Devil's Bride

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evaporate. But she could hardly deny the request, particularly as it really mattered not at all. “Very well. But why?”
    â€œThe sensationalism will be bad enough when it becomes known he was killed by a highwayman. I’d rather spare my aunt, and you, as much of the consequent questioning as possible. If it’s known he lived afterward and we found him before he died, you’ll be subjected to an inquisition every time you appear in public.”
    She could hardly deny it—the ton thrived on speculation. “Why can’t we say he was already dead when we found him yesterday?”
    â€œBecause if we do, it’s rather difficult to explain why I didn’t simply leave you with the body and ride home, relieving you of my dangerous presence.”
    â€œGiven you appear impervious to the elements, why didn’t you leave after he died?”
    â€œIt was too late by then.”
    Because the damage to her reputation had already been done? Honoria swallowed an impatient humph. Between the trees, she could see a stone wall, presumably enclosing the park. Beyond, she glimpsed a large house, the roof and the highest windows visible above tall hedges. “Anyway,” she stated, “on one point Lady Claypole was entirely correct—there’s no need for any great fuss.”
    â€œOh?”
    â€œIt’s a simple matter—as Lady Claypole will not give me a recommendation, perhaps your mother could do so?”
    â€œI think that’s unlikely.”
    â€œWhy?” Honoria twisted around. “She’ll know who I am just as you did.”
    Pale green eyes met hers. “That’s why.”
    She wished narrowing her eyes at him had some effect— she tried it anyway. “In the circumstances, I would have thought your mother would do all she can to help me.”
    â€œI’m sure she will—which is precisely why she won’t lift a finger to help you to another position as governess.”
    Stifling a snort, Honoria turned forward. “She can’t be that stuffy.”
    â€œI can’t recall her ever being described as such.”
    â€œI rather think somewhere to the north might be wise—the Lake District perhaps?”
    He sighed—Honoria felt it all the way to her toes. “My dear Miss Anstruther-Wetherby, let me clarify a few details. Firstly, the tale of us spending the night alone in my woodsman’s cottage will out—nothing is more certain. Regardless of all injunctions delivered by her put-upon spouse, Lady Claypole will not be able to resist telling her dearest friends the latest scandal involving the duke of St. Ives. All in absolute confidence, of course, which will ensure the story circulates to every corner of the ton . After that, your reputation will be worth rather less than a farthing. Regardless of what they say to your face, not a single soul will believe in your innocence. Your chances of gaining a position in a household of sufficient standing to set your brother’s mind at rest are currently nil.”
    Honoria scowled at the trees, drawing ever nearer. “I take leave to inform you, Your Grace, that I’m hardly a green girl. I’m a mature woman of reasonable experience—no easy mark.”
    â€œUnfortunately, my dear, you have your cause and effect confused. If you had, indeed, been a fresh-faced chit just out of the schoolroom, few would imagine I’d done anything other than sleep last night. As it is . . .” He paused, slowing Sulieman as they neared the trees. “It’s well-known I prefer more challenging game.”
    Disgusted, Honoria humphed. “It’s ridiculous—there wasn’t even a bed.”
    The chest behind her quaked, then was still. “Trust me—there’s no requirement for a bed.”
    Honoria pressed her lips shut and glared at the trees. The path wended through the stand; beyond stood the stone wall, two feet thick and

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