He obeyed-reluctantly; the second Honoria's feet touched earth, the Dowager took her arm. "Come, my dear-there's someone I want you to meet."
Without a backward glance, Honoria escaped with the Dowager.
She took care to play least-in-sight for the rest of the day. While most guests left directly after the wake, many of the family lingered. Honoria had no intention of finding herself unexpectedly alone with Devil in his present mood. The summerhouse, a white-timber hexagon wreathed by a yellow rambler, became her refuge.
Her embroidery in her lap, she watched the carriages roll down the drive-watched Devil play the host and wave them on their way. Afternoon was fading to evening when Charles Cynster descended the front steps and started across the lawn, heading straight for the summerhouse.
Inclining his head gravely, he entered. "Good evening, my dear. I wanted to speak with you before I left-Sylvester told me where to find you."
So much for her refuge. Honoria studied Tolly's older brother critically. He was certainly older than Devil, which made him the oldest of the Cynster cousins. He cut an impressive figure, six feet tall and solidly built, but lacked the lean Cynster lines. His face was rounder, with heavy jowls. His eyes, resting on her, were plain brown; given his recent loss, Honoria was surprised by how intent his expression was.
The summerhouse boasted a long wickerwork settee with chintz cushions, and nothing else. With a wave, she invited Charles to sit; somewhat to her relief, he declined the settee to settle on a windowsill. Facing her. Honoria raised a polite brow. Presumably, Devil had sent Charles to persuade her to leave Tolly's death to the Cynsters.
"I wanted to thank you for aiding Tolly. Sylvester mentioned you'd helped." Charles's lips twisted in a fleeting smile. "To use his phrase, 'above and beyond what might reasonably be expected of a lady of your station.'"
Graciously, Honoria inclined her head. "Despite your cousin's beliefs, I did nothing more than any lady of practical sensibilities."
"Be that as it may…" Charles's words trailed away; Honoria glanced up and met his gaze. "My dear Miss Anstruther-Wetherby, I hope you will excuse me if I speak plainly?"
"I would prefer you did so." Setting aside her embroidery, Honoria folded her hands and gave him her full attention.
"It appears to me that, rather than being rewarded for your help, you have been placed in an invidious position." Charles glanced at her. "Forgive me-this is a delicate subject. But I understand that, by virtue of rendering assistance to Tolly and thus being stranded by the storm, you were forced to spend the night in company with Sylvester, and thus now find yourself compromised and, not to put too fine a point on it, forced to accept his offer."
Honoria opened her lips-Charles raised his hand. "No, if you please-allow me to finish. I realize that many ladies would be aux anges over becoming the duchess of St. Ives, whatever the circumstances. I can see, however, that you are not of that giddy ilk. You're an Anstruther-Wetherby, daughter of an old and ancient line-quite as proud as we Cynsters. You are a woman of sound sense, independence, and-as you acknowledged-of a practical bent.
"You have, I believe, chosen to live life quietly-it hardly seems fair that in return for your good offices, you should be forced to become Sylvester's wife, a role that will not only be dem
anding but also very likely less than rewarding." He paused, then added: "For a lady of sensitivity." He hesitated, weighing his words, then continued: "Sylvester bears a very specific reputation, as do most of the Cynsters. It seems unlikely that a leopard so devoted to hunting will readily change his spots."
He looked at Honoria; she raised her brows haughtily. "There is little in your assessment with which I would argue, Mr. Cynster."
Charles's brief smile did not light his eyes. "Indeed, my dear, I believe we are two who would understand each other well, which is why I hope you will understand my motives in proposing an alternative solution to your undeserved predicament."
"An alternative?" Honoria was conscious of increasing unease. She had not expected Charles to undermine Devil; she was truly surprised that he had.
"A more acceptable alternative to a lady of your sensibility."
Honoria looked her question.
"Marrying Sylvester would not be in your best interests-anyone with understanding can see that. You stand, however, in need of an offer, in restitution if nothing else. As Tolly was my brother, in order to retrieve your standing, I would be happy to offer you my hand. My estate, of course, is nothing compared to Sylvester's; it is, however, not inconsiderable."
Honoria was stunned; only years of training kept the fact from her face. She did not have to think to frame her reply-the words came spontaneously to her lips. "I thank you for your offer, sir, but I am not of a mind to marry-not for this nor, indeed, any other foreseeable reason."
Charles's face blanked. After a moment, he asked, "You don't intend to accept Sylvester's offer?"
Lips compressed, Honoria shook her head. "I have no intention of marrying at all." With that firm declaration, she reached for her embroidery.
"You will be pressured to accept Sylvester's offer-both by the Cynsters and your own family."
Honoria's eyes flashed; she raised her brows haughtily. "My dear sir, I am not at all amenable to unwarranted interference in my life."
Silence ensued, then Charles slowly stood. "I apologize, Miss Anstruther-Wetherby, should I have given offense." He paused, then added: "However, I urge you to remember that, should a time come when you feel it necessary to marry to escape the situation arising from Tolly's death, you have an alternative to marrying Sylvester."
Engrossed in jabbing her needle into her canvas, Honoria did not look up.
"Your humble servant, Miss Anstruther-Wetherby." Barely glancing at Charles's bow, Honoria stiffly inclined her head. Charles turned on his heel and descended the steps; Honoria watched, narrow-eyed, as he returned to the house. When he disappeared, she frowned and wriggled her shoulders.
If she ever had to marry a Cynster, she'd rather try taming the tyrant.