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."

Devil noted her emphasis; she did not look away but continued to face him with unwavering resolution.

The moment stretched, charged, thick with unspoken argument. She was challenging his authority and she knew it-but she would not back down. Her eyes said so very clearly.

Devil narrowed his eyes. "You are an exceedingly stubborn woman."

Haughtily, Honoria raised a brow. "You knew that before we wed."

He nodded curtly. "Unfortunately, that trait was an integral part of the package."

His clipped accents stung; Honoria tilted her chin. "You accepted me-for better or worse."

Devil's eyes flashed. "You did the same."

Again, their gazes locked; after a moment's fraught silence, Honoria, very slowly, lifted an imperious brow. Devil eyed the sight with undisguised irritation-then, with a low growl, gestured to the chaise. "The matter is hardly one fit for a lady's ears."

Hiding her triumph, Honoria obediently sat; Devil sat beside her. Briefly, concisely, he told her the essence of Lucifer's rumor-how a number of contacts had reported that a Cynster had been frequenting the "palaces."

"Palaces?" Honoria looked blank.

Devil's jaw set. "Brothels-highly exclusive ones."

Honoria looked him in the eye. "You don't believe it's one of the Bar Cynster."

A statement, not a question; grimly, Devil shook his head. "I know it isn't one of us. Not one of us would cross the threshold of such a place." He saw no reason to edify Honoria with details of what transpired at the "palaces"-the worst excesses of prostitution was not something his wife needed to know. "It's possible Tolly attended out of curiosity and, while there, saw or heard something that made him a threat to someone." He met Honoria's eyes. "Patrons of the 'palaces' are necessarily wealthy, most are powerful in the true sense of the word. The sort of men who have secrets to hide and the capability to silence those who learn them."

Honoria studied his face. "Why do you need Bromley?"

Devil's lips twisted. "Unfortunately, the opinions of the Bar Cynster on that particular topic are widely known. The proprietors are careful; none of us could get answers."

After a moment, Honoria asked: "Do you really think it was Tolly?"

Devil met her gaze, and shook his head. "Which leaves…" He frowned, then grimaced. "But I believe that even less than that it was Tolly."

They both frowned into space, then Honoria focused-and glanced at the clock. "Great heavens-I'll be late." Gathering her muff, she rose.

Devil rose, too. "Where are you going?"

"To call on Louise, then I'm due at Lady Colebourne's for lunch."

"Not a hint of any of this to Louise-or Maman."

The glance Honoria sent him was fondly condescending. "Of course not."

She turned to the door-Devil halted her with one finger beneath her chin, turning her back to face him, tilting her head up. He looked into her eyes, waited until he saw awareness blossom, then bent his head and touched his lips to hers.

As a kiss, it was a whisper, a tantalizing, feathering touch, too insubstantial to satisfy yet too real to ignore.

When he raised his head, Honoria blinked wildly, then she saw his smile and only just stopped her glare. She drew herself up and regally inclined her head. "I will bid you a good day, my lord."

Devil smiled, slowly. "Enjoy your day, my lady."

Throughout her afternoon, Honoria cursed her husband-and the lingering effects of his devilish kiss. Unable to explain the occasional shivers that racked her, she was forced to humor Louise's supposition and drink a glass of ratafia to drive away her chill. Seated on the chaise in Louise's drawing room, the twins on footstools at her feet, she grasped the opportunity to air the idea that had taken root in her mind. "I'm thinking of giving a ball." She felt it imperative to publicly stamp her claim as the new duchess of St. Ives-an impromptu ball seemed the perfect solution.

"A ball?" Amanda's eyes grew round. She swung to face her mother. "Will we be allowed to attend?"

Observing her daughters' glowing faces, Louise struggled to hide a smile. "That would depend on whether you were invited and what sort of ball it was to be."

Amanda and Amelia swung back to face Honoria; she pretended not to notice, and spoke to Louise. "I believe it should be an impromptu ball-just for family and friends."

