Said it, declared it, in unequivocal terms, with absolute conviction. Pausing, Devil quaffed half his glass of wine.
It was heady stuff, to know your wife felt that way. About you. That she would face danger without a blink, and refuse to back down, even when faced with sufficient intimidation to break a troop sergeant-all because she loved you.
There was only one snag, one fly in the ointment.
Taking another sip of wine, he returned to his sole. And the dilemma with which he'd spent all morning wrestling. If he told Honoria how he felt about her loving him, if he even acknowledged her declaration, he would simultaneously acknowledge the validity of her "justification" for going into danger. Which was something he could never do.
In times of trouble, as far as he and, he was quite sure, all his ancestors were concerned, Cynster wives were supposed to retreat to the donjon, there to remain in safety while their husbands manned the walls. Honoria's vision was apparently different-she wanted to be on the walls with him.
He understood her point-he simply couldn't accept it.
Explaining that was not going to be easy, not even after he'd made the confession he'd convinced himself he was honor-bound to make.
Feeling vulnerable was bad enough-admitting to vulnerability, out loud, in words, was infinitely worse. And, once said, the words couldn't be taken back. He would, in essence, be handing her a carte blanche of a kind he'd never used before. Given how she reacted to his being in danger, he wasn't at all sure that was wise.
Whether she suspected his state he did not know-he did know he couldn't count on her remaining in blissful ignorance for long. Not his Honoria Prudence. Which meant that the only way he could keep her out of danger was to remove the danger-by laying Tolly's killer by the heels.
Pushing aside his plate, he looked at Vane. "What have you learned?"
Vane grimaced. "Let's go into the smoking room."
They found a deserted nook and settled in; Vane began without preamble. "Basically, I was right. My source has checked every-"
"Excuse me, Your Grace."
They both looked up; one of the club's footmen stood at Devil's elbow, proffering a salver bearing a folded note. "This arrived a moment ago, Your Grace. The man was most insistent it be delivered to you immediately."
"Thank you." Taking the letter, Devil broke the seal, absentmindedly nodding a dismissal. Unfolding the letter, he scanned it-Vane saw his face harden. Devil's eyes flicked back up to the start of the letter, his face unreadable, he read it through again.
"Well?" Vane asked, when Devil looked up.
Devil's brows rose. "Something's come up." He didn't meet Vane's eyes. "An unexpected development." Refolding the letter, he rose. "You'll have to excuse me-I'll send for you as soon as I'm free."
With that, he turned and, putting the letter in one pocket, walked out.
Stunned, Vane stared after him. Then his face hardened. "Honoria Prudence-what the devil have you got up to now?"
*****
"No! Wait! You can't just walk out the door."
"Why not?" Honoria swung around.
Holding a cold compress to the bridge of his nose, Chillingworth followed her up the hall. "Because there's no sense in taking unnecessary chances. Your husband's not going to appreciate this as it is-there's no sense in making things worse." Setting the compress down on the hall table, he looked her over. "Your bonnet's not straight."
Lips compressed, Honoria swung to face the mirror. Adjusting her bonnet, she studied Chillingworth's reflection. He was still very pale; she wasn't sure it was wise to leave him-his servants had not yet returned. On the other hand, she could understand his insistence that she leave without delay. "There!" She turned. "Does that meet with your approval?"
Chillingworth narrowed his eyes. "You'll pass." He met her gaze. "And don't forget-show that note to Devil as soon as you see him. Don't wait for him to ask."
Honoria lifted her chin.
Chillingworth eyed it with open disapproval. "Thank the heavens you're his and not mine. Wait here while I check if anyone's about. Like your grandfather or his butler."
Honoria watched as he opened the door; standing on the front step, he looked up and down the street.
"All clear." Chillingworth held the door open. "Other than your hackney, there's no one in sight."
Head high, Honoria swept out, then stopped and looked back. She frowned. "Don't forget to lie down with your feet higher than your head. And for goodness sake put that compress back, or your eye will be worse tha