Within minutes, she was immersed in lists-initial lists, then derived lists and eventually lists for cross-checking. The afternoon and evening passed in intense activity; Webster and the housekeeper, a matronly woman known as Mrs. Hull, coordinated the execution of the Dowager's directives. An army of maids and footmen labored to open up rooms. Helpers from the nearby farms tramped in to assist in the kitchens and stables. Yet all the bustle was subdued, somber; not a laugh was heard nor a smile seen.
Night fell, restless, disturbed; Honoria awoke to a dull day. A funereal pall had settled over the Place-it deepened with the arrival of the first carriage.
The Dowager met it, taking her grieving sister-in-law under her wing. Honoria slipped away, intending to seek refuge in the summerhouse by the side of the front lawn. She was halfway across the lawn when she caught sight of Devil, heading her way through the trees. He had gone with the chaplain, Mr. Menyweather, and a party of men to mark out the grave. Devil had seen her; Honoria halted.
He came striding out of the shade, long legs encased in buckskin breeches and shiny top boots. His fine white shirt with billowing sleeves, opened at the throat, was topped by a leather waistcoat. Despite his less-than-conventional attire, with his dramatic coloring, he still looked impressive-and every inch a pirate.
His gaze traveled swiftly over her, taking in her gown of soft lavender-grey, a color suitable for half-mourning. His expression was set, impassive, yet she sensed his approval.
"Your aunt and uncle have arrived." She made the statement while he was still some yards away.
One black brow quirked; Devil didn't pause. "Good morning, Honoria Prudence." Smoothly collecting her hand, he placed it on his arm and deftly turned her back toward the house. "I trust you slept well?"
"Perfectly, thank you." With no choice offering, Honoria strolled briskly beside him. She suppressed an urge to glare. "I haven't made you free of my name."
Devil looked toward the drive. "An oversight on your part, but I'm not one to stand on ceremony. I take it Maman has my aunt in hand?"
Her eyes on his, Honoria nodded.
"In that case," Devil said, looking ahead, "I'll need your help." Another crepe-draped carriage came into view, rolling slowly toward the steps. "That will be Tolly's younger brother and sisters."
He glanced at Honoria; she exhaled and inclined her head. Lengthening their strides, they reached the drive as the carriage rocked to a halt.
The door burst open; a boy jumped down. Eyes wide, he looked dazedly toward the house. Then he heard their footsteps and swung their way. Slender, quivering with tension, he faced them, his face leached of all color, his lips pinched. Recognition flared in his tortured eyes. Honoria saw him tense to fly to Devil, but he conquered the impulse and straightened, swallowing manfully.
Devil strode to the boy, dropping a hand on his shoulder and squeezing reassuringly. "Good lad."
He looked into the carriage, then beckoned to the occupants. "Come."
He lifted first one silently sobbing girl, then another, down. Both possessed a wealth of chestnut ringlets and delicate complexions, presently blotchy. Four huge blue eyes swam in pools of tears; their slender figures shook with their sobs. They were, Honoria judged, about sixteen-and twins. Without any show of consciousness or fear, they clung to Devil, arms locking about his waist.
One arm about each, Devil turned them to face her. "This is Honoria Prudence-Miss Anstruther-Wetherby to you. She'll look after you both." He met Honoria's gaze. "She knows how it feels to lose someone you love."
Both girls and the boy were too distressed to render the prescribed greeting. Honoria didn't wait for it but smoothly took her cue. Devil deftly detached himself from the girls' clinging arms; gliding forward, she took his place. Slipping a comforting arm around each girl, she turned them toward the house. "Come-I'll show you to your room. Your parents are already inside."
They allowed her to shepherd them up the steps. Honoria was aware of their curious glances.
On the porch, both girls paused, gulping back their tears. Honoria cast a swift glance behind and saw Devil, his back to them, one arm draped across the boy's slight shoulders, head bent as he spoke to the lad. Turning back, she gathered her now shivering charges and urged them on.
Both balked.
"Will we have to… I mean-" One glanced up at her.
"Will we have to look at him?" the other forced out. "Is his face badly damaged?"
Honoria's heart lurched; sympathy-long-buried empathy-welled. "You won't have to see him if you don't want to." She spoke softly, reassuringly. "But he looks wonderfully peaceful-just like I imagine he always did. Handsome and quietly happy."
Both girls stared at her, hope in their eyes.
"I was there when he died," Honoria felt compelled to add.
"You were?" There was surprise and a touch of youthful skepticism in their tones.
"Your cousin was there as well."
"Oh." They glanced back at Devil, then both nodded.
"And now we'd better get you settled." Honoria glanced back; a maid had hopped down from the carriage; footmen had materialized and were unstrapping boxes from the boot and the roof. "You'll want to wash your faces and change before the rest of the family arrives."
With sniffs and watery smiles for Webster, encountered in the hall, they allowed her to usher them upstairs.
The chamber allotted to the girls was near the end of one wing; promising to fetch them later, Honoria left them in their maid's care and returned downstairs.
Just in time to greet the next arrivals.
The rest of the day flew. Carriages rolled up in a steady stream, disgorging matrons and stiff-necked gentlemen and a goodly sprinkling of bucks. Devil and Vane were everywhere, greeting guests, fielding questions. Charles was there, too, his expression wooden, his manner stilted.
Stationed by the stairs, Honoria helped the Dowager greet and dispose of family and those friends close enough to claim room within the great house. Anchored to her hostess's side, the keeper of the lists, she found herself introduced by the Dowager, with a gently vague air.
"And this is Miss Anstruther-Wetherby, who is keeping me company."
The Cynster cousin to whom this was addressed, presently exchanging nods with Honoria, immediately looked intrigued. Speculation gleamed in the matronly woman's eyes. "Indeed?" She smiled, graciously coy. "I'm very pleased to make your acquaintance, my dear."
Honoria replied with a polite, noncommittal murmur. She'd failed to foresee her present predicament when she'd offered her aid; now she could hardly desert her post. Fixing a smile on her lips, she resolved to ignore her hostess's blatant manipulation. The Dowager, she'd already realized, was even more stubborn than her son.
The family viewing of the body was held late that afternoon; remembering her promise, Honoria went to fetch Tolly's sisters from the distant wing.
They were waiting, pale but composed, intensely vulnerable in black muslin. Honoria ran an experienced eye over them, then nodded. "You'll do." They came forward hesitantly, clearly dreading what was to come. Honoria smiled encouragingly. "Your cousin omitted to mention your names."
"I'm Amelia, Miss Anstruther-Wetherby." The closest bobbed a curtsy.
Her sister did the same, equally gracefully. "I'm Amanda."
Honoria raised her brows. "I presume calling 'Amy' will bring you both?"
The simple sally drew two faint smiles. "Usually," Amelia admitted.
Amanda had already sobered. "Is it true-what Devil said? About you knowing about losing one you love?"
Honoria met her ingenuous gaze levelly. "Yes-I lost both my parents in a carriage accident when I was sixteen."
"Both?" Amelia looked shocked. "That must have been terrible-even worse than losing a brother."