Devil's Bride (Cynster Novels) by Laurens Stephanie

Author:Laurens, Stephanie [Laurens, Stephanie]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: HarperCollins e-books
Published: 2009-03-16T16:00:00+00:00

“If there was ever any doubt, that—” with a nod, Vane indicated the group about the chaise on the opposite side of the ballroom, “settles it.”

Standing beside Vane, one shoulder propped against the wall, Gabriel nodded. “Indubitably. Lady Osbaldestone hardly qualifies as a desirable interlocutor.”

Vane’s gaze was fixed on Devil’s broad back. “I wonder what Honoria said to get him there?”

“Whatever,” Gabriel said, pausing to drain his glass, “it looks like we’ve lost our leader.”

“Have we?” Vane narrowed his eyes. “Or is he, as usual, leading the way?”

Gabriel shuddered. “What a hideous prospect.” He wriggled his broad shoulders. “That felt like someone walked over my grave.”

Vane laughed. “No point in running from fate—as our esteemed leader is wont to say. Which raises the intriguing subject of his fate. When do you think?”

Considering the tableau opposite, Gabriel pursed his lips. “Before Christmas?”

Vane’s snort was eloquent. “It damn well better be before Christmas.”

“What had better be before Christmas?”

The question had them turning; instantly, restraint entered both their expressions. “Good evening, Charles.” Gabriel nodded to his cousin, then looked away.

“We were,” Vane said, his tone mild, “discussing impending nuptials.”

“Indeed?” Charles looked politely intrigued. “Whose?”

Gabriel stared; Vane blinked. After an instant’s pause, Vane replied: “Devil’s, of course.”

“Sylvester’s?” Brow furrowing, Charles looked across the room, then his features relaxed. “Oh—you mean that old business about him marrying Miss Anstruther-Wetherby.”

“Old business?”

“Good heavens, yes.” His expression fastidious, Charles smoothed his sleeve. Looking up, he saw his cousins’ blank faces—and sighed. “If you must know, I spoke to Miss An-struther-Wetherby at some length on the matter. She’s definitely not marrying Sylvester.”

Vane looked at Gabriel; Gabriel looked at Vane. Then Vane turned back to Charles. “When did you speak to Honoria Prudence?”

Charles lifted a supercilious brow. “At Somersham, after the funeral. And I spoke with her shortly after she came up to town.”

“Uh-huh.” Vane exchanged another look with Gabriel.

Gabriel sighed. “Charles, has anyone ever pointed out to you that ladies are prone to change their minds?”

Charles’s answering glance was contemptuous. “Miss Anstruther-Wetherby is an exceedingly well-educated lady of superior sensibilities.”

“Who also happens to be exceedingly well-structured and as such is an exceedingly likely target for Devil’s attentions, in this case, honorable.” Gabriel gestured to the distant chaise. “And if you won’t believe us, just open your eyes.”

Following his gesture, Charles frowned. Honoria, her hand on Devil’s arm, leaned close to say something; Devil bent his head the better to hear her. Their stance spoke eloquently of intimacy, of closeness; Charles’s frown deepened.

Vane glanced at Charles. “Our money’s on Devil—unfortunately, we haven’t found any takers.”

“Mmm.” Gabriel straightened. “A wedding before Christmas,” he slanted a questioning glance at Vane, “and an heir before St.Valentine’s Day?”

“Now that,” Vane said, “might find us some action.”

“Yes, but which way should we jump?” Gabriel headed into the crowd.

Vane followed. “Fie on you—don’t you have any faith in our leader?”

“I’ve plenty of faith in him, but you have to admit there’s rather more to producing an heir than his sire’s performance. Come and talk to Demon. He’ll tell you .

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