"That hadn't occurred to me," Martin murmured, "but you're right. Not only did the murderer have to learn of my departure, there was only an hour in which he could have heard."

"Actually"-Luc glanced at Amanda-"it probably wasn't your departure he heard of, but Amanda's."

"Mine?"

"Your recent entrance notwithstanding, your relationship hasn't been any sort of secret. If the murderer heard that you"-Luc nodded at Amanda-"were going to Scotland for a visit, he might well have assumed Martin would accompany you, and that you would stop at Hathersage."

"That makes more sense. There was very little time between me deciding and leaving." Martin looked at the list. "We have five names left."

"And I doubt we'll do better." Luc leaned against the desk. "I've checked four of those five, and none of them can offer verifiable evidence of where they were five nights ago."

Amanda blinked. "How can four gentlemen not be somewhere someone saw them?"

"Easily." Luc glanced at Martin. "Radley's the one I haven't had a word with yet, but you can bet he'll be the same as the others."

Martin grimaced. "I see."

"See what?" Amanda looked from one to the other.

Luc looked at Martin, then said, "Radley and the others are cousins, much the same age as us."

When he said no more, Amanda stared at him, then looked at Martin. "You can't mean…" She looked again at Luc. "All of them?"

He gave her a helpless "what-would-you" look.

"Humph!" She looked at the list. One name leaped out at her. "What about Edward? You're not going to tell me he wasn't doing his duty accompanying your sisters and mama to some ball."

The cynical look Luc bent on her was answer enough. "According to Cottsloe, our butler, Edward came home early, told Cottsloe to tell Mama he was in bed with a migraine and didn't wish to be disturbed, and left. He returned sometime during the night, but no one was awake to know when."

Her racing thoughts must have shown in her face, for Luc added, "I wouldn't read too much into the timing-he's done much the same before. Unfortunately, the… establishment he favors is usually afloat on gin. I wouldn't trust the word of anyone there. The same goes for the others-not the gin, but that they can't produce a reliable witness, which means we can't cross them off our list, but their movements don't necessarily make them guilty."

Amanda wrinkled her nose; she studied the list while Martin and Luc made arrangements to meet at Martin's house the next day.

She stared at one name, continued to frown. She was acquainted with the five men still on the list, although other than Edward, she knew them only distantly. The other four were as Luc had said, very like him and Martin; she had no difficulty imagining that they might have been visiting some lady whose name they wouldn't divulge. That was one thing, but to frequent an establishment that "floated on gin"?

She knew Luc too well to think he was exaggerating; if anything, he would have-and had-glossed over his brother's less-admirable predilections.

Which left her feeling decidedly equivocal about Edward. What sort of man actively posed as a long-suffering, righteous puritan to society, but secretly visited dens of iniquity?

"Come on." Martin took her elbow. "We'd better get back to the ballroom before imaginations become overheated."

Amanda stuffed the list back into her reticule and let him lead her to the door.

Chapter 22

Under orders from his prospective bride and mother-in-law, Martin called in Upper Brook Street the next morning, took Amanda up beside him in his curricle, then drove across Park Lane and into the park.

Tooling down the Avenue, he glanced at Amanda, noted her bright eyes, sensed the sheer triumph that gripped her-decided it made the sacrifice worthwhile. She'd assured him he only had to do this once; he'd deduced it was some strange rite understood only by the female half of the ton.

That deduction gained credence as the matrons and senior hostesses, sitting regally in their carriages drawn up along the verge, perceptibly brightened at the sight of them, then smiled graciously and nodded; Amanda smiled radiantly and nodded back. Martin contented himself with the occasional impassive nod to the more influential ladies and those he recognized as his parents' friends, and concentrated on guiding his high-bred bays through the obstacle course of the fashionable area.

They drew up to chat with the Dowager Duchess of St. Ives, and later exchanged pleasantries with Emily Cowper. Then they were through the gauntlet, past the last carriage; Martin let the bays trot. He was congratulating himself on having survived the ordeal, when Amanda tugged his sleeve and pointed to where carriages were queueing to turn.

"Now we go back again."

He glanced at her-she wasn't joking. He grumbled, but complied. He'd agreed to perform as requested until she and her female relatives-a pack of assertive and willful ladies-decreed his resurrection within the ton accomplished. Thereafter, he'd gathered, he could retire from the fray, returning for command performances, much as their husbands and sons.

