"Why?"
Michael met his eyes. "She told you our parents were killed in a carriage accident?"
Devil searched his memory. "That they were killed in an accident."
"There was rather more to it than that." Michael drew a deep breath. "Neither Honoria nor I are frightened of storms-at least, we weren't. On that day, our parents took the other two for a drive."
"Other two?" Devil slowed his pace.
Michael looked up. "Meg and Jemmy. Our brother and sister." Devil halted, his expression blank. Michael stopped and faced him. "She didn't tell you about them?"
Devil shook his head; abruptly, he focused on Michael. "Tell me exactly what happened."
Michael looked away, across the lawns toward the house. "The pater wanted to take Mama for a drive-it started as a lovely day. Mama had been ill-she was going through one of her better patches-Papa wanted her to get some air. The little ones went with them. Honoria and I stayed home-we couldn't fit and we both had studies to attend to. Then the storm blew up-raced in out of nowhere. Honoria and I loved watching the clouds roll in. We ran up to the schoolroom to watch."
He paused, his gaze distant, fixed in the past. "The schoolroom was in the attics, overlooking the drive. We stood at the window and looked out. We never dreamed…" He swallowed. "We were laughing and joking, listening for the thunder, trying to spot the flashes. Then there was a massive crash overhead. In the same instant, we saw the curricle come racing up the drive. The children were frantic, clinging to Mama. The horses had panicked-Papa had his hands full managing them." He paused. "I can see them so clearly, even now. Then the lightning struck."
When he said nothing more, Devil prompted: "The carriage?"
Michael shook his head. "The bolt hit a huge elm beside the drive. It fell." Again he paused, then, drawing a deep breath, went on: "We watched it fall. The others didn't see it at first-then they did." He shuddered. "I closed my eyes, but I don't think Honoria did. She saw it all."
Devil gave him a moment, then asked: "They were killed?"
"Instantly." Michael drew a shaky breath. "I can still hear the horses screaming. We had to put them down."
Very gently, Devil said: "Go back-what happened to Honoria?"
Michael blinked. "Honoria? When I opened my eyes, she was standing, absolutely still, before the window. Then she stretched out her hands and stepped forward. I grabbed her and pulled her away. She clung to me then." He shivered. "That's the one thing I remember most vividly-how she cried. She made no sound-the tears just rolled down her cheeks, as if her sorrow was so deep she couldn't even sob." After a pause, he added: "I don't think I'll ever forget how helpless her crying made me feel."
Devil didn't think he'd ever forget either.
Shoulders lifting on a deep breath, Michael glanced fully at Devil. "That's the sum of it-we sorted things out and got on with our lives. Of course, the loss was worse for Honoria." He fell in beside Devil as they continued toward the house. "As Mama had been so ill, Honoria had become more mother than sister to the younger two. Losing them was like losing her own children, I think."
Devil was silent as they crossed the last of the lawn; he glanced up as they neared the portico, briefly studying the inscription on its facade. Then he glanced at Michael. "You need a drink." He needed one, too. Then he needed to think.
Honoria was descending the main staircase, a frown puckering her brows, when the front door opened and her brother walked in.
"Michael!" Face clearing, she hurried down. "I've been expecting you for hours." Hugging him, she returned his affectionate buss. "I saw a carriage arrive and thought it must be you, but no one came in. I was wondering-" She broke off as a large shadow darkened the doorway.
Michael looked over his shoulder. "St. Ives was good enough to meet me. He's explained the situation."
"He has? I mean-" Her gaze trapped in crystal green, Honoria fought the urge to gnash her teeth. "How very helpful." She noted Devil's expression of guileless innocence-it sat very ill on his piratical features.
"You're looking well." Michael scanned her amethyst morning gown. "Not browbeaten at all."
Even with her gaze firmly fixed on her brother's teasing face, Honoria was aware of Devil's raised brow-and of the color that seeped into her cheeks. Tilting her chin, she linked her arm in Michael's. "Come and meet the Dowager." She steered him toward the drawing room. "Then we'll go for a walk in the grounds." So she could set the record straight.
To her chagrin, Devil strolled after them.
The Dowager looked up as they entered. With a brilliant smile, she laid aside her embroidery and held out her hand. "Mr. Anstruther-Wetherby-it is good to meet you at last. I trust your journey was without mishap?"
"Entirely, ma'am." Michael bowed over her hand. "It's indeed a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
"Bon!" The Dowager beamed at him. "And now we can be comfortable and talk, can we not?" Indicating the chaise beside her, she glanced at Devil, "Ring for tea, Sylvester. Now, Mr. Anstruther-Wetherby, you are with Carlisle, is that right? And how is the good Marguerite?"
Subsiding into an armchair, Honoria watched as her brother, who she could have sworn was impervious to all forms of flattery, fell under the Dowager's fire. Even more disturbing, time and again, she saw Michael exchange a glance with Devil; by the time Webster brought in the tea, it was clear that, somehow, Devil had succeeded in securing her brother's approval. Honoria bit into a cucumber sandwich and tried not to glower.
She dragged her brother from mother and son's seductive influence as soon as she possibly could.