All About Love (Cynster 6)

Jocasta mirrored the movement, then, smiling a touch brittlely, fixed her gaze on Lucifer. "I understand, Mr. Cynster, that you're considering life as a farmer. Basil tells me you're talking of setting up a stud."

"It's one of the possibilities I'm investigating. The fields and meadows of the Manor are currently underused."

"True, very true." Cedric frowned. "Tend to forget how much land there is, back of those woods of yours."

Lucifer regarded him. "Have you been that way recently?"

Cedric shook his head. "Can't rec

all being down that side of the valley for over a year. Not hunting country."

"Cedric hunts with the local pack," Jocasta said. "Will you be joining them, Mr. Cynster?"

Lucifer smiled. "I only ride hounds to ride, rather than to hunt."

Phyllida swallowed the observation that, for him, a fox was the wrong sort of prey. She stood and pretended to listen while inwardly she plotted. Eventually, Lucifer excused them; they left Jocasta with Cedric. Her hand on Lucifer's sleeve, she strolled with him through the milling crowd.

"Was it my imagination, or was Cedric less… fixated on you than when last we met?"

Phyllida blinked. "Now you mention it, yes. In fact, he seemed rather relaxed. He didn't seem perturbed that I've been helping you at the Manor."

"You know him better than I, but I would almost say he was relieved you were spending so much time at the Manor."

Phyllida looked forward. Lucifer was right. And how did she feel about that? "If he's relieved, then I'm relieved." She glanced at Lucifer. "I've known Cedric all my life. I've always considered him a friend; I never wanted him as a suitor."

Lucifer held her gaze, read her eyes. "And you don't think he's a murderer, either."

"No." She sighed. "It's so horrible, knowing how you feel about people but logically knowing it's possible."

"I detected not the slightest degree of consciousness over the books, or about my fields beyond the wood."

"No, that was simply Cedric. What you see is what there is."

"Speaking of facades"-Lucifer steered her toward the side of the room-"Jocasta Smollet was making an effort to be conciliating. I can't help suspecting she's the victim of some sad story." She struck him as a woman who'd missed her chance at happiness, yet still searched for it every day. "Perhaps that's the reason for her normally acid tongue."

Gaining the side of the room, Phyllida faced him. "Having usually been a target for her acid tongue, but then, almost everyone in the village is, you know, I hadn't really thought of it, but she does seem sad. I've never seen her smile or laugh, not happily, not for years."

"You don't know her story?"

"No. And that's really rather odd, because if I don't know, then it must be a secret, and in a village this size… that's amazing."

For a moment, they both pondered, then Phyllida shook aside her thoughts and looked into Lucifer's face. "I think we should search Cedric's room for the hat."

Lucifer's blue gaze fixed on her eyes. "Why? I thought we'd agreed he'd passed our tests."

Phyllida grimaced. "I like Cedric. I don't want him to be the murderer. Or my attacker. But you know as well as I do that beneath Cedric's genial bonhomie is an intelligent man, and the threat implied by those inscriptions is a real motive for him. It would destroy his life." She gestured about them. "It would destroy all this. And this simple country life is important to Cedric."

She studied Lucifer's face, then narrowed her eyes. "And despite what you just said, you haven't crossed him off the top of our list of suspects."

Lucifer's lips thinned. "No, but-"

"We owe it to ourselves, the village, and Cedric to turn every possible stone to determine whether he's the murderer or not."

"Searching his room for the hat." Lucifer fixed her with a gaze too patronizing for her liking. "As you yourself pointed out-"

"I know he should have got rid of it, but what if he hasn't? This isn't London-decent hats aren't easy to come by. He might have laid it aside, intending to get rid of it, but I've made no mention of the hat-even of being there that Sunday. He might reason nothing will ever come of it. Who knows-he might even have forgotten about the hat. It might be something quite different that he thought I saw."

She turned toward the ballroom door. "If you wish to remain here, / will go and search Cedric's room."