"Your pardon, Your Grace."

Turning, Honoria watched as Mrs. Hull bobbed a curtsy to Devil, then faced her. "The caterers have arrived, ma'am. I've put them in the parlor."

"Oh-yes." Happiness deflating like a pricked balloon, Honoria smiled weakly. "I'll join them shortly." The florists were also due that morning, as were the musicians.

Mrs. Hull withdrew; Honoria turned back to meet Devil's eyes. "I'd forgotten. The supper menu needs to be decided today. I won't have time to ride this morning."

With a suave smile, Devil waved dismissively. "It's of no account."

Honoria held back a frown-that smile did not reach his eyes. But she could think of nothing appropriate to say; with an apologetic smile, she stood. "By your leave."

Devil inclined his head, his superficial smile still in place. He watched Honoria leave, then set down his cup and stood. Slowly, a frown replaced his smile. He walked into the hall; behind him, Webster gave orders for the parlor to be cleared. An instant later, he appeared at his elbow.

"Shall I send for your horse, Your Grace?"

Devil focused, and found his gaze resting on the stairs up which Honoria had gone. "No." When he rode alone, he rode early, before others were about. His features hardening, he turned to the library. "I'll be busy for the rest of the morning."


*****

The day of the duchess of St. Ives's impromptu ball dawned crisp and clear. In the park, wispy mist wreathed beneath the trees; shrill birdcalls echoed in the stillness.

Devil rode along the deserted tan track, the heavy thud of his horse's hooves drumming in his ears. He rode with single-minded abandon, fast yet in absolute control, his body and his mount's in fluid concert as they flew through the chill morning. At the end of the track, he hauled the snorting chestnut's head about-and rode back even faster.

Nearing the end of the tan, he eased back, pulling up before a stand of oak. The deep-chested horse, built for endurance, blew hard, and dropped his head. Devil loosened the reins, chest swelling as he drew the air deep.

There was no one in sight, nothing but trees and well-tended lawns. The tang of damp grass rose as the chestnut shifted, then settled to crop. Devil filled his chest again, and felt the cold reach his brain. And, as often happened in this solitude, his unease, the nagging disquiet that had gnawed at him for days, crystallized, clarified. The insight was not encouraging.

The idea that he was irritated because his wife was so busy organizing her ball that she had no time for him did not sit well-yet denying his jealousy, the waiting, the wanting to be with her, was pointless. Even now, he could feel the black emotion roiling inside. Yet he had no justifiable cause for complaint. Duchesses were supposed to give balls. Honoria was behaving precisely as a wife should-she'd made no awkward demands, no requests for attention he didn't wish to give. She hadn't even accepted the attention he'd been only too willing to bestow.

That fact rankled. Deeply.

Frowning, Devil shook his shoulders. He was being unreasonable-he'd no right to expect his wife to be different, to comport herself by some different code-one he couldn't, even now, define. Yet that was precisely what he did want, the desire at the heart of his dissatisfaction.

Unbidden, his mind conjured up that moment when, in his woodsman's cottage, she'd leaned against him. He'd looked down, seen the warmth and understanding in her eyes, and felt her weight, soft and womanly, against him. And realized just how much he now had that Tolly would never have, never have a chance to experience.

He drew a deep breath; the crisp cold sang through his veins. He wanted Honoria-had wanted her from the first-but his want was not quite what he'd thought it. The physical want, the possessive want, the protective want, the need for her loyalty, her commitment-all these he'd fulfilled. What remained?

Something, certainly-something strong enough, powerful enough, to unsettle him, to obsess him, to undermine effortlessly his normally unassailable control. Something beyond his experience.

Brows quirking, he examined that conclusion and could not fault it. Lips firming, he took up his reins. He wasn't going to get any real peace until he fulfilled this want, too.

Both he and the chestnut had cooled. Leaning forward, he patted the horse's sleek neck and dug in his heels. The chestnut obediently stepped out, shifting fluidly into a loping canter.

The bark of the tree before which they'd stood splintered. The sound reached Devil; glancing back, he saw the fresh lesion in the trunk, level with his chest. In the same instant, a telltale "cough" reached his ears.

He didn't stop to investigate; he didn't rein in until he reached the park gate where others were now gathering for their morning ride.

Devil halted to let the chestnut settle. Guns were not permitted in the park. The keepers were exempt, but what would they shoot at-squirrels?

The chestnut had calmed; deadly calm himself, Devil headed back to Grosvenor Square.


*****

The duchess of St. Ives's impromptu ball was an extravagant success. Held, not in the large ballroom, but in the relative intimacy of the music room, the evening overflowed with laughter, dancing, and an easy gaiety not often encountered within the rigid confines of the ton.

Many present, of course, were related; the rest were longstanding acquaintances. The tone was set from the first, when the duke and duchess led the company in a vigorous, breathless waltz. All hundred guests took the hint, setting themselves to enjoy the relaxed atmosphere, the champagne that flowed freely, the excellent supper and the similarly excellent company. Some five hours after the first had arrived, the last guests, weary but smiling, took their leave. Webster shut the front door, then set the bolts.

In the center of the hall, Devil looked down at Honoria, leaning on his arm. Lights still danced in her eyes. He smiled. "A signal success, my dear."

Honoria smiled back, resting her head against his arm. "It went very well, I think."

"Indeed." His hand over hers where it lay on his sleeve, Devil turned her toward the library. It had become their habit to end their evenings there, sipping brandy, exchanging comments. They halted on the threshold; footmen and maids were clearing glasses and straightening furniture. Devil glanced at Honoria. "Perhaps, tonight, we should take our drinks upstairs."

Honoria nodded. Devil accepted a lighted candelabrum from Webster; together they started up the stairs.

"Amelia and Amanda were exhausted."

"For quite the first time in their lives."

Honoria smiled fondly. "They danced every dance bar the waltzes. And they would have danced those if they could have." Glancing up, she noted the slight frown marring her husband's handsome countenance; looking forward, she inwardly grinned. The twins' presence had triggered an intriguing reaction in their male cousins-repressive looks had been de rigueur. She could foresee certain interesting scenes as the Season unfolded.

The thought reminded her of another interesting scene, one in which she'd participated. "Incidentally, I give you fair warning, I will not again invite Chillingworth if you behave as you did tonight."

"Mel" The look of innocence Devil sent her would have done credit to a cherub. "I wasn't the one who started it."

Honoria frowned. "I meant both of you-he was no better."

"I could hardly let him get away with casting a slur on my ability to satisfy you."

"He didn't! It was you who twisted his words that way."

"That was what he meant."

"Be that as it may, you didn't have to inform him that I-" Honoria broke off, cheeks flaming-again. She caught the gleam in Devil's green eyes. Pulling her hand from under his, she pushed him away; he didn't even stagger. "You're incorrigible." Lifting her skirts, she climbed the last stairs. "I don't know why you insisted on inviting him when all the conversation you exchanged was a litany of thinly veiled insults."

"That's why." Retaking her arm, Devil drew it through his as they crossed the gallery. "Chillingworth's the perfect whetstone to sharpen my wit upon-his hide's as thick as a rhinoceros's."

"Humph!" Honoria kept her chin high.

"I did let him waltz with you."

"Only because I made it impossible for you to do otherwise." She'd used the waltz to separate the two dueling reprobates-unsuccessfully as it transpired.

"Honoria, if I do not wish you to waltz with a particular gentleman, you won't."

She looked up, a protest on her lips. The undercurrent beneath his words registered, she met his eye-and decided it was safer simply to humph again.

When she looked forward, Devil grinned. He'd enjoyed the evening without reservation; even the emergence of the twins as budding Aphrodites couldn't tarnish his mellow mood. As they turned toward the ducal apartments, he slid his arm about Honoria and drew her against him.

Honoria let him, enjoying his nearness. She remained puzzled by his relationship with Chillingworth. While waltzing with Vane, she'd asked his opinion; he'd smiled. "If they weren't so busy being rivals, they'd be friends." Their rivalry, now she'd viewed it at close quarters, was not entirely facetious, yet neither was it serious. From any distance, however, they appeared deadly rivals.

"Is Charles always so subdued?" She'd noticed him watching as she waltzed with Chillingworth; his expression had been oddly blank.