Devils Bride (Cynster 1)

Honoria kept her eyes on his, refusing all other distractions. "In the park?"

His eyes opened wide. "Where else?"

Honoria glanced at her letter, in which she'd carefully skirted the truth. It was too early to make any admission-she wasn't yet sure where she stood. She looked at Devil. "Perhaps you could frank my letter while I change?"

He nodded. Honoria moved past him; without a backward glance, she retreated to her bedchamber.

Ten minutes later, clad in topaz twill, she returned to find him standing before one window, hands behind his back, her letter held between his long fingers. He turned as she approached. As always, whenever he saw her anew, his gaze swept her, possessively, from head to toe.

"Your letter." He presented the folded parchment with a flourish.

Honoria took it, noting the bold black script decorating one corner. It was, she would swear, the same script that had adorned the note Celestine had, so opportunely, received.

"Come. Webster will put it in the post."

As they traveled the long corridors, Honoria inwardly frowned. Celestine had not sent in her bill. It was over a week since the last gowns had arrived.

With her letter entrusted into Webster's care, they headed for the park, Sligo, as usual, up behind. Their progress down the fashionable avenue was uneventful beyond the usual smiles and nods; her appearance in Devil's curricle no longer created any great stir.

As they left the main knot of carriages, Honoria shifted-and glanced frowningly at Devil. "What are they going to say when I don't marry you?" The question had been bothering her for the past three days.

The look he shot her matched her own. "You are going to marry me."

"But what if I don't?" Honoria stubbornly fixed her gaze on his equally stubborn profile. "You ought to start considering that." The ton could be quite vicious; until Lady Osbaldestone's sermon, she'd viewed him as an adversary comfortably impervious to the slings and arrows of society. Her ladyship had changed her perspective; she was no longer comfortable at all. "I've warned you repeatedly that I'm unlikely to change my mind."

His sigh was full of teeth-gritted impatience. "Honoria Prudence, I don't give a damn what anyone says except you. And all I want to hear from you is 'Yes.' And as for our wedding, its occurrence is far more likely than you getting within sight of Cairo, let alone the Great Sphinx!"

His accents left no doubt that the subject was closed. Honoria stuck her nose in the air and stared haughtily down at a group of innocent passersby.

Grim silence reined until, the turn accomplished, they headed back toward the fashionable throng. Slanting a glance at Devil's set face, Honoria heard Lady Osbaldestone's words: make it work. Was it possible? Fixing her gaze in the distance, she airily inquired: "Was Tolly particularly good at hiding his feelings?"

Devil stared at her-she could feel his green gaze, sharp and penetrating; stubbornly, she kept her face averted. The next instant, they were drawing in to the verge. The carriage rocked to a halt; Sligo rushed to the horses' heads.

"Hold 'em-wait here." With that terse command, Devil tied off the reins, stood, stepped past her, and jumped to the ground. Fluidly, he turned and plucked her from the seat. Ignoring her gasp, he set her on her feet, hauled her hand through his arm, and strode off across the lawn.

Honoria hung on to her hat. "Where are we going?"

Devil shot her a black glance. "Somewhere we can talk freely."

"I thought you said Sligo was half-deaf?"

"He is-others aren't." Devil scowled discouragingly at a party of young people. The fashionable throng was rapidly thinning, left behind in their wake. "Anyway, Sligo knows all about Tolly and our search."

Honoria's eyes narrowed-then flew wide. The rhododendron walk loomed ahead. "I thought you said we were to observe the strictures?"

"Wherever possible," Devil growled, and whisked her into the deserted walk. Screened by the thick bushes, he halted and swung to face her. "Now!" Eyes narrowed, he captured her gaze. "Why the devil do you want to know if Tolly was a dab hand at hiding his feelings?"

Chin up, Honoria met his gaze-and tried not to notice how very big he was. He was tall enough and broad enough to screen her completely-even if someone strolled up on them, all they would see of her was a wisp of skirt. She tipped her chin higher. "Was he-or wasn't he?"

The eyes boring into hers were crystal-clear, his gaze sharp as a surgeon's knife. She saw his jaw clench; when he spoke, his voice was a deep feral growl. "Tolly couldn't dissemble to save himself. He never learned the knack."

"Hmm." Honoria shifted her gaze to the bushes.

"Why did you want to know?"

She shrugged. "I just…" She glanced up-her glib reply died on her lips, slain by the look in his eye. Her heart leapt to her throat; determinedly, she swallowed it. "I just thought it was of interest that he spent the evening before he was shot playing with his brother and sisters, apparently in excellent spirits." Elevating her nose, she let her gaze drift over the glossy green leaves.

Devil stared at her. "He did?"