"Inscriptions, instructions, messages-even wills. You'd be amazed at what you come across."

"So at present it appears that the motive for the murder is some information noted in a book?"

"That's my best guess." The Grange gates loomed; deftly, he turned through them.

"What about the item Horatio wanted you to look at?"

"That remains a mystery. The fact that Horatio was killed just after he'd discovered it is looking more and more like coincidence. No one beyond myself and Covey knew he'd found anything. Covey knows no more than I."

"We'll have to search all the books."

"I have Covey doing that. He's used to handling old and valuable tomes-he'll be careful yet thorough."

He drew up before the Grange steps; the blacks pranced. Phyllida climbed down without assistance. On the steps, she turned and met his blue gaze. "Thank you." She didn't add anything more.

One black brow arched; he searched her face, consideration in his eyes.

She smiled, inclined her head, and turned toward the door. "Until next time."

She didn't look back to see how he reacted, but his wheels didn't start turning until she'd stepped over the threshold and Mortimer was closing the door behind her. Still smiling, she headed for her room. Why she was teasing him, she didn't know. She knew it wasn't safe.

She didn't know if she was teasing, either.

By the time she reached her room, her smile had converted to a frown. Lucifer was focusing on Horatio's books, which meant he'd be unlikely to go inspecting a writing desk. But he'd ordered new locks and he'd order them used, at least until the murderer was caught.

So she had a week's grace-the time it would take for the locks to arrive. She would have to search the Manor's upstairs rooms one night soon. Mrs. Hemmings had told her Lucifer had taken the room at the front right corner, leaving Horatio's room as it was.

Phyllida grimaced. "All I can do is pray that damned writing desk is not in the front corner bedroom."

Chapter 11

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Not to be outdone by the Fortemains, the Smollets had arranged to host a dance that evening. It was a large affair with guests driving in from miles around. Many Lucifer hadn't met; he spent half the evening being introduced and exclaimed over-he was the main attraction, after all.

While doing the pretty, he kept an eye on Phyllida. She'd arrived in good time with her father, brother, and Miss Sweet. Lady Huddlesford had swept in later, Frederick at her heels. Percy Tallent had not appeared.

In her gown of bronze silk, a simple gold chain around her throat and gold drops in her ears, Phyllida was the least fussily dressed woman in the room, and easily the most stunning. She drew many men's eyes, yet few, Lucifer realized, properly appreciated the sight. Cedric, Basil, and Grisby-those he paid most attention to-clearly viewed Phyllida as a desirable chattel, one that, if possessed, would add to their consequence. None of them seemed to see her at all. Fools, the lot of them.

Her expression serene, she did her best to ignore them, chatting instead with the many others present-doubtless dispensing aid and succor in various forms. Yet she could not entirely avoid her would-be suitors.

She danced the first dance with Basil, their host. By dint of superior strategy, Lucifer avoided the reciprocal fate; Jocasta Smollet danced the measure with Sir Jasper. Phyllida then danced a cottilion with Cedric; later, he saw her going down a country dance with Henry Grisby.

Her attitude at the conclusion of the dance-that of relief that her duty had now been done-failed to puncture Grisby's self-absorption. Less than impressed, Phyllida retreated to speak with the Misses Longdon.

From the side of the room, Lucifer watched her, and considered his best avenue of approach.

"There you are!"

He turned as Sir Jasper joined him.

"Wanted to ask-have you uncovered anything about this blackguard who stabbed Horatio?"

"Nothing positive. There's no evidence anyone rode in from beyond the village, at least not from the east. I've yet to check in Honiton, but at present, all signs point to the killer residing locally."

"Hmm. This intruder you surprised last night…?"

"May well be the murderer."

Sir Jasper let out a long sigh. He looked away, over the room. "I'd hoped, y'know, that it wouldn't be someone from round about. But if they're still searching…"

"Precisely. It can't be anyone from far afield. They'd be noticed."

"By the same token, given the way we all go about down here, riding day in, day out, it'll be hard to pin anyone down."

Lucifer inclined his head in agreement.

Sir Jasper remained beside him, a frown gathering on his face. Eventually, he drew breath and faced Lucifer. "This business of that hunter shooting at Phyllida…"

"Exactly what I want to know, too."

Sir Jasper and Lucifer glanced around as Jonas ambled up. Hands in his pockets, he met Lucifer's gaze. As usual, he appeared relaxed, ready for any lark. It occurred to Lucifer that, as Phyllida's calm serenity was often a mask, so, too,

Jonas's insouciant good humor concealed something more. There was certainly nothing insouciant in his hazel eyes.

"I know Phyl said it was a hunter, but I can't see it myself. Ridiculous time and place to go shooting. And whyever did she burn that bonnet?"

"She burned her bonnet?" Sir Jasper gazed across the room at his daughter.

"So Sweetie said." Jonas studied Phyllida, too.

"Why on earth would she do that?"

Because she'd been frightened and destroying the bonnet had been her way of putting the incident from her. Lucifer could understand that. For all her intransigence, Phyllida was too intelligent not to be afraid.

"What I want to know is: Is she in any danger?"

It was Jonas who voiced the question. To Lucifer's relief, it wasn't directed specifically at him; he couldn't answer truthfully. He shifted; it went against his grain to keep Sir Jasper and Jonas in the dark. To his mind, they had a right to know-had a right to protect daughter, sister.

Lips shut tight against any unwary word, he canvassed his options, but there wasn't any way to warn them that it looked like the murderer was indeed after Phyllida-they'd immediately ask why. "I saw her out walking, coming back from the church. I noticed she had a groom with her."

"Did she? Now that's a first." Jonas glanced at him. "I wonder why."

"Perhaps the shock of being shot at." Lucifer kept his tone light. "Who knows what goes on in the minds of women?"

Sir Jasper snorted. Jonas grinned.

After a moment, Sir Jasper said, "I don't like this business of a murderer running loose among us. No telling where it might end. I might just have a word with the male staff-no need to let Phyllida know."

"A general increase in watchfulness wouldn't hurt."

"She'll hear of it," Jonas said. "You know she will. Then she'll just reorganize things her way."

"Humph!" Sir Jasper's frowning gaze remained on his daughter. "I'll do it anyway. With luck, by the time she learns of it, we'll have this miscreant by the heels."

Lucifer hoped so. Leaving Sir Jasper and Jonas, he strolled down the room to negotiate with the musicians laboring in a corner. After that, he headed toward the chaise Phyllida was sharing with the Misses Longdon.

He bowed to all three ladies. They had barely exchanged five words before the opening bars of a waltz filled the room. The Misses Longdon tittered; neither danced, but they eagerly scanned the room to see who of their neighbors would partner whom.

Lucifer caught Phyllida's eye and bowed again. "If you would do me the honor, Miss Tallent?"

She inclined her head and gave him her hand. He raised her and drew her into the dance, into his arms. The Misses Longdon twittered furiously.

Phyllida danced well and was thankful for it-at least she didn't need to mind her steps. One less problem on her plate. The most pressing, literally, had her trapped in his arms and was whirling her effortlessly around the floor. For some silly reason, her wits and her senses seemed intent on following her feet into some realm of giddy delight, and that was far too dangerous.

There was an aggravated frown in Lucifer's eyes, a tightness about his lips, a tension in his body as it tantalizingly brushed hers-unquestionably all danger signs. She kept her expression mild, her gaze on his face.

"I've just had a most uncomfortable conversation with your father and brother."

She felt her eyes go round, her jaw drop. "How on earth did Papa, let alone Jonas, learn of last night?"

Lucifer stared at her, then his lips thinned. "We weren't discussing our interlude in the shrubbery. They don't know about that."

Phyllida sagged with relief. "Thank heavens!"

Lucifer all but shook her as they went around the turn.

"We were discussing whether you are in danger. Which you are."

"You didn't tell them?" She searched his eyes.

They glittered back at her. "No, I didn't. But I should."

"There's no reason for them to be worried-"

"They have a right to know."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I don't want them to know. It's pointless. As you saw, I'm perfectly capable of taking appropriate steps, and with luck I'll be able to tell you all soon, and then, one way or another, we'll catch the murderer and all will be well."