Devil's Bride by Stephanie Laurens

stood back; Honoria sailed through. After waiting for her two escorts to pass, Webster followed, closing the door behind him.
    In the hall, Honoria found Mrs. Hull waiting. “What’s happened?”
    Mrs. Hull’s gaze flicked to Webster’s face, then returned to Honoria’s. The significance of that glance was not lost on Honoria; Webster had confirmed that she’d been deputed by the Dowager.
    â€œIt’s the cakes, miss. What with all we’ve had to do, we sent out for them to the village. Mrs. Hobbs is excellent with cakes. We’ve often used her in such circumstances.”
    â€œBut this time she hasn’t lived up to expectations?”
    Mrs. Hull’s face tightened. “It’s not that, miss. I sent two grooms with the gig, like I always do. Hobbs had the cakes ready—the boys loaded them in their trays. They were most of the way back”—Mrs. Hull paused to draw in a portentous breath—“when that demon horse of the master’s came racing up, rearing and screaming, and spooked the old mare in the gig. The cakes went flying”—Mrs. Hull’s eyes narrowed to flinty shards—“and that devil horse ate most of them!”
    Pressing her fingers to her lips, Honoria looked down. Then she glanced at Webster. His face was expressionless.
    â€œHis Grace did not have time to ride the horse today, miss, so the head stableman turned him out for a run. The track from the village runs through the stable paddock.”
    â€œI see.” Honoria’s jaw ached. Despite all—the solemnity of the occasion and the impending crisis—the vision of Su-lieman chomping on delicate petit fours was simply too much.
    â€œSo, you see, miss, I don’t know what we’re to do, with all these visitors and not even enough biscuits to go around.” Mrs. Hull’s expression remained severe.
    â€œIndeed.” Honoria straightened, considering possibilities. “Scones,” she decided.
    â€œScones, miss?” Mrs. Hull looked surprised, then her expression turned calculating.
    Honoria glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s just four—they won’t be expecting tea for at least half an hour. If we arrange some distraction . . .” She looked at Webster. “What time were you intending to serve dinner?”
    â€œSeven, miss.”
    Honoria nodded. “Put dinner back to eight—notify the valets and ladies’ maids. Mrs. Hull, you’ve an hour to produce scones in quantity. Take whatever helpers you need. We’ll have plain scones with jam—do you have any blackberry jam? That would be a nice touch.”
    â€œIndeed, miss.” Mrs. Hull was transformed. “We have our own blackberry jam—there’s no other like it.”
    â€œVery good—we’ll have cream for those that wish it, and we’ll have cheese scones and spiced scones as well.”
    â€œI’ll get onto it immediately, miss.” With a quick bob, Mrs. Hull sped back to her kitchen.
    â€œYou spoke of a distraction, miss—to gain half an hour for Mrs. Hull?”
    Honoria met Webster’s eye. “Not an easy task, given the cause of this gathering.”
    â€œIndeed not, miss.”
    â€œCan we help?”
    Both Honoria and Webster turned to view the twins.
    Amanda colored. “With the distraction, I mean.”
    Slowly, Honoria’s brows rose. “I wonder . . . ?” She looked along the hall. “Come with me.”
    With Webster following, they entered the music room, next to the drawing room. Honoria waved at the instruments ranged along one wall. “What do you play?”
    Amelia blinked. “I play the pianoforte.”
    â€œAnd I play the harp,” Amanda supplied.
    Excellent examples of both instruments stood before them; Webster hurried to maneuver the required pieces into place. Honoria turned to the girls. “You play together?” They