"Why not now?"
"It's not the right time."
When Phyllida surfaced from the next kiss, she managed to breathe, "When will be the right time?"
"Soon."
The next kiss made it clear that that was all the answer she would get that night. But he'd told her enough, shown her enough; she was content.
Content to let him awaken her, slowly, expertly, until she floated, languid, on a sea of anticipation. They drew back, turned; arms around each other, her head on his shoulder, they strolled through the garden-redolent with perfumes, burgeoning growth, and the never-ending promise of love-back to the house, to the bed, to the love they already shared.
Day followed day and the tension mounted. Jonas spent most of his time at the Manor; Sir Jasper called at least twice a day. Even Sweetie seemed more highly strung, although Lucifer wasn't sure how much she understood. She was the sweetest ditherer he'd ever met, and he knew quite a few; the idea of introducing her to his great-aunt Clara grew to an obsession.
The only thing that, however transiently, broke the tedium and, temporarily, the escalating tension was the replies that arrived from other collectors. The responses distracted Phyllida, and for that Lucifer was grateful. Unfortunately, although all of them expressed horror over Horatio's demise, none had any light to shed on the twin mysteries surrounding Horatio's collection.
Doggedly, Lucifer and Phyllida plowed through it, searching for… something. Some hint as to why Horatio had been killed, some hint as to what he had wanted Lucifer to appraise. Although no one stated it aloud, they were aware they had no idea what they were looking for. That put a definite dampener on their enthusiasm.
By Wednesday afternoon, Lucifer started to wonder why he'd received no further communication from Devil. His cousin was never one to drag his boots. The answer to his question arrived late that evening, just as he, Phyllida, and Sweetie were rising from the dining table.
The rattle of wheels on the drive was followed by the heavy thud of stamping hooves. Lucifer looked at Phyllida. "That, I believe, will be Devil's messenger."
It was-but it was a vision with guinea-gold curls and a neat figure encased in cerulean blue that first reached the front door.
"Felicity!" Lucifer went forward, hands outstretched. He should, of course, have expected it, but he hadn't thought things through.
"Hello!" Demon's youthful wife took his hands and raised her face for a cousinly kiss, but her gaze had already traveled past him. "And you must be Phyllida." Releasing Lucifer, Felicity stepped past him and descended on Phyllida. "Honoria wrote and told me. I'm Felicity. We've come to help."
Phyllida smiled-impossible not to when faced with Felicity's charm. She could see no point in dissembling, so she touched cheeks and clasped hands as if they were already related.
"Good God! You're almost at Land's End."
Phyllida looked up to see a tall, broad-shouldered, fair-haired Cynster shake Lucifer's hand.
"Not quite-it's a few miles farther on." Lucifer grinned and clapped Demon's shoulder. "It's good to see you." He glanced at Felicity. "Are you sure you can spare the time?"
Turning from greeting Sweetie, Felicity shot a warning glance at her husband, tilted her chin at Lucifer, and slipped her arm into Phyllida's. "We were with Vane and Patience when Devil's and Honoria's letters arrived."
Demon came forward. Taking the hand Phyllida held out, he calmly kissed her on both cheeks. "Welcome to the family, my dear. We did tell him running into the country wouldn't help-and here he is, right enough. Captivated."
Phyllida looked into a pair of blue eyes many shades lighter than Lucifer's. They did, however, contain a familiar devil-may-care gleam. She ignored it. "Welcome to the Manor and to Colyton, too."
"Perhaps…?" Lucifer cocked an eyebrow at Phyllida.
He was asking her to act as his hostess-as his wife. With a calm smile, she gestured to the drawing room. "Why don't we sit comfortably and you can tell us the family news. You must be parched. Have you dined?"
"At Yeovil," Felicity replied. "We weren't sure how much further Colyton was. Demon didn't want to take any chances."
Lucifer blinked, but said nothing. He ushered Felicity and Demon into the drawing room. Phyllida gave orders to Bristleford to prepare rooms and bring the tea trolley in, then joined them.
"Well," Felicity said as Phyllida joined her on the chaise, "you two seem to be having all the excitement in the family at present, so we came to share. Honoria would have come, but in her condition Devil refuses to let her as far as the front door. And Vane's much the same-he seems to imagine Patience is made of bone china. Scandal was tempted, but Catriona agreed he could come if he brought her, so they're still at Somersham. And no one has any idea where Gabriel and Alathea are." She smiled at Lucifer. "So it's just us, I'm afraid."
The ingenuous speech had made Lucifer blanch-its conclusion revived him. "Thank God!" He glanced at Demon. "I didn't expect the whole troop to descend."
Demon shrugged. "It's summer-what else have we to do?"
Bristleford entered with the tea trolley and plates of cakes. They broke off to partake; Phyllida and Felicity sipped and nibbled delicately while they chatted; Demon and Lucifer settled for brandy and demolishing the cakes.
"So," Lucifer said as Demon finished the last cake. "Cut line-what have you learned?"
Demon didn't glance his way; his gaze was fixed on the chaise. Following it, Lucifer was just in time to see Felicity try to smother, then hide, a yawn.
"On the other hand," Lucifer said, "it's getting late and you'll need to get settled. Is there anything that won't wait until morning?"
Demon threw him a grateful look. "No." He considered, then shook his head and stood. "There's nothing that'll make any difference tonight, and I'd rather you told us what's been happening here before I fill you in on my discoveries, minor though they are. Knowing the details will help me set what I found in better perspective."
Phyllida stood, drawing Felicity with her. She'd seen the yawn and caught the earlier, fleeting reference, too. "Indeed. A good night's sleep all around, then we can start first thing in the morning." She smiled at Felicity. "Come, I'll introduce you to Mrs. Hemmings and show you your room."
They all met the next morning at the breakfast table. Rested and refreshed, Flick-she insisted everyone call her that-was agog to hear their tale. Demon, relieved of his own anxiety, was similiarly eager. Lucifer and Phyllida started their story over the teacups, then continued when they adjourned to the library. Concisely, they described incident after incident; Demon interrupted with a question here and there. Flick sat and simply stared.
"How atrocious!" she declared when they'd concluded their tale. "That's monstrous-leaving you to die in a burning cottage!"
Phyllida agreed.
Lucifer looked at Demon. "So what's the news from London?"
"First of all, your neighbors are exceedingly law-abiding souls-Montague gave them all a clean bill of health. No debts, no peculiar past histories, nothing. All he found on Appleby was that he's the illegitimate son of a minor peer-old Croxton, now deceased. His papa was not fond, but did educate him and pave the way into the army. Infantry-you were right about that."
"So," Lucifer concluded, "Appleby is an impoverished ex-infantryman with an education sufficient to allow him to serve as a gentleman's amanuensis."
"Yes, but there's more. Appleby was the only one on your list who'd served in any capacity, so I had a relatively easy time. I tracked down his regiment-he saw action at Waterloo." Demon glanced at Lucifer. "He was with the Ninth. I managed to locate his immediate superior, a Captain Hastings. That's where things got interesting. I had to all but drink Hastings under the table to wring the nightmare from him, but it transpires that Hastings suspects that Appleby committed murder on the battlefield."