"Phyllida-"
Lucifer argued, reasonably, then not so reasonably; Phyllida held firm. She wanted the matter settled, one way or another, today. In the end, Lucifer looked at the hat in her lap, then, lips compressed, shook his head and faced forward.
"Very well," he growled after a tense minute had crawled by. "We'll go to Ballyclose, and you can do the talking."
Nose in the air, Phyllida inclined her head, accepting his terms.
They rolled onto the gravel circle before Ballyclose's front steps half an hour later. A groom came running; Lucifer handed over the reins. He handed Phyllida down; she preceded him up the steps.
The butler smiled and bowed them in. He showed them into the drawing room, then went to confer with his master. He returned a moment later. "Sir Cedric's in the library, if you would care to join him there, miss. Sir."
Lucifer gave Phyllida his hand; she rose from the chair she'd only just sunk into. Carrying the hat before her, she led the way to the library. The butler held the door wide; Phyllida swept through. Cedric was seated behind his desk; he smiled and rose. Phyllida swept straight to the desk and plunked the hat down in the middle of Cedric's blotter.
Cedric stared at it.
Standing poker-straight before the desk, Phyllida almost glared at him. "Is this hat yours, Cedric?"
Startled, Cedric blinked at her. "No."
"How can you be sure?"
Cedric glanced at Lucifer, who had halted behind Phyllida, then, warily, looked at her again. Moving slowly, he reached for the hat, lifted it, and placed it on his head.
It was Phyllida's turn to stare. "Oh."
The hat sat on Cedric's head, propped high, well above his ears. It was patently too small for him.
All the steel went out of Phyllida; groping for a nearby armchair,
she sank into it. Then she covered her eyes with her hands. "Thank God!"
Lucifer closed a hand on her shoulder briefly, then held out his hand to Cedric. "There is a sane explanation."
"Glad to hear it." Cedric shook hands, then removed the hat and studied it. "Not but what this does look familiar."
Phyllida removed her hands from her face. "Do you know whose it is?"
Cedric grimaced. "Can't place it this minute, but it'll come back to me. I usually notice hats."
Lucifer flicked Phyllida a glance; she met it, but only briefly.
She looked at Cedric. "It's very important that we find out whose hat that is, Cedric."
He looked at her, then at Lucifer. "Why?"
They told him.
"The inscriptions," Lucifer said, having tactfully explained their existence, "did give you an apparent motive for wanting to remove books from Horatio's library and, potentially, to do away with Horatio."
Cedric blinked. "Because they might call my paternity into question?"
Phyllida nodded. "And therefore, Pommeroy could claim Sir Bentley's estate."
Cedric regarded her for a moment, then coughed and glanced down the room. He lowered his voice. "Actually, that wouldn't work. Papa worded his will specifically, naming me his principal heir. And as for Pommeroy, while there might be a question over my paternity, there's absolutely none about his. He's not Papa's son."
"He's not?" Phyllida looked horrified.
Cedric shook his head. "Not common knowledge, of course. Mama wouldn't like that."