Michael straightened, one hand clasping hers. "Honoria, you're an unmarried lady of twenty-four, of impeccable lineage and unblemished reputation. In this instance, I must agree with St. Ives-there's really no course open to you other than to accept his offer. He's behaved precisely as he should-no one could hold either of you to blame, yet the circumstances remain and require the prescribed response."
"No." Honoria made the word a statement. "You can't seriously imagine me happily married to Devil Cynster."
Michael raised his brows. "Actually, I find that easier to imagine than any other outcome."
"Michael! He's a tyrant! An unmitigatingly arrogant despot."
Michael shrugged. "You can't have everything, as Mama was wont to tell you."
Honoria narrowed her eyes; she let a pregnant moment pass before stating, categorically: "Michael, I do not wish to marry Devil Cynster."
Letting go of her hand, Michael leaned back against the seat. "So what do you see as an alternative?"
Honoria knew relief-at least they were discussing alternatives. "I'd thought to return to Hampshire-it's too late to get another post this year."
"You'll never get another post, not once this gets out. And it will. St. Ives is right about that-if you marry him, the only whispers will be jealous ones; without his ring on your finger, they'll be malicious. Destructively so."
Honoria shrugged. "That's hardly a disaster. As you know, I care little for society."
"True." Michael hesitated, then added: "You might, however, have a care for our name, and our parents' memory."
Slowly, Honoria turned to face him, her eyes very narrow. "That was uncalled for."
His expression stern, Michael shook his head. "No-it had to be said. You cannot simply walk away from who you are and the fact that you have family connections together with the responsibility that entails."
Honoria felt chilled inside, like a general informed he'd just lost his last ally. "So," she said, haughtily tilting her chin, "you would have me marry for the sake of the family-for the sake of a name I've never claimed?"
"I would see you wed first and foremost for your own sake. There's no future for you in Hampshire, or anywhere else for that matter. Look about you." He gestured to the sprawling bulk of the Place, displayed like a jewel in the grounds before them. "Here you could be what you were supposed to be. You could be what Papa and Mama always intended you to be."
Honoria pressed her lips tightly together. "I cannot live my life according to the precepts of ghosts."
"No-but you should consider the reasons behind their precepts. They may be dead, but the reasons remain."
When she said no more but sat mulishly looking down at her clasped hands, Michael continued, his tone more gentle: "I daresay this may sound pompous, but I've seen more of our world than you-that's why I'm so sure the course I urge you to is right."
Honoria shot him an irate glance. "I am not a child-"
"No." Michael grinned. "If you were, this situation wouldn't exist. But-!" he insisted, as she opened her mouth to retort, "just hold on to your temper and listen to what I have to say before you set your mind in stone." Honoria met his eyes. "I only have to listen?" Michael nodded. "To the proposition St. Ives put to me-and the reasons why I think you should agree to it." Honoria's jaw fell. "You discussed me with him?" Michael closed his eyes for an instant, then fixed her with a distinctly male look. "Honoria, it was necessary he and I talked. We've both lived in society much longer than you-you've never done more than stick a toe in society's sea. That's a point St. Ives, thank heavens, is aware of-it's that that's behind his proposition."
Honoria glared. "Proposition? I thought it was a proposal."
Michael closed his eyes tight. "His proposal's on the table and will remain there until you make your decision!" He opened his eyes. "His proposition concerns how we should go on until you do."
"Oh." Faced with his exasperation, Honoria shifted, then looked across the lake. "So what is this proposition?"
Michael drew a deep breath. "Because of his cousin's death, a wedding could not be held inside three months-the Dowager will be in full mourning for six weeks, then half-mourning for another six. As you have no suitable family with whom to reside, what would normally occur is that you would remain with the Dowager and she would introduce you to the ton as her son's fiancee."
"But I haven't agreed to marry him."
"No-so in this case, you'll simply remain under the Dowager's wing. She intends going to London in a few weeks-you'll go with her and she'll introduce you to the ton. That will give you a chance to see society from a perspective you've never had-if, after that, you still wish to refuse St. Ives's offer, he and I will accept your decision and try to come up with some acceptable alternative."
His emphasis made it clear he did not expect to find one. Honoria frowned. "What explanation will be given for my presence with the Dowager?"
"None-Cynsters don't need to tender explanations any more than Anstruther-Wetherbys."
Honoria looked skeptical. "Surely people will wonder?"
"People will know, of that you may be sure. However, given the Dowager's involvement, they'll imagine an announcement is in the offing and comport themselves appropriately." Michael grimaced. "I should warn you, the Dowager is something of a force to be reckoned with."
Honoria raised a questioning brow.
Michael waved at the house. "You saw her just now. She's a consummate manipulator."
Honoria's lips twitched. "I had wondered whether you'd noticed."
"I noticed, but there's precious little point trying to resist. You called St. Ives a tyrant-I don't doubt he is, but that's probably just as well. Within the ton, his mother's considered a holy terror-of inestimable help if her sympathies lie with you, an enemy to be feared if they don't. No one's going to invite her ire by circulating possibly groundless rumors concerning her son and the lady who might be his duchess. There's no safer place for you than under the Dowager's wing."
Honoria could see it; slowly, she nodded, then looked frowningly at Michael. "I still think it would be much simpler for me to retire to Hampshire until all this blows over, Even if I don't get another post, as you pointed out, I am twenty-four. It's time I started on my travel plans."
Michael sighed, and looked away. "You can't stay in Hampshire alone-we'll have to get Aunt Hattie down."
"Aunt Hattie?" Honoria wrinkled her nose. "She'll drive me distracted inside of a week."
Michael pursed his lips. "Can't think of anyone else, and you can't live alone, especially once your sojourn in the woods with Devil Cynster becomes public. You'll find your self dealing with all manner of unwanted visitors."
Honoria shot him a darkling glance, then frowned, very hard, at the lake. Michael preserved a stoic silence.
Minutes ticked past; eyes narrowed, Honoria reviewed her options. She had, indeed, regretted sending for Michael so precipitously; it was clearly going to take time to track Tolly's murderer down. Devil, initially a large hurdle to her plans, had been overcome; he now behaved as a reluctant but resigned coconspirator. The idea of them, together, unmasking Tolly's killer was attractive-quite aside from the compulsion she felt to see justice done, the situation looked set to provide the excitement she'd craved all her life. Leaving now would see all that lost.
There was also the small matter of her burgeoning desire to experience-just once-the pleasure Devil had alluded to. His words, his caresses, like Tolly's face, now haunted her. He'd made it clear physical possession and pleasure were independent events-although the thought was guaranteed to bring a blush to her cheek, she was aware of an increasing compulsion to learn what he could teach her. Of pleasure. Possession, in this case, was out of the question, beyond all possibility. Cynsters never let go anything that became theirs-she was far too wise to become his on any level.