Miles nodded. “And Tom?” He asked. “Did he come back with Sir Montague?”

“No,” Lizzie said. She flicked a look at Lydia. She did not want to add to her friend’s bitterness or misery if she could help it. Although Lydia had no illusions about Tom now, it was quite another thing to talk of his conquests in front of her.

“I do not think Tom came back last night,” she said quickly. “I do not know where he was or with whom.”

Dexter and Miles exchanged a look. Miles got up and walked across the terrace before turning back. Lizzie felt her nerves tighten further. She could feel the tension in Nat, too, wound tight as a spring.

“The servants,” Miles said slowly, “tell us that ten days ago, on the Friday, someone called on Sir Montague late in the evening. They could not tell us who it was but they heard raised voices in the library and thought Sir Montague might be quarreling with someone. Were you present, Lizzie?”

Lizzie closed her eyes for a moment.

Ten days ago, on the Friday night…

She felt Nat shift again and fiercely resisted the urge to look at him. On that Friday night she had been locked in the folly with him, lost to everything but the touch of his hands on her naked skin, the taste of him and the absolute searing need to make love with him…She swallowed hard.

“I know nothing of any visitors,” she said carefully. “I am sorry, I cannot help you.”

Miles’s hazel gaze was very keen on her face and Lizzie could feel herself blushing as though she was guilty of the murder herself.

“But you were at Fortune Hall that night?” Miles said.

“I…” Lizzie hesitated, unwilling to lie. “I was…I saw that Monty had had a visitor because there were two wineglasses on the library table, but…” Again she hesitated, seeing that the more she tried to help the deeper she was digging herself into trouble.

“Lizzie was with me that night,” Nat said. He took a deep breath. “She was with me last night as well, before Sir Montague returned home. I can vouch for the fact that after we talked she helped her brother inside the house.”

There was a very long silence. Miles looked at Dexter and raised his brows. Laura and Lydia and Alice also looked at each other and then, simultaneously, looked at Lizzie. The atmosphere was suddenly alive with speculation though no one said a single word.

Lizzie bit her lip hard. A wash of panic took her, depriving her of breath, followed by a second wash of fury. She looked at Nat. His expression was dark and unyielding.

“For pity’s sake, Nat,” she snapped, “there was no necessity for you to say that.”

“Did you want me to lie?” Nat snapped back. There was tension in the line of his shoulders and his expression was hard. He met Lizzie’s furious gaze with a fierce one of his own. “I don’t think you understand, Lizzie,” he said. “This isn’t a parlor game, it is a murder inquiry. Miles’s next question was going to be whether or not you killed your brother.”

“Well, not quite,” Miles said ruefully. He rubbed a hand over his hair. “May I clarify? Lady Elizabeth-” Suddenly he sounded extremely formal, “I apologize for the necessity of asking you this, but it is very important. Is it correct that you spent these two nights with Lord Waterhouse or is he merely trying to protect you?”

“Damn you, Miles-” Nat sounded absolutely livid. He took a step forward, but Dexter caught his arm.

“Nat,” Dexter said, “it seems that you are scarcely objective in this. Keep out of it.”

Nat set his jaw. He looked ready to explode, but he kept quiet. He was looking at Lizzie and his expression was dark and hooded, challenging her to deny the truth. Lizzie trembled beneath his gaze.

“To clarify,” she said. She cleared her throat. “I was with Lord Waterhouse on both occasions, although not all night.”

Miles inclined his head. “Thank you. The two of you were, I take it, alone?”

“We were,” Lizzie said. Her gaze slid to Nat’s furious face. He had himself under tight control now, but there was a pulse pounding in his cheek. He shook Dexter’s hand from his arm. “Lady Elizabeth is going to marry me,” he said.

“To clarify,” Lizzie said again, angrily, “I am not.” She looked at Nat. “We have had this conversation, Nat. You proposed. I refused.”

Nat swore under his breath. Lizzie sensed rather than saw the look that flashed between Alice and Laura. She knew that all her friends were absolutely desperate to brush the men aside and to ask her what on earth was going on. Alice knew-and no doubt Laura did, too-that she was in love with Nat. Alice had realized it before Lizzie had herself, and had challenged her about it months before. In fact everyone except Nat himself must know and she could only pray that he remained in ignorance, for she was not sure that her pride could take the blow.

