"The only way we can-by letting him show his hand."
"So what's our next move?" Vane handed the note back to Devil.
"Our next move is to make our own plans, which must include all the right actions to make Charles believe his plan is succeeding. In any good play, the villain only reveals himself in the last scene; Charles won't appear unless we, the intended victims, play out the earlier scenes correctly." Devil glanced at Vane, leaning forward, intent, then looked at Honoria, calmly expectant by his side. He smiled, coldly. "We've already completed the opening scene in our melodrama. For the next…"
At six o'clock the next morning, wreathed in mist, two tall figures, pistol in hand, faced each other on Paddington Green. Their seconds stood aside; a scrap of white drifted down. Two shots rang out. One of the principals crumpled to the ground; the other, clothed in black, waited while the doctor swooped down on his patient, then handed his pistol to his second and stiffly turned away.
He and his second climbed into a black, unmarked carriage and departed the scene.
The third scene in the tragedy was played out later that morning.
Gentlefolk taking their morning stroll in Grosvenor Square-nurses and their charges, governesses and young misses, old and young alike-all witnessed the unexpected sight of the St. Ives traveling carriage rolling into the square. It drew up before St. Ives Hou
se; an army of footmen descended to strap on a mountain of luggage.
Diverted, many watched, wondering, then the door opened; His Grace of St. Ives, his face like stone, appeared, leading a heavily veiled woman. Given her height, there were few who did not recognize his duchess; her stiff manner and the way she held her head led most to speculate that there'd been some falling-out, some possibly scandalous rift in what had, until then, appeared a remarkably felicitous relationship.
Before a host of round eyes, the duke handed the duchess into the carriage and followed her in. A footman shut the door; the coachman whipped up his horses.
The word was winging, on whispers uttered with wide eyes, on hushed confidences traded behind elegantly gloved hands, long before the carriage had quit the fashionable precincts. The St. Iveses had left London unexpectedly, just before the beginning of the Season. What was the ton to think?
Predictably, the ton thought-and said-precisely what had been intended.
Four powerful blacks drew the St. Ives carriage rapidly into Cambridgeshire. Leaning against Devil's shoulder, Honoria watched the countryside flash by. "I've been thinking."
Devil opened his eyes only enough to look down at her. "Oh?"
"We'll have to give a formal ball as soon as we return to town. To dispel the mistaken impression we've been at such pains to instill."
Devil's lips twitched. "You'll have to invite Chillingworth, of course."
Honoria flicked him a warning glance. "I suppose, that's unavoidable."
"Quite." Devil studied the weak sunlight playing across her features. "Incidentally, I should warn you that, despite its being midnight, it's possible someone might have seen me at the palace last night." The unknown Cynster had proved to be Charles; the madam's story had been utterly convincing.
Honoria lifted a haughty shoulder. "If any should think to mention your presence there to me, I can assure you they'll meet with a very cool reception."
Observing the imperious tilt of her chin, Devil decided it was unlikely even the most thick-skinned gabblemonger would dare-his wife was fast becoming as matriarchally intimidating as his mother.
"Do you think anyone was watching at Paddington Creep this morning?" Honoria asked.
"Gabriel spotted a fellow resembling Charles's new man, Smiggs."
"So we assume Charles knows you and Chillingworth met?"
"It's a reasonable bet." Devil settled her more comfortably against him. "Try to rest." When she looked at him blankly, he added: "Tomorrow might be exhausting."
Honoria frowned vaguely. "I'm not sleepy." She looked away and so missed Devil's exasperated grimace.
After a moment, he ventured: "I just thought-'
"When do you think Charles'll appear?"
Devil inwardly sighed. "Either tonight, in which case he'll come up to the house and announce his presence, or sometime tomorrow, in which case he might not." When was she going to tell him? "I'll send a couple of grooms to Cambridge, to warn us the instant he arrives there."
"You think he'll use his usual route?"
"There's no reason for him to do otherwise." Studying her profile, noting her firm, not to say resolute, chin, Devil stated: "Incidentally, whatever transpires, you'll need to keep one point uppermost in your mind."