On a Wicked Dawn (Cynster 9)

Emily sat up. "Until you get a new shawl, you won't be carrying your red reticule — the one that matched it. Can I borrow it? It's just the right shade to go with my carriage dress."

"Of course." Anne looked up at the shelf above the wardrobe's hanging space. "It should be here somewhere."

Amelia glanced down at her notes. Emily and Anne shared clothes and accessories freely, a fact that had further disguised the lack in their wardrobes from the eagle eyes of the ton's matrons. She scribbled a reminder to make sure Anne had all she needed to go on with, given all indications were that Emily would shortly be leaving home.

"I'm sure it was here." Stretched on her toes. Anne pushed things this way, then that. "Ah — here it is."

She pulled the reticule free by its strings; with a grin, she swung and let it fly across the room to Emily on the bed.

Emily laughed and caught it, then her face registered surprise. "It's heavy. What on earth have you got in it?"

As she felt the contents of the reticule through the layers of red silk, Emily's expression grew more puzzled.

Amelia glanced at Anne, but the only expression on her face, in her brown eyes, was one of complete bemusement. "A handkerchief, some pins. I don't know what could be heavy…" But they could all now see the shape under Emily's hands. "Let me see."

Anne crossed to the bed, to Emily's side; Amelia rose and joined them. By then, Emily had tugged the reticule's strings loose; she eased open the top and looked in. Then, frowning, she reached in and pulled out—

"A quizzing glass." Emily held it up. They all stared at the ornately chased stem, at the tiny jewels winking along its length.

"Whose on earth is it?"

It was Anne who asked the question. Amelia looked at her — closely, sharply; no matter how hard she looked there was nothing but total befuddlement in the younger girl's face.

"And how did it get there?" Anne glanced back at her wardrobe, then swept around and returned to the shelf. Without Amelia suggesting it, Anne hauled all her reticules, all the hatