crowd
filled the music room and the drawing room and overflowed onto the terrace.
While chatting with Cynster relatives and
ton
nish
family acquaintances, Honoria kept a careful eye on Devil and his five
accomplices. A pattern was soon apparent. Devil stood in the drawing room, his
back to the open terrace doors; the others roamed the crowd, every now and then
either stopping by Devil's side quietly to impart some information or catching
his eye.
She could do nothing to intercept that silent
communication; as for the other, however… Honoria focused on Lady Sheffield,
her present interrogator.
"Of course," her ladyship intoned,
"this distressing business will delay matters somewhat."
Deliberately vague, Honoria raised her brows.
"Indeed?"
Lady Sheffield eyed her consideringly. "Three
months of mourning—that makes it December."
"Winter," Honoria helpfully observed. She
smiled at Lady Sheffield, and gave her something for her pains. "Pray
excuse me, ma'am—I must speak with Webster."
With a smile, she glided to the door, quite certain
how her words would be interpreted. In the hall, she wove through the knots of
guests. Plates piled with tiny sandwiches sat waiting on a sideboard; picking
one up, she proceeded through the music room and onto the terrace.
Reaching the spot immediately behind Devil's back, she
took up her position, her back to the drawing room. The sandwiches on her plate
instantly attracted suitable cover.
"Lady Harrington," an older lady introduced
herself. "Know your grandfather well, miss. Haven't seen him for a while.
Daresay he's keeping well?"
"I daresay," Honoria replied, keeping her
voice low.
"Hurst knows nothing, nor does Gilford."
Without turning around and risking one of Devil's
cousins noticing her, Honoria couldn't tell which one was reporting. But she
knew Devil's voice. "Vane's checked with Blackwell. Try Gelling."
"Nice sandwiches, these." Lady Harrington
took another. "There's Lady Smallworts—she knows your grandfather, too.
Here—Dulcie!"
Lady Harrington waved at another bedizened lady;
behind Honoria, another report was coming in. "Nothing from Dashwood and
yes, I leaned heavily. He's not holding anything back. Not his style, this sort
of caper."
There was silence, then Devil asked: "Anyone else
here from that part of town?"
"I'll try Giles Edgeworth."
Some older gentleman approached Devil, and he was
forced to converse; Honoria grasped the opportunity to give her attention to
Lady Smallworts.
"Dear me, yes!" Lady Smallworts was
examining her face through lorgnettes. "There's a definite likeness there,
don't you think, Arethusa? About the chin."
Making a mental note to examine her chin when next she
glanced in her mirror, Honoria plastered a smile on her lips and set herself to
getting the two old dames chatting. Then she tuned her ears to the activity
behind her.
"No luck with Farnsworth, nor Girton
either."
Devil sighed. "There has to be something,
somewhere."
"Must be—we'll just have to keep looking until we
find it." After a pause, whichever cousin it was said: "I'll try a
touch on Caffrey."
"Careful—I don't want this all over town by
morning."
"Trust me."
Honoria could almost see the Cynster smile that went
with the words.
Again Devil's attention was claimed by others; Honoria
put her tuppence worth into the discussion over whether sprigged muslin would
still be all the rage next Season.
It was some time before another of his cousins came to
Devil's side. Guests were starting to depart when Vane reported; Honoria
recognized his voice. "Forget Hillsworth or, I suspect, any of that ilk.
If the problem's in that line, we'll need to get Harry to dig deeper."
"Speak of the Demon…"
"No go with any of my lot."
"Here come the others," Vane said.
"Not a whisper—not so much as a twitch."
"No luck."
"Not so much as a hint of a suspicion."
"Which means," Devil said, "that we'll
have to go hunting."
"But in which direction?"
"In all directions." Devil
filled the music room and the drawing room and overflowed onto the terrace.
While chatting with Cynster relatives and
ton
nish
family acquaintances, Honoria kept a careful eye on Devil and his five
accomplices. A pattern was soon apparent. Devil stood in the drawing room, his
back to the open terrace doors; the others roamed the crowd, every now and then
either stopping by Devil's side quietly to impart some information or catching
his eye.
She could do nothing to intercept that silent
communication; as for the other, however… Honoria focused on Lady Sheffield,
her present interrogator.
"Of course," her ladyship intoned,
"this distressing business will delay matters somewhat."
Deliberately vague, Honoria raised her brows.
"Indeed?"
Lady Sheffield eyed her consideringly. "Three
months of mourning—that makes it December."
"Winter," Honoria helpfully observed. She
smiled at Lady Sheffield, and gave her something for her pains. "Pray
excuse me, ma'am—I must speak with Webster."
With a smile, she glided to the door, quite certain
how her words would be interpreted. In the hall, she wove through the knots of
guests. Plates piled with tiny sandwiches sat waiting on a sideboard; picking
one up, she proceeded through the music room and onto the terrace.
Reaching the spot immediately behind Devil's back, she
took up her position, her back to the drawing room. The sandwiches on her plate
instantly attracted suitable cover.
"Lady Harrington," an older lady introduced
herself. "Know your grandfather well, miss. Haven't seen him for a while.
Daresay he's keeping well?"
"I daresay," Honoria replied, keeping her
voice low.
"Hurst knows nothing, nor does Gilford."
Without turning around and risking one of Devil's
cousins noticing her, Honoria couldn't tell which one was reporting. But she
knew Devil's voice. "Vane's checked with Blackwell. Try Gelling."
"Nice sandwiches, these." Lady Harrington
took another. "There's Lady Smallworts—she knows your grandfather, too.
Here—Dulcie!"
Lady Harrington waved at another bedizened lady;
behind Honoria, another report was coming in. "Nothing from Dashwood and
yes, I leaned heavily. He's not holding anything back. Not his style, this sort
of caper."
There was silence, then Devil asked: "Anyone else
here from that part of town?"
"I'll try Giles Edgeworth."
Some older gentleman approached Devil, and he was
forced to converse; Honoria grasped the opportunity to give her attention to
Lady Smallworts.
"Dear me, yes!" Lady Smallworts was
examining her face through lorgnettes. "There's a definite likeness there,
don't you think, Arethusa? About the chin."
Making a mental note to examine her chin when next she
glanced in her mirror, Honoria plastered a smile on her lips and set herself to
getting the two old dames chatting. Then she tuned her ears to the activity
behind her.
"No luck with Farnsworth, nor Girton
either."
Devil sighed. "There has to be something,
somewhere."
"Must be—we'll just have to keep looking until we
find it." After a pause, whichever cousin it was said: "I'll try a
touch on Caffrey."
"Careful—I don't want this all over town by
morning."
"Trust me."
Honoria could almost see the Cynster smile that went
with the words.
Again Devil's attention was claimed by others; Honoria
put her tuppence worth into the discussion over whether sprigged muslin would
still be all the rage next Season.
It was some time before another of his cousins came to
Devil's side. Guests were starting to depart when Vane reported; Honoria
recognized his voice. "Forget Hillsworth or, I suspect, any of that ilk.
If the problem's in that line, we'll need to get Harry to dig deeper."
"Speak of the Demon…"
"No go with any of my lot."
"Here come the others," Vane said.
"Not a whisper—not so much as a twitch."
"No luck."
"Not so much as a hint of a suspicion."
"Which means," Devil said, "that we'll
have to go hunting."
"But in which direction?"
"In all directions." Devil
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