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She took him to the Manor by way of the lane through the village; it was too dangerous to walk through the woods with a predator, especially one in whose power she now was. Her father, of course, had no idea-he was impressed with the fiend, she could tell.
As she walked through the sunshine with him prowling beside her, she grudgingly admitted that if he hadn't been such a threat to her, she might have been impressed, too. He felt just as he ought to about Horatio. But being managed was a novel experience for her, one she didn't like. However, he hadn't done the unforgivable and given her the ultimate ultimatum-that either she tell him the whole truth, or he would tell her father she'd been in Horatio's drawing room. She was therefore willing to humor him.
She glanced at him. His dark hair shone mahogany brown in the sun. "You forgot your hat."
"I rarely wear one."
So much for that. She walked on. The village proper lay just ahead.
Lucifer looked at her; her bonnet shielded her face from his view. "I think"-he waited until she glanced up at him-"that, given we've formed an alliance of sorts, you'd better tell me what happened after I was discovered."
She studied his eyes, then faced forward. "You were discovered by Hemmings, Horatio's gardener. Mrs. Hemmings, the housekeeper, went upstairs, imagining Horatio to be there. Hemmings went into the drawing room to lay the fire. He raised the alarm and Bristleford, Horatio's butler, sent for Juggs and Thompson."
"To take me, as the murderer, into custody?"
Her bonnet bobbed. "Bristleford was overset-
he thought you were the murderer. There's a cell beneath the inn where prisoners are held awaiting transportation to the assizes. Thompson's the blacksmith-they used his dray to shift you."
"And where were you?"
She glanced swiftly at him, then away. A full minute passed before she said, "I was laid upon my bed with a sick headache-that was why I hadn't gone to church."
When she said no more, he prompted her. "You appeared in the cell insisting I wasn't the murderer."
"I didn't know whether you remembered."
"I remember. How did you come to be there?"
"I often borrowed books of poetry from Horatio. I recovered from my headache and thought I'd fetch a new volume. But just as I reached our front door, Aunt Huddlesford's carriage drew up. I'd forgotten she was arriving that morning, but all the arrangements were already in place-or so I thought."
The irritation in that last reached Lucifer clearly. "But…?"
"Percy and Frederick-I wasn't expecting them. They don't usually favor us with their gracious presence."
"I'd wager Percy's on a repairing lease."
"Very likely, but their arrival meant that I had to wait until our staff returned from church to give orders for extra rooms, and entertain them and Aunt Huddlesford until Papa and Jonas appeared."
"And when that happened?"
"I left as soon as I could, but when I reached the Manor, you'd already been taken away."
"Is this the inn?" Lucifer stopped; Phyllida did, too. The building beside them was a half-timbered structure, worn and a little shabby but still serviceable.
"Yes-the Red Bells."
"And Juggs is the innkeeper."
She started walking again. "He gets paid for holding prisoners, so you shouldn't judge him too harshly."
He swallowed his response to that. "What happened next?"
"I made sure they'd sent for Papa, then I came to the Bells." She glanced at his face. "How much do you remember?"
"Not all of it, but enough. You stayed until your father arrived, and then he rode home and was to send the carriage. The next thing I remember clearly was…"-he studied her eyes while he replayed his memories-"waking up in the witching hour."