Devils Bride (Cynster 1)

Honoria nodded. Silence stretched; eyes on the bushes, she waited, barely breathing. She could feel his gaze, still intense, on her face; she knew when he looked away. Then, with a deep resigned sigh that seemed to come from his boots, he set her hand back on his sleeve, and turned her along the walk. "So-tell me-what have you learned?"

It wasn't the most gracious invitation to collusion, but Honoria decided it would do. "The twins mentioned their last dinner with Tolly when I saw them on Wednesday." Strolling beside him down the secluded walk, she related the twins' description. "I had the impression Tolly and the twins were close. If he was agitated, even if he was trying to hide it, I would have thought they'd have noticed."

Devil nodded. "They would have-they're as sharp as tacks." He grimaced. "Uncle Arthur told me Tolly went there for dinner. He gave me the impression Tolly was somewhat reserved. I'd forgotten how young men react to their fathers-it was probably no more than that."

He fell silent, pacing slowly down the serpentine path; Honoria held her tongue, content to let him ponder her findings. Although he walked by her side, she felt surrounded by his strength. What had Louise said? Unfailingly protective? That was, she had to admit, a comforting trait.

Eventually the rhododendrons ended; the walk debouched onto a wide sweep of lawn. "Your information," Devil said, as they stepped clear of the walk, "narrows the field rather drastically."

"Whatever Tolly learned, whatever sent him to find you, he must have stumbled on it after he left the family that evening." She looked up and saw Devil grimace. "What is it?"

He glanced at her, lips thin, his gaze considering. Then he answered. "Tolly's man went home to Ireland before we could talk to him. He'll know if Tolly was in the boughs when he came in that night." Honoria opened her mouth. "And yes-we're tracking him down. Demon's over there now."

Honoria glanced around, noting the many nursemaids and governesses, charges in tow, dotted across the lawn. "Where are we?"

Devil stopped. "In the nursery section. The rhododendrons keep the darlings out of sight and sound of their fond mamas." He half turned to retrace their steps-an earsplitting cry rent the peace.

"Deyyyyyyyy-vil!"

All heads turned their way, most displaying disapproving expressions. Devil turned back in time to catch Simon as he flung himself against his cousin.

"Hello! Didn't'spect to see you here!"

"I didn't expect to see you either," Devil returned. "Make your bow to Honoria Prudence."

Simon promptly complied. Smiling in return, Honoria noted the boy's ruddy cheeks and bright eyes, and marveled at the resilience of youth. She looked up as two women, the twins, Henrietta, and little Mary came bustling up in Simon's wake. Devil made her known to Mrs. Hawlings, the younger girls' nurse, and Miss Pritchard, the twins' governess.

> "We'd thought to take advantage of the weather while we may," Mrs. Hawlings explained. "The fogs and rains will be here soon enough."

"Indeed." Honoria saw Devil draw Simon aside. She could guess the subject under discussion. Left to deal with-or was that distract?-the governess and nurse, she exchanged polite nothings with a facility born of long practice. The expectant look in the twins' bright eyes as they glanced from her to Devil and back again did not escape her. She could only be thankful they did not voice the question clearly exercising their minds.

The sun found a chink in the clouds and beamed down; the twins and Henrietta fell to weaving daisy chains. Little Mary, her fingers too plump to manage the slim stems, sat beside her sisters on the grass, big blue eyes studying first the three women chatting nearby, then Devil, still talking to Simon. After a long, wide-eyed scrutiny, she picked up her doll and, on sturdy legs, stumped up to Honoria's side.

Honoria didn't know she was there until she felt a small hand slip into hers. Startled, she glanced down. Mary looked up and smiled-confidently, openly trusting-then tightened her pudgy-fingered grip and, looking back at her sisters, leaned against Honoria's legs.

It took all Honoria's years of practice to preserve her composure, to look back at Mrs. Hawlings and Miss Pritchard and continue to converse as if nothing had happened. As if there wasn't a hot, soft hand snuggled into hers, as if there wasn't a soft weight propped against her legs, a soft cheek pressed against her thigh. Luckily, neither woman knew her well enough to know that her expression was not normally so blank.

Then Devil strolled up, one hand on Simon's shoulder. He saw Mary and glanced at Honoria. She kept her expression bland, determinedly uninformative under his sharp-eyed scrutiny; he looked down and held out a hand. Mary dropped Honoria's hand and went to him. Devil swung her up in his arms; Mary clung and snuggled her head down on his shoulder.

Honoria breathed deeply, her gaze locked on little Mary clinging close; the emotions rolling through her, sharp need, poignant desire swamping all fear, left her giddy.

Devil declared it was time for them to go. They made their farewells; as Mrs. Hawlings turned away, Mary in her arms, the little girl wriggled about to wave a pudgy hand. Honoria smiled softly and waved back.

"Come-Sligo's probably organizing a search by now."

Honoria turned; Devil took her hand and tucked it into his elbow, leaving his fingers, warm and strong, over hers. She found his touch both comforting and disturbing as, frowning slightly, she tried to settle her emotions. They walked briskly back to the main carriageway.

The curricle was in sight when Devil spoke. "As a governess, did you ever have younger children in your care?"

Honoria shook her head. "As a finishing governess, my role was specifically restricted to girls a year from their come-out. If the families I worked with had younger children, they always had another, ordinary governess to take charge of them."

Devil nodded, then looked ahead.

The drive back to Grosvenor Square gave Honoria time to marshal her thoughts. Their outing had been unexpectedly productive.

She'd verified Lady Osbaldestone's theory that she was strong enough to influence Devil, even over something he had a deep antipathy to-like her involvement in the search for Tolly's murderer. She'd had it confirmed that she did, very definitely, want to have his child. Of all men, he had to be the best-qualified mate for a woman with her particular fear-and she most assuredly wanted him, arrogant tyrant that he was, worshiping at her feet.

There remained one piece of Lady Osbaldestone's vision she had yet to verify, although he had, from the first, stated that he was marrying her to get her into his bed. Did that qualify as passion? Was that what lay between them?