."
Devil had grinned. "Surprising you didn't find me then, for that's where I've been. All over."
Frowning, Vane opened his lips-Devil waved the question aside. "Have you eaten?"
Still frowning, Vane nodded. Devil handed his cane to the doorkeeper; Vane did the same. "I'll talk while you eat."
The dining room was companionably crowded with gentlemen lingering over their brandies. Served with remarkable promptness, Devil started on the sole-and lifted an inquiring brow.
Vane grimaced at the bodies about them. "I'll tell you later."
Devil nodded and applied himself to his meal, pleased to have an excuse not to talk. Explaining why he'd spent the whole morning roaming the town, exercising the two grooms Sligo had set to tail him, was beyond him. He suspected it would always be beyond him-his affliction wasn't improving with time. And he could hardly tell Vane he was avoiding his wife because she'd said she loved him.