“I am relieving you of your part in this investigation, Nathaniel,” Dexter said courteously. “You must see you have a major conflict of interest.”

Nat said something very sharp and to the point that made the ladies wince again and stalked over to the edge of the terrace.

“Lady Elizabeth,” Dexter said, turning to her, “I don’t think we need trouble you any further at the moment. Thank you for being so honest with us.”

“I don’t think Lord Waterhouse gave me much option,” Lizzie said bitterly.

“I will escort you back to Fortune Hall to start making the arrangements for Sir Montague’s funeral,” Nat said, coming forward.

“No,” Lizzie said. The panic clutched at her again. She did not want to be alone with Nat, not now that he had made their association public and would surely use it to press her to marry him. “No, thank you. I would rather do things alone.”

This time Nat swore aloud. “For God’s sake, Lizzie, must you always reject my help?”

They stood staring at one another as though the others were simply not there.

I cannot, Lizzie thought. I cannot take your help, Nat, I cannot rely on you as I want to, draw comfort from you, trust in you, love you as I want to do because it hurts too much. I will always want more than you can give.

She stood looking at him, seeing the puzzlement and the frustration in his face, seeing how much he cared for her and how that very deep concern and protectiveness only served to emphasize that he did not love her as she loved him. The pain of it felt like a red-hot coal against her heart. She had to send him away before he hurt her all the more, unknowing but none the less painful for that.

“Thank you,” Lizzie said again, wrenching her gaze from the burning demand of his, “but I would rather be alone.”

Nat swore again and walked off and Laura got ponderously to her feet and put a hand on Lizzie’s arm. Lizzie knew Laura must be able to feel her shaking.

“Lizzie,” Laura said gently, “would you like to come inside out of the sun for a little? You may lie down if you wish, or have a cool drink, perhaps…”

Miles kissed Alice’s cheek. “I will see you later, sweetheart,” he said. “We must try to find Fortune now.”

Lizzie realized with a shock to the heart that he meant Tom. Now that Monty was dead Tom would be Sir Thomas Fortune. She could think of no one less appropriate to be the squire of Fortune’s Folly. Worse, she would not even put it past Tom to have murdered his brother for the title and the potential riches that the Dames’ Tax and the other medieval laws would afford him. She shuddered at the thought. Then she saw Lydia’s face. It was a tight, white mask of misery. Lizzie felt dreadful. Lydia had been betrayed twice over by Tom. Bad enough for her that Tom had returned to Fortune’s Folly and was lording it about the place with his whoring and his gambling and drinking. Now he was Sir Thomas he would be intolerable.

She went across to Lydia and put her arms about her friend. “It will be all right,” she whispered, though she hardly believed it herself.

They went into the cool darkness of The Old Palace and Lizzie sank gratefully into one of the chairs in the drawing room. Alice poured her a glass of brandy and brought it over to her, pressing it into her hand.

“I know it is probably the last thing you want,” she said with a smile, “particularly if you took too much wine last night, but you probably need it.”

Lizzie forced some of the spirit down, recognizing as it bloomed inside her, hot and strong, that she had needed it. She shivered and Alice grasped her cold hands in her own.

“Lizzie,” she said. “Why do you not want to marry Lord Waterhouse?”

“You don’t have to tell us,” Lydia hurried to add. “We only want to help you and to be here if you want to talk…”

“And none of us will moralize,” Laura said. She looked down ruefully at her hugely swollen belly. “Goodness knows, I shall be producing what the matrons euphemistically call a seven-month baby which we all know was conceived before Dexter and I wed, and Alice was the talk of Fortune’s Folly when Miles seduced her-”

“And I am ruined twice over,” Lydia finished, “so who are we to criticize? We are the most scandalous ladies in the village.”

Lizzie tried to smile. It came out very lopsided. “Nat wants to marry me because he…because we…”

“We guessed that bit,” Laura said dryly. “You made love on the night before his wedding to Flora.”

“Yes,” Lizzie said dully. “We made love.”

Except that they had not made love. She knew that now. Oh, she had slept with Nat, had sexual intercourse with him; she had fornicated with him, as her old nurse, Mrs. Batty, would probably have put it, in her deeply disapproving way. But she had not made love with him because although she had loved him-and all the terrible hurtful things that he had said to her about wanting him for herself had been so shamefully true-he had not loved her in return.