"Pommeroy is not fond of Cedric."
"So I gathered. That gives Cedric a definite motive to clandestinely remove books from Horatio's collection."
Silence fell. Phyllida stared at Lucifer; he looked steadily at her. "I can't believe Cedric's a murderer."
"What does a murderer look like?"
"Even worse, Cedric wears brown. Most of the time. I know he wears brown hats."
"Think back-have you ever seen him wearing the hat you saw in Horatio's drawing room?"
Phyllida considered, then shook her head. "I can't recall seeing him in that particular hat."
"Are you sure you'd remember it?"
"The hat? Yes, definitely. I looked directly at it. I nearly picked it up. If I saw it again, I'd know it."
Lucifer sat back. "If Cedric's our murderer, he won't still have the hat."
"No. He'll have got rid of it. Cedric may bluster, but he's not stupid" Phyllida frowned. "Did you ask Todd who rode out from Ballyclose that Sunday morning?"
"Dodswell asked. Unfortunately, Todd not only went to church, but then visited his brother-in-law's farm. He has no idea who rode that morning." Lucifer considered. "Could Cedric have been the intruder we chased?"
Phyllida grimaced. "Cedric used to be more athletic. If pushed, he could probably run as fast as the intruder."
"So Cedric's a possibility."
Phyllida fell silent; after a moment, Lucifer prompted, "Penny for your thoughts."
She glanced at him, then looked away. "Cedric wants-wanted-to marry me. If he's the murderer, then…"
Lucifer glanced at the clock, then stood and rounded the desk. "Come on." He held out his hand.
Phyllida looked up, her fingers slipping into his even without the answer to the question in her eyes.
Lucifer looked down at her. "You've forgotten the summer ball at Ballyclose Manor tonight."
"Good heavens!" Phyllida glanced at the window. "I had forgotten." She looked at Lucifer. "Perhaps…?"
He met her gaze. "We'll need to go carefully, but we can certainly test Cedric's interest in Horatio's books, and all they may contain."
Five hours later, stylishly gowned in pale blue silk, Phyllida stood by the side of the Ballyclose ballroom and watched the only one of her suitors who had succeeded in getting her to consider marrying him. He was standing across the room, charming the Misses Longdon; clinging to the shadows thrown by a large palm, she considered his tall frame, considered the dark locks rakishly framing his brow, the elegant black coat and trousers set off by his ivory cravat and an ivory silk waistcoat. Along with most of the women in the room, she savored the aura of strength and masculine confidence he so effortlessly exuded.
She'd hoped distance would help her gain perspective. With an inward sniff at her own susceptibilities, she forced her gaze from him and scanned the room. She'd sent Basil to fetch her a glass of orgeat; she hoped he would find some distraction along the way.
She needed time to think. Spending day after day by Lucifer's side was undeniably pleasant, but it made thinking sensibly about him difficult. And she definitely needed to think-about him, about marrying him. About what she wanted, about if she would.
His statement that he would never have seduced her if he hadn't intended to marry her had opened her eyes, not to his motives but to hers. She would never have allowed him to seduce her if she hadn't already loved him, even if she didn't understand what love was.
She'd always found the subject of love-love between a man and a woman-confusing.
Her mother had not lived long enough for her to form any useful view of her parents' marriage. The only other married couple she knew well were the Farthingales, and their relationship was based on mutual acceptance, not on any stronger emotion. Lady Fortemain's apparent excursions outside matrimony only muddied the waters further-she had always viewed her ladyship as the epitome of a gentlewoman.
No one had explained love to her. As for her reaction to Lucifer, she'd been suffering from self-assured blindness, convinced such an emotional development-the sort that looked set to bind Mary Anne and Robert for the rest of their lives-could never happen to her.
Out of the blue, it had. Lucifer had arrived and affected her life like an earthquake-everything had changed and was still changing. The new landscape hadn't yet taken final shape. She hadn't yet allowed it to do so.
Desire might have temporarily fogged her brain-it still did with just a touch, just one look from those midnight-blue eyes-but she was still her own woman, still in charge of her life. Letting the matter slide as she had with her other suitors was not an option with Lucifer. She couldn't ignore him; he'd created and occupied a place in her world that none of the others had. He was her lover.