He'd deemed it prudent not to mention he intended retiring for most of the year to Hathersage. As they drove once more between the lines of carriages, his home had never seemed more attractive.

They were back in the thick of things when Amanda grabbed his arm, squeezed so hard he felt her nails through his sleeve. "Look!" She pointed with her parasol.

He followed the line to two young ladies strolling in the sunshine, a gentleman following a few paces behind. "Edward, Emily and Anne."

"It's Edward." Amanda's tone was shocked. He glanced at her; the color had drained from her cheeks. She looked at him, eyes wide. "I never realized… at a distance, he looks just like you."

Martin swallowed a dismissive snort. "Don't get carried away-all five on our list look like me at a distance." He glanced again at Edward, but the press of traffic forced him to drive on. "He doesn't look that much like me."

"I know-that's my point. He's shorter and slighter and his hair isn't as bright. And his features aren't as strong. I didn't truly think he was that likely…" She swivelled to look back again. "But just now… it's the distance. It reduces everything to just proportions."

She faced forward again; a quick glance showed her face had taken on that stubborn cast he knew well. "If it is Edward-"

"Amanda-"

"No." She held up her hand. "I'm not saying it's proven, but just suppose it was him. How did he find out about us-you or me-going north…" Her voice trailed away; he glanced at her again. Her face had blanked, then she looked at him and excitement rushed in. "Amelia! We have to find her."

She looked around, scanning the lawns. "I haven't seen her… she wasn't with Mama, which means she's strolling, but she wasn't with Emily and Anne, and Reggie isn't about… there she is!" She grabbed his arm again. "Pull over. Quickly."

He squeezed the curricle between an ancient landau occupied by a bedizened old harridan with a yapping pug and a cabriolet overflowing with giggling girls. Who took one look at him and giggled all the more.

Amanda was all but jigging in her seat. Amelia had seen her waving madly; escorted by Lord Canthorp, she came strolling up.

Amelia touched fingers with her sister, smiled at him, then introduced his lordship. While he and Canthorp exchanged a few drawling words, Amanda and Amelia exchanged meaningful glances.

As a result, Canthorp received a pretty dismissal and was sent on his way. As soon as he was out of earshot, Amelia looked at Amanda. "What?"

Amanda drew breath, opened her lips, paused, then carefully asked, "The day I left for Scotland, did you tell anyone where I'd gone?"

Cornflower blue eyes reflecting her curiosity, Amelia nodded. "At Lady Cardigan's luncheon, Lady Bain and Mrs. Carr asked where you were."

Amanda's excitement faded. "No one else?"

"Well, no one else asked, but we stopped in the park on the way to the luncheon and met the Ashfords. It came out in conversation with them."

"It did?" Amanda gripped Amelia's hand. "Who was there-of the Ashfords, I mean?"

"The usual four-Emily, Anne, their mama and Edward."

Martin closed his hand over Amanda's, squeezing to silence her. "Amelia, think back. What exactly did you tell them?"

Amelia smiled. "That's easy. Mama and I discussed what we should say before we left home. We decided we should be deliberately vague. We agreed to say Amanda had gone north for a few days, nothing more."

They drove around the streets for an hour, debating the possibility that Edward-Edward!-was the villain they sought.

"You cannot-simply cannot-argue that it isn't possible," Amanda declared.

They'd parted from Amelia, both so subdued, so shocked, that Amelia had been openly concerned. Amanda had calmed her twin with a reassurance and a promise to tell all later, then they'd driven on, quickly leaving the noisy Avenue behind.

"I'll allow that it's possible." The deadened tone of Martin's voice told her he was, in truth, more convinced than that, but…

She glanced at him, at his stony expression. "If you're thinking that exposing him will cause Luc, Lady Calverton and his sisters pain, don't forget all the pain he's already caused people no longer able to seek justice."

The frowning glance he threw her told her she'd hit a nerve; she hurried on, "And we can't forget that, if he thinks he's got away with it, he might do something like it again. You cannot expect me to believe that half the men in your family frequent the stews. And, you see, Edward has built a reputation as steadfastly righteous, stuffy and pompous but always rigidly correct-you haven't been here to see it, but he has. Melly and I always thought it was his way of puffing himself up, especially because, although he's handsome enough, he could never hold a candle to Luc. Or you."