His gaze grew more intent; his lips lifted a little at the corners. The hand at her back tensed-
"Ah, Phyllida, my dear."
It was Basil. He walked toward them, not looking at them but surveying his guests. Lucifer was forced to release her. Phyllida edged back.
Reaching them, Basil glanced at them and smiled perfunctorily. "I wonder, my dear, if I could prevail on you to give your opinion of the punch. I'm just not sure…"
"Of course!" Seizing Basil's arm, Phyllida turned him. "Where's the punch bowl?"
She steered Basil down the room, away from Lucifer, and didn't once look back.
Despite that, she knew he watched her-kept watching her, waiting for another chance at her. No matter where in the room she went, she felt his gaze on her. Consequently, she was forced to conscript some gentleman-one of her village suitors or one of the others from farther afield who would gladly pay court to her if she gave the slightest sign-as bodyguard. They, unfortunately, didn't know they were guarding her.
One, a Mr. Firman from Musbury, insisted on fetching her a glass of punch; he left her by a window. Phyllida scanned the crowd; she couldn't see Lucifer. But the sense of being in danger grew… retreating to the withdrawing room seemed a good idea. She turned toward the door-
And walked into a familiar chest.
She all but leaped back. She glared at him. "Stop it!"
He raised his brows, all innocence. "Stop what?"
"This! You know you can't"-she gestured with both hands-"seduce me in a ballroom."
"Who wrote that rule?" He studied her eyes, then added, "I'll admit it's a greater challenge, but…"
His voice had deepened to a suggestive purr. Phyllida flashed him a repressive look and turned to scan those nearby, hoping to see Mr. Firman or some other useful soul… Robert Collins was standing quietly by the wall.
Lucifer had followed her gaze. "I thought the hostesses hereabouts didn't encourage Mr. Collins."
"They don't and Jocasta's no different, she's just more cruel. She knows inviting Robert will irritate Mr. Farthingale, reinforcing his opposition, which quite rains Mary Anne's delight in having Robert here. Robert, of course, is helpless to decline the invitation-he gets so few opportunities to see Mary Anne in such surrounds."
Phyllida was conscious that, just for a moment, Lucifer's attention drifted from her. She glanced at him; he was studying the guests.
"Miss Smollet," he murmured, "seems to have a rather peculiar notion of what constitutes entertainment."
Phyllida quietly humphed. She was saved from having to find some other distraction by Mr. Firman's return. He handed her her glass; to gain a moment, she introduced him to Lucifer, only to discover that Mr. Firman had been waiting to talk to Mr. Cynster all evening.
Mr. Firman, it transpired, was the owner of a cattle stud.
Phyllida learned that that was a subject on which Lucifer wished to extend his knowledge. Not only did Mr. Firman talk, but Lucifer listened and asked questions.
The opportunity was too good to pass up. Phyllida edged away; Lucifer shot her a glance but was trapped in the ongoing discussion. Mr. Firman was not someone he wanted to offend.
Phyllida gave her glass to a footman, then joined Robert Collins by the wall.
He glanced at her-there was a painful intensity in his eyes that Phyllida didn't like to see. He pressed her hand. "Mary Anne told me about the letters." He looked across the room to where Mary Anne stood chatting with two young ladies. "How I wish I'd never urged her to write to me."
The bitterness in his words had Phyllida frowning. "It's the letters I wanted to speak to you about."
Robert's head whipped around, hope naked in his face. "You've found them?"
"No. I'm sorry…"
Robert sighed. "No-I'm sorry. I know you will and I'm grateful for your help. I've no right to press you." After a moment, he asked, "What did you want to know?"
Phyllida took a deep breath. "I have to ask you this because it's important, and whenever I try to talk to Mary Anne on the subject, she becomes quite hysterical. But I need to know this, Robert-and if I don't get a sensible answer, I don't know that I can keep searching for those letters in secret. So tell me-what is it about them that makes them so dangerous to you and Mary Anne?"
Robert stared at her, the image of a rabbit cornered. Then he swallowed and looked away. "I can't tell you-not in so many words."