Lady Osbaldestone finally consented to release Honoria; she glanced up at the newcomer. "Good afternoon, Emily. I was merely giving Miss Anstruther-Wetherby the benefit of my experienced counsel." She waved Honoria to her feet. "Off you go-and remember what I said. And take those cakes away-they're fattening."
Shaken, her features stiff, Honoria bobbed a curtsy to Emily, Lady Cowper, then, head high, let the crowd swallow her. Unfortunately, many ladies were waiting to waylay her, to quiz her on her new relationship.
"Has St. Ives taken you to Richmon
d yet? The trees are quite lovely at present."
"And where are you planning to spend the festive season, my dear?"
Sidestepping such inquiries required tact and skill, difficult with her mind reeling from Lady Osbaldestone's lecture. Spying Amanda and Amelia half-hidden by a palm, Honoria sought refuge with them. Their eyes lit up when they saw the cake plate; she handed it over without comment.
"Mama said we should come and see what 'at homes' are like," Amanda said around a miniature currant bun.
"We're to be brought out next year," Amelia added.
Honoria watched them eat. "How are you?"
Both girls looked up, openly, without any trace of pain. They both screwed up their faces in thought, then Amanda offered: "All right, I think."
"We keep expecting him to come for dinner-just like he always did." Amelia looked down and picked up a last crumb.
Amanda nodded. "Laughing and joking, just like that last night."
Honoria frowned. "Last night?"
"The night before he was shot."
Honoria blinked. "Tolly came to dinner the night before he died?"
Amelia nodded. "He was in great spirits-he usually was. He played spillikins with the young ones, then after dinner, we all played Speculation. It was great fun."
"That's…" Honoria blinked again. "Nice-I mean, that you have such good memories of him."
"Yes." Amanda nodded. "It is nice." She appeared to dwell on the fact, then looked at Honoria. "When are you going to marry Devil?"
The question hit Honoria right in the chest. She looked into the twins' eyes, four orbs of innocent blue, and cleared her throat. "We haven't decided."
"Oh," they chorused, and smiled benignly.
Honoria beat a hasty retreat and headed for an empty alcove. Inwardly, she cursed. First Lady Osbaldestone, now Tolly's sisters. Who else was lining up to shake her resolution? The answer was unexpected.
"How are you coping with being absorbed into the clan?"
The soft question had Honoria turning, to meet Louise Cynster's still-weary eyes. Tolly's mother smiled. "It takes a little getting used to, I know."
Honoria drew a deep breath. "It's not that." She hesitated, then, encouraged by Louise's calm expression, forged on: "I haven't actually agreed to marry Devil-just to consider the idea." With a gesture that encompassed the room, she added: "I feel like a fraud."
To her relief, Louise didn't laugh or turn the comment lightly aside. Instead, after a moment scrutinizing her face, she put a hand on her arm. "You're not certain, are you?"
"No." Her voice was barely a whisper. After a minute, she added: "I thought I was." It was the truth-plain, unvarnished; the realization left her stunned. What had he-they-done to her? What had happened to Africa?
"It's normal to feel hesitant." Louise spoke reassuringly, with no hint of condescension. "Especially in such a case, where the decision is so much your own." She glanced at Honoria. "My own case was similar. Arthur was there, ready to lay his heart and all that came with it at my feet-everything hung on my whim." Her lips curved, her gaze becoming lost in reminiscence. "It's easy to make decisions when no one but yourself is involved, but when there are others to consider, it's natural to question your judgment. Particularly if the gentleman concerned is a Cynster." Her smile deepened; she glanced again at Honoria. "Doubly so if he's Devil Cynster."
"He's a tyrant," Honoria declared.
Louise laughed. "You'll get no argument from me on that score. All the Cynsters are dictatorially inclined, but Devil dictates to all the rest."
Honoria humphed. "He's inflexible-and far too used to getting his own way."