Honoria glared. "Proposition? I thought it was a proposal."

Michael closed his eyes tight. "His proposal's on the table and will remain there until you make your decision!" He opened his eyes. "His proposition concerns how we should go on until you do."

"Oh." Faced with his exasperation, Honoria shifted, then looked across the lake. "So what is this proposition?"

Michael drew a deep breath. "Because of his cousin's death, a wedding could not be held inside three months-the Dowager will be in full mourning for six weeks, then half-mourning for another six. As you have no suitable family with whom to reside, what would normally occur is that you would remain with the Dowager and she would introduce you to the ton as her son's fiancee."

"But I haven't agreed to marry him."

"No-so in this case, you'll simply remain under the Dowager's wing. She intends going to London in a few weeks-you'll go with her and she'll introduce you to the ton. That will give you a chance to see society from a perspective you've never had-if, after that, you still wish to refuse St. Ives's offer, he and I will accept your decision and try to come up with some acceptable alternative."

His emphasis made it clear he did not expect to find one. Honoria frowned. "What explanation will be given for my presence with the Dowager?"

"None-Cynsters don't need to tender explanations any more than Anstruther-Wetherbys."

Honoria looked skeptical. "Surely people will wonder?"

"People will know, of that you may be sure. However, given the Dowager's involvement, they'll imagine an announcement is in the offing and comport themselves appropriately." Michael grimaced. "I should warn you, the Dowager is something of a force to be reckoned with."

Honoria raised a questioning brow.

Michael waved at the house. "You saw her just now. She's a consummate manipulator."

Honoria's lips twitched. "I had wondered whether you'd noticed."

"I noticed, but there's precious little point trying to resist. You called St. Ives a tyrant-I don't doubt he is, but that's probably just as well. Within the ton, his mother's considered a holy terror-of inestimable help if her sympathies lie with you, an enemy to be feared if they don't. No one's going to invite her ire by circulating possibly groundless rumors concerning her son and the lady who might be his duchess. There's no safer place for you than under the Dowager's wing."

Honoria could see it; slowly, she nodded, then looked frowningly at Michael. "I still think it would be much simpler for me to retire to Hampshire until all this blows over, Even if I don't get another post, as you pointed out, I am twenty-four. It's time I started on my travel plans."

Michael sighed, and looked away. "You can't stay in Hampshire alone-we'll have to get Aunt Hattie down."

"Aunt Hattie?" Honoria wrinkled her nose. "She'll drive me distracted inside of a week."

Michael pursed his lips. "Can't think of anyone else, and you can't live alone, especially once your sojourn in the woods with Devil Cynster becomes public. You'll find your self dealing with all manner of unwanted visitors."

Honoria shot him a darkling glance, then frowned, very hard, at the lake. Michael preserved a stoic silence.

Minutes ticked past; eyes narrowed, Honoria reviewed her options. She had, indeed, regretted sending for Michael so precipitously; it was clearly going to take time to track Tolly's murderer down. Devil, initially a large hurdle to her plans, had been overcome; he now behaved as a reluctant but resigned coconspirator. The idea of them, together, unmasking Tolly's killer was attractive-quite aside from the compulsion she felt to see justice done, the situation looked set to provide the excitement she'd craved all her life. Leaving now would see all that lost.

There was also the small matter of her burgeoning desire to experience-just once-the pleasure Devil had alluded to. His words, his caresses, like Tolly's face, now haunted her. He'd made it clear physical possession and pleasure were independent events-although the thought was guaranteed to bring a blush to her cheek, she was aware of an increasing compulsion to learn what he could teach her. Of pleasure. Possession, in this case, was out of the question, beyond all possibility. Cynsters never let go anything that became theirs-she was far too wise to become his on any level.

Given she'd determined never to wed, her virtue would never be in question. It seemed wise to gain some experience of the pleasure possible between a man and a woman before she set off on her travels. And there was no denying the pleasure she'd thus far experienced at Devil Cynster's hands had held an excitement all its own.

With all that on offer, currently on her plate, but for Devil's matrimonial fixation, her present situation suited her admirably. She didn't want to go to Hampshire but with him so set on marriage, it hadn't seemed possible to stay.

Now, however, with his devilish proposition, the devil himself had cleared her path. She could remain in his household, in his mother's care, safe from him and any other gentleman, for three full months-surely, by that time, they would have laid Tolly's murderer by the heels? And she would have learned all she'd need to know of pleasure.

Which left only one quibble-was she strong enough, clever enough, to avoid any traps Devil might set for her?

Honoria straightened, and summoned a resigned grimace. "Very well." She turned and met Michael's eye. "I'll agree to remain under the Dowager's wing for three months." Michael grinned-Honoria narrowed her eyes. "After that, I'll go to Hampshire."

With a long-suffering groan, Michael rose and drew her to her feet. Arm in arm, they strolled back to the house.

Later that evening, Honoria was seated in an armchair in the drawing room, her lap full of embroidery silks, when a shadow fell across her. The Dowager was on the chaise, similarly occupied in sorting brilliant hanks. Michael, pleading tiredness, had retired early; Devil had retreated to the library. The tea trolley had come and gone; the evening had slipped silently into night.

Stymied in her attempt to discriminate between azure and turquoise, Honoria looked up-all the way up to Devil's face. He stood directly before her, his expression inscrutable. For a long moment, he simply held her gaze, his own shadowed, impossible to read. Then he held out his hand. "Come for a walk, Honoria Prudence."

From the corner of her eye, Honoria noted that the Dowager had been struck deaf.

Devil's lips softened fleetingly; his gaze remained intense, focused on her face. "I promise not to bite."

Honoria considered the pros and cons-she needed to talk to him, to make sure, while Michael was still here, that their bargain-his proposition-was precisely as she thought. She searched his face. "Not to the summerhouse." She might wish to learn more of pleasure, but she wanted the lessons under her control.

This time, his pirate's smile materialized fully if briefly. "Only on the terrace-I wouldn't want to distract you."

Honoria quelled an incipient shiver, elicited by the deep purring tones of his voice, and shot him a disbelieving glance.

He raised his brows resignedly. "Word of a Cynster."

And in that she could trust. Gathering her silks, Honoria set them aside, then placed her hand in his. He drew her to her feet, then settled her hand on his arm. The Dowager ignored them, apparently absorbed in lilac silks to the exclusion of all else. They strolled to where long windows stood open to the terrace, the night a curtain of black velvet beyond.

"I wished to speak to you," Honoria began the instant they gained the flags.

"And I to you." Looking down at her, Devil paused.

Regally, Honoria inclined her head, inviting his comment.

"Michael has informed me you've agreed to remain with my mother for the next three months."

Reaching the balustrade, Honoria lifted her hand from his sleeve and swung to face him. "Until the period of mourning is over."

"After which time, you'll become my duchess."

She tilted her chin. "After which time, I'll return to Hampshire."

He'd halted directly before her, no more than a foot away. With the light behind him, it was all she could do to discern his expression-arrogantly impassive; his eyes, hooded and shadowed, fixed on hers, she couldn't read at all. Honoria kept her head high, her gaze unwavering, determined to impress on him how inflexible she was.

The moment stretched-and stretched; she started to feel light-headed. Then one of his brows rose.

"We appear to have a problem, Honoria Prudence."

"Only in your mind, Your Grace."

The planes of his face shifted; his expression held a warning. "Perhaps," he said, exasperation clear beneath the polite form, "before we decide what will occur at the end of the three months, we should agree on the three months themselves?"

Haughtily, Honoria raised her brows. "I've agreed to remain with your mother."

"And seriously consider my proposal."

The message in his tone was unmistakable-a bargain, or no deal. Drawing in a quick breath, she nodded. "And seriously consider the prospect of becoming your wife. I should, however, inform you that I am unlikely to change my stance on that matter."

"In other words, you're bone stubborn-and I have three months to change your mind."

She did not at all like the way he said that. "I am not a vacillating female-I have no intention of changing my mind."