Louise nodded. "Not many of the ton are yet in residence-it would hardly do for the duchess of St. Ives to hold her first formal ball when fully half of society is still on the hunting field."

"Indeed-tantamount to social indiscretion. A sure way of putting the grandes dames' noses out of joint. Too many would be offended if I held my first formal ball now-but an impromptu ball should raise no ire."

Louise sat back, gesturing magnanimously. "As business has necessitated your return to town, no one would question your right to a little informal entertainment. And, of course, Helena has yet to come up-you couldn't hold your first formal ball without her."

"Precisely." Honoria nodded; the Dowager had gone to visit friends and was not expected to join them until the start of the Season proper. "And if it's just for friends…"

"And family," Louise added.

"Then," Honoria mused, "it could be held quite soon."

Amanda and Amelia looked from one distant expression to the other. "But will we be invited!" they wailed.

Honoria blinked and regarded them with apparent surprise. "Good heavens! You've put up your hair!"

Louise laughed; the twins pulled faces at Honoria, then leapt up from their footstools to flank her on the chaise.

"We promise to be models of decorum."

"The most proper young ladies you ever did see."

"And we've plenty of cousins to dance with, so you won't need to be forever finding us partners."

Honoria studied their bright eyes, and wondered how they would view their magnificant cousins once they saw them in their true colors, their true setting, prowling a ton ballroom. Her hesitation earned her two abjectly imploring looks; she laughed. "Of course you'll be invited." She glanced from one ecstatic face to the other. "But it will be up to your mama to decide if you should attend or not."

They all looked at Louise; she smiled fondly but firmly at her daughters. "I'll reserve my decision until I've spoken with your father but, given you're to be presented this Season, an impromptu family ball, particularly one at St. Ives House, would be an excellent start to your year."

Expectation took flight; the twins glowed with delight.

Leaving them in alt, already badgering Louise over their ball gowns, Honoria traveled on to Lady Colebourne's town house, to partake of luncheon amidst a host of young matrons. Any lingering reservations over the need for her ball were swiftly laid to rest. Considering gleams appeared in too many eyes at the news that her husband had returned to town, a married gentleman now, far safer, in terms of dalliance, than the unattached rake he used to be.

Smiling serenely, Honoria considered stamping her claim on him, too. Perhaps with a tattoo?-on his forehead, and another relevant part of his anatomy. The ton's bored matrons could look elsewhere for entertainment. Devil was hers-she had to fight an urge to declare the point publicly.

By the time she climbed into her carriage to return to Grosvenor Square, rampant possessiveness had taken firm hold. The strength of the feeling shocked her, but she knew well enough from whence it sprang. Within the ton, there was more than one way to lose a husband.

Not since the night of the storm, when she'd woken to find him in her room, had she thought again of losing him. Despite her fears, despite the fact Sligo and Devil's head stableman had shared her suspicions, nothing further had occurred-it now seemed likely that Devil had been right, and the disintegration of his phaeton nothing more than freakish accident.

Staring at the streetscape, Honoria felt a totally unexpected determination well. She recognized it for what it was-it surprised her, but she did not fight it. Too many people had told her that it was her fate to be his bride.

Which meant he was hers-she intended keeping it that way.


*****

Devil lunched with friends, then dropped in at White's. It was their third day back in the capital; despite the acquisition of a wife, the comfortable regime of former days was slowly settling into place. "The only difference," he explained to Vane as they strolled into the reading room, "is that I no longer need to exert myself over the matter of warming my bed."

Vane grinned. Nudging Devil's elbow, he nodded to two vacant armchairs.

They settled companionably behind newssheets. Devil gazed at his, unseeing. His mind was full of his wife and her stubbornness. Quite how he had come to marry the one woman in all the millions impervious to intimidation, he did not know. Fate, he recalled, had arranged the matter-his only option seemed to be to hope fate would also provide him with the means to manage her without damaging the subtle something growing between them.