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"You're going to need one someday."

"Ah, but I'm altogether adamant on the price I'm willing to pay." Chillingworth watched as Honoria, Devil's heir asleep on her shoulder, stepped away from a group of guests and continued on her way toward them. One glance at Devil's face and Chillingworth shook his head. "A simple marriage will achieve the necessary result. I see absolutely no reason to indulge in the extremes you Cynsters seem to find so unavoidable."

Devil chuckled. "I'm going to seriously enjoy dancing at your wedding."

"The pertinent question is"-Chillingworth lowered his voice as Honoria neared-"will I?" He smiled and sketched a bow to Honoria. "If you'll excuse me, my dear, I must get back to London tonight. I'll leave your husband to your tender mercies."

He nodded at Devil, a smug glint in his eye.

Devil grinned back, unrepentant, undeterred.

"What was that about?" Honoria asked as Chillingworth strolled off.

"Vain hope." Devil watched his old friend stride away, then he looked at his wife. He jiggled the sleeping baby. "He's getting heavy. And Sebastian's sound asleep. Perhaps we should take them up to the nursery."

Honoria was too busy checking Sebastian's sleeping face to notice the unreliable gleam that had appeared in her husband's green eyes. "I'll find their nannies and have them take them up."

"Let the nannies enjoy the last of the afternoon. We can take them up. There's plenty of people indoors to keep an ear open for them."

"Well…" The motherly need to tuck her darlings in herself warred with Honoria's hostessly instincts. "All right. We'll take them up, and I'll send the nannies up when we come down."

They strolled into the house and up the stairs, the sleeping children their obvious excuse. No one thought anything of their departure.

No one noticed when they didn't immediately reappear.

Indeed, only those with sharp eyes and suspicious minds noticed that when the duke and duchess eventually rejoined their guests, the duchess's ivory skin was delicately flushed and her eyes held the dreamy look of a woman well loved, and that a certain male pride-a wholly Cynster expression-glowed in her husband's green eyes.

Times may change; Cynsters never do.