Webster delivered his message sotto voce but as he turned to look at his butler, Devil caught a glimpse of Honoria's face-and her arrested expression.
"Thank you, Webster." Resettling his sleeves, Devil turned to Honoria. "I bid you a good night, Honoria Prudence."
She hesitated, her eyes touching his briefly, then stiffly inclined her head. "And I bid you a good night, Your Grace."
With cool hauteur, she turned and climbed the stairs. Devil watched her ascend, hips swaying gently; when she passed from view, he hauled in a deep breath, slowly let it out-then headed for the library.
Wringing blood from a stone would doubtless be easier, but Honoria was not about to allow Devil to deny her the latest news. She wasn't going to marry him-she'd warned him repeatedly she would not-but she was still committed to unmasking Tolly's killer. She'd shared the information she had found; it was his turn to reciprocate.
She heard the latch of the morning-room door click; swinging to face it, she straightened. Devil entered and shut the door. His gaze swept her, then returned to her face; with his customary languid prowl, he approached.
"I've been told you wished to see me." His tone, and the elevation of one dark brow, suggested mild boredom.
Regally, Honoria inclined her head and kept her eyes on his. All the rest of him-his distant expression, his movements so smoothly controlled, all the elements of his physical presence-were calculated to underscore his authority. Others might find the combination intimidating; she simply found it distracting. "Indeed." He halted before her. Lifting her chin she fixed him with a gaze as incisive as his was bland. "I wish to know the latest news in the search for Tolly's murderer. What did Lucifer learn?"
Devil's brows rose higher. "Nothing of any importance."
Honoria's eyes narrowed. "He waited until one in the morning to see you to report 'nothing of any importance'?"
Devil nodded. Honoria searched his eyes; her own eyes widened. "You're lying!"
Inwardly, Devil cursed. What was it that gave him away? "There was nothing Lucifer discovered that might lead us to Tolly's murderer."
Honoria stared at him. "That's not true either."
Closing his eyes, Devil swore beneath his breath. "Honoria-"
"I can't believe it! I helped you-it was I who discovered Tolly was untroubled when he left his parents' house."
Opening his eyes, Devil saw her chin tilt, her gaze shift. Before she could begin her usual peregrinations, he locked both hands on the mantelpiece, one on either side of her. Caging her. Incensed, she glared at him.
"Believe me," he said, trapping her heated gaze, "I'm grateful for your help. The others are concentrating on discovering where Tolly went after he left Mount Street. What Lucifer came to report was something else entirely." He paused, choosing his words with care. "It may be nothing, but it's not anything you can help investigate."
Honoria considered the evidence of his eyes-they remained crystal-clear. Whenever he lied, they fogged. She nodded. "Very well. I shall continue with my own investigations, in my own way."
Devil's hands clenched on the mantelpiece. "Honoria, we're discussing tracking a murderer-a cold-blooded killer-not discovering who stole the Queen of Hearts's tarts."
"I had a
ssimilated that fact, Your Grace." Honoria tilted her chin higher. "Indeed, before I leave for Africa, I intended seeing the villain taken in charge."
Devil's jaw set. "You are not going to Africa, and you'll stay well clear of this villain."
Her eyes flashed; she lifted her chin one last notch. "You're very good at giving orders, Your Grace, but you've forgotten one pertinent point. I am not subject to your authority. And never shall be."
Those last four words were Devil's undoing; lightning-fast, he straightened, hauled her into his arms, and set his lips to hers. In his present state, it was sheer madness to try to coerce her, to attempt to enforce his will in that way.
Sheer unmitigated madness.
It snatched Honoria up, buffeting her senses, ripping her from reality. Only her fury and an intuitive grasp of his aim allowed her to resist. His lips were hard, demanding, searching-for a response she longed to-ached to-give. She locked her lips against him.
His arms locked about her; unyielding steel, they tightened, impressing her soft flesh with the male hardness of his. Sensation streaked through her; her skin tingled. Still she held firm, holding to her anger, using it as a shield.
He tilted his head, his lips moved on hers, a powerful, elemental call to her senses. Inwardly reeling, Honoria clung to lucidity, sure of only one thing. He was kissing her into submission. And succeeding.
Fragment by fragment, she lost her grip on her fury; familiar heat flooded her. She felt herself soften, felt her lips lose their resolution, felt all resistance melt. Desperation gripped her. Surrender was too galling to contemplate.
Which left attack her only option. Her hands were trapped against his chest; sliding them up, she found the hard planes of his face. He stilled at her touch; before he could react, she framed his jaw-and kissed him.