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At Luc’s blank look, Devon prompted, “Blond curls, torn dresses. How could you have forgotten her? She followed us both around for a couple of summers. Well, actually she followed you. She adored you.”
Why was Devon asking about Honey? Of course Luc remembered her. She was…
Luc stood in stunned silence as realization dawned. Ria and Honey. They were the same person. Ria, Honey and Persephone. All the same.
Damn!
Devon got up, went to the sideboard, and poured brandy into two glasses. He handed one to Luc.
Luc tossed back the liquor, emptying the glass in a couple of gulps. Silently his friend took the glass, replacing it with his own.
Collapsing into a chair, Luc sipped at the brandy as he thought about Honey. She was the first, the only, person he knew who had complete faith in him. She’d believed him when he said she could climb the oak tree. And when she’d got stuck halfway up, she’d trusted him to rescue her. When she’d been scolded for ripping her dress, she hadn’t tried to blame him.
Just why had she been at the masquerade? Could her attendance and Danielson’s attempts to kill her be connected? Luc was arrested by that thought. Why had that not occurred to him before? Devon was right to call him a bonehead.
Mentally, he kicked himself. He should have read those papers she left him. They might have shed some light on what Danielson was up to.
Why had she gone to the masquerade? Why did she lie with him and then leave? Was Devon right? Had she deliberately sought him out? And why would someone try to kill her? It surely had to involv
e money.
Just as his thoughts began to coalesce, Devon’s voice intruded. As Luc looked at him, Devon repeated his statement. “As I said, you’ve been a bonehead.” He then added, “What are you going to do now?”
Luc looked at the report lying on the table then at Devon. Not wanting to put into words his partly formed theory, he merely said, “I’m going to London. I’ll get Pemberton to check the wording of Montague St. James’s will. It might shed light on why Danielson is trying to kill Ria. And I’ll make sure the bastard’s gone to Ireland.”
“Because you are a gentleman of honor and it is your duty?”
“Yes.”
Luc left the room to see to preparations for his journey to the sound of Devon’s laughter.
26
Solemnly, Flowerday presented a note addressed to Ria in now familiar writing. As she picked it up, her hand shook slightly.
She opened it carefully, but before reading it, she looked at Monty for reassurance. He was, as usual, sitting by the marble fireplace in the morning room. Idly, she wondered if he could feel the heat from the fire. If he couldn’t, what was the point? Habit perhaps? Or comfort. Something she was greatly in need of.
Ria turned her attention back to the note and read it. Briefly, she closed her burning eyes. Her throat felt tight as she told Monty, “The earl is in London but intends to return within the month to discuss our engagement.”
Swallowing hard to relieve the tightness in her throat, she looked at the postscript at the end. “Oh. He also says Geoffrey has gone to Ireland, apparently for an extended visit.”
Letting the note fall into her lap, she gave a small smile, the first in what seemed an age. “Well, that is one good thing at least. We no longer have to be concerned about Geoffrey and what he might say or do.” Sighing deeply, she added, “Now I just have to decide what to do next.”
She couldn’t see a way out of this situation. She couldn’t make Luc listen to her. So what should she do now?
The ever-present cloud of misery was like a weight on her shoulders making it difficult to find the strength to do even the simplest of things, let alone make any sort of decision. She was barely able to decide between a cup of tea or chocolate in the mornings.
She looked up as she heard Monty mutter, his words barely audible. “Deuce take it. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not the plan at all. Put the two of you together at the masquerade and what happens afterward? He turns into an idiot. Now how do I get you both out of this bumble-broth?”
Ria frowned, trying to make sense of what he was saying. It sounded like Monty had planned the whole thing. Surely not.
Incredulously, she asked, “Did you arrange this?”
At her words, Monty looked at her. Caught off guard, his expression confirmed her suspicion.
“You wanted us to marry.”
There was a pause before Monty answered. Ria could tell he was trying to find an explanation she would believe. Obviously he couldn’t, because he sighed deeply and nodded.
