A violin hummed, then screeched. Phyllida turned to Lucifer. "I believe that's our waltz commencing."
Lucifer bowed and took her hand. He nodded to Basil. "You'll excuse us, Smollet."
No question, of course; Basil bowed stiffly. With a bob, Phyllida turned on Lucifer's arm and let him lead her to the floor. She went into his arms, following his lead without thought; after a moment, she felt his hand stroke her back.
"Relax."
She threw him a glance-one she knew he would interpret correctly. "Where he ever got the idea that he owned me, that he could simply appropriate me and dictate my life, I have no notion."
Lucifer said nothing. He drew her closer, just enough so their bodies brushed lightly as they whirled. She softened, relaxing into his embrace.
"Not all men are like that, surely?" She glanced around them. "Well, of course they're not, but just look at Basil, and Cedric, and Henry Grisby. No woman of sense would marry such a man." After a moment, she added, "Perhaps it's something in the water hereabouts."
Lucifer held her protectively tighter as they went through the turn, then he murmured, "Appleby. How long's he been with Cedric?"
"Appleby?" Phyllida scanned the dancers. "He's been here… well, it seems a long time, but he only joined the household last February. Why?"
"I wondered before if he'd been in the military-I think he must have been. He seems popular with the ladies."
"He is. They approve of his style and his person, and his behavior is such as must please."
"You don't sound particularly taken."
"I've never seen the attraction, I must confess." Lucifer was glad to hear it; her tone left no doubt she found the other ladies' interest puzzling. Her comments on Basil were less reassuring.
"I think," she said, "that it's time to speak to Cedric." Lucifer glanced at their host, now listening to Lady Huddlesford. "At the end of this dance. Follow my lead."
"What tack do you intend to take? You can hardly walk up and ask if he was aware he might be illegitimate."
"I thought I'd ask if he was interested in acquiring any of Horatio's tomes." Lucifer looked to where Silas Coombe, resplendent in a green silk coat and a canary-yellow waistcoat, stood conversing. "How likely is Coombe to have mentioned to anyone that I don't intend to break up Horatio's collection?"
"Silas is an inveterate gabblemonger."
"In that case, I'll have to watch my phrasing." The music ended. Lucifer released Phyllida, raised her from her curtsy, then tucked her hand in his arm and strolled toward Cedric. He was with Lady Huddlesford. Everyone exchanged bows; then her ladyship, overwhelming in bronze bombazine, regally glided away.
Cedric smiled at Phyllida, then looked at Lucifer. "Well, sir, I hope our simple country gathering measures up in some small way against what you're accustomed to."
"It's been a thoroughly felicitous evening," Lucifer returned. "Your mother is to be congratulated, as I've already told her."
"Indeed, indeed. Mama delights in these sorts of affairs. She used to be a feature in the capital before the pater's health forced them to retire here. You may be sure she's pleased to have reason to entertain in such style again."
"If that's so, then I'm pleased to have been of service." Lucifer considered the bluff geniality that colored Cedric's expression. Was it a facade, or his true nature? "I don't know if you've heard, but I've decided to keep Horatio's library essentially intact."
"Ah, yes! I did hear Silas bemoaning that fact. He seemed to think some of Horatio's collection would be better housed with his own."
"Unfortunately for Coombe, my mind is made up, in the general sense. However, in checking Horatio's records, I noticed he'd acquired some volumes from your library."
Cedric was nodding. "Before his death, the pater-greatly taken with Horatio, he was-went through the library and sold quite a few tomes to him."
"Indeed. As your father is now dead, and as I'll be preserving the collection more as a memorial to Horatio than from any real interest of my own, I wondered if you wished to repurchase any of those books. At the same price Horatio paid your father, of course."
Cedric pulled a face. "Not much of a book man myself. I always thought it wise of the pater to get rid of a few of the books. There's a blessed lot left if you're interested."
Lucifer smiled easily. "It's not my field."
"Ah, well, worth a try." Cedric turned to Phyllida. "Now, my dear, we've been neglecting you shamefully. I hear you've been spending your days at the Manor."
Cedric glanced at Lucifer; Phyllida stiffened. If he intimated she just sat there, twiddling her thumbs…
Cedric looked back at her. "Daresay there's all manner of things you've been helping Cynster with, heh?"
Her stiffness easing, Phyllida inclined her head. "Indeed." She glanced at Lucifer. "All manner of things."
Lucifer's dark eyes smiled at her, then his gaze went past her and he bowed. "Miss Smollet."
Phyllida turned as Jocasta joined them. Jocasta exchanged greetings with Cedric, then glanced at her. Phyllida inclined her head.
Jocasta mirrored the movement, then, smiling a touch brittlely, fixed her gaze on Lucifer. "I understand, Mr. Cynster, that you're considering life as a farmer. Basil tells me you're talking of setting up a stud."
"It's one of the possibilities I'm investigating. The fields and meadows of the Manor are currently underused."
"True, very true." Cedric frowned. "Tend to forget how much land there is, back of those woods of yours."
Lucifer regarded him. "Have you been that way recently?"
Cedric shook his head. "Can't recall being down that side of the valley for over a year. Not hunting country."
"Cedric hunts with the local pack," Jocasta said. "Will you be joining them, Mr. Cynster?"
Lucifer smiled. "I only ride hounds to ride, rather than to hunt."
Phyllida swallowed the observation that, for him, a fox was the wrong sort of prey. She stood and pretended to listen while inwardly she plotted. Eventually, Lucifer excused them; they left Jocasta with Cedric. Her hand on Lucifer's sleeve, she strolled with him through the milling crowd.
"Was it my imagination, or was Cedric less… fixated on you than when last we met?"
Phyllida blinked. "Now you mention it, yes. In fact, he seemed rather relaxed. He didn't seem perturbed that I've been helping you at the Manor."
"You know him better than I, but I would almost say he was relieved you were spending so much time at the Manor."
Phyllida looked forward. Lucifer was right. And how did she feel about that? "If he's relieved, then I'm relieved." She glanced at Lucifer. "I've known Cedric all my life. I've always considered him a friend; I never wanted him as a suitor."
Lucifer held her gaze, read her eyes. "And you don't think he's a murderer, either."
"No." She sighed. "It's so horrible, knowing how you feel about people but logically knowing it's possible."
"I detected not the slightest degree of consciousness over the books, or about my fields beyond the wood."
"No, that was simply Cedric. What you see is what there is."
"Speaking of facades"-Lucifer steered her toward the side of the room-"Jocasta Smollet was making an effort to be conciliating. I can't help suspecting she's the victim of some sad story." She struck him as a woman who'd missed her chance at happiness, yet still searched for it every day. "Perhaps that's the reason for her normally acid tongue."
Gaining the side of the room, Phyllida faced him. "Having usually been a target for her acid tongue, but then, almost everyone in the village is, you know, I hadn't really thought of it, but she does seem sad. I've never seen her smile or laugh, not happily, not for years."
"You don't know her story?"
"No. And that's really rather odd, because if I don't know, then it must be a secret, and in a village this size… that's amazing."