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Honoria frowned. "Do I know him?"

"He's not the sort of gentleman you need to know."

"Ah-that sort of gentleman."

"Precisely. The Viscount is currently endeavoring

to discover the truth of 'Lucifer's discreditable rumor.' He's due to report next week."

"I see." Frowning, Honoria looked at the fire, then, absentmindedly, gathered her silks. "We have no engagements here-I'll speak to Mrs. Hull and Webster immediately." She rose, then glanced back. "I assume we'll be leaving tomorrow?"

Devil held her wide gaze for a pregnant moment, then, sighed and inclined his head. "Tomorrow. After lunch."

With a nod, Honoria turned away; Devil watched her hips sway as she walked to the door. When it closed behind her, he drained his glass-and wondered, not for the first time, just what had come over him.

"How far beyond his limit did Bromley go?"

Vane asked the question as he eased into the chair before Devil's desk. Viscount Bromley had left a bare minute before, looking decidedly green.

Locking the viscount's notes of hand back in his desk drawer, Devil named a sum; eyes widening, Vane whistled. "You really did him up in style."

Devil shrugged. "I like to be thorough."

The door opened; glancing up, Devil deduced from the distracted expression in Honoria's eyes that she'd overheard his last remark. His smile when he met her gaze was unambiguously rakish. "Good morning, my dear."

Honoria blinked, then inclined her head regally.

He watched while she exchanged greetings with Vane; she was dressed to go out in a golden merino pelisse, a velvet bonnet with a niched rim dangling by its ribbons from her hand. The same hand, gloved in ivory kid, carried a muff of golden velvet lined with swansdown; the inner face of her pelisse's upstanding collar was trimmed with the same expensive stuff. Her hair was swept up in a sleek knot-no longer the wild tangle it had been that morning when he'd left her in their bed. The memory raised a warm glow, which he knowingly allowed to infuse his smile.

Tucking the key to the desk drawer into his waistcoat pocket, he strolled, smugly satisfied, to her side. She turned as he approached-and raised her brows. "Did the viscount have the information you expected?"

Devil halted, his eyes steady on hers. He didn't need to look to be aware of Vane's surprise. "As it happens, no. Bromley needs more time."

"And you gave it to him?"

After a fractional hesitation, Devil nodded.

Honoria raised her brows. "If his lordship's so tardy, isn't there someone else you could employ in his place?"

"It's not that simple." Forestalling the question he could see in her eyes, Devil went on: "Bromley has certain attributes that make him ideal for the job."

Honoria looked even more surprised. "I only caught a brief glimpse, but he didn't strike me as the sort to inspire any great confidence." She paused, frowning slightly, looking up at Devil's uninformative face. "Now we're here, couldn't you dispense with Bromley and investigate the matter yourself? There's quite a crowd already in residence; if you tell me what it is you need to know, I might be able to learn something myself."

Vane choked-and tried to disguise it as a cough.

Honoria stared at him; capturing Vane's gaze, Devil frowned.

Witnessing that silent exchange, Honoria narrowed her eyes. "What, precisely, is Bromley investigating?"

The question brought both men's gazes to her face; Honoria met their eyes, read their instinctive response and lifted her chin. Devil eyed the sight for a bare second, then flicked a loaded glance at Vane.

Suavely, Vane smiled at Honoria. "I'll leave you to your questions." She gave him her hand; he bowed over it, then, with a speaking look for Devil, he turned to the door.

As it closed behind him, Devil looked down, into Honoria's eyes. Her expression spoke of unshakable resolve. "You don't need to know the details of Bromley's task."

He would have shifted nearer, but her quiet dignity held him back. She searched his eyes-what she read there he couldn't tell; despite all, he was conscious of admiration of a sort he'd never thought to feel for a woman-he fervently hoped it didn't show.

Honoria straightened, her chin lifting fractionally. "I'm your wife-your duchess. If something threatens our family, I need to know of it."


Tags: Stephanie Laurens Cynster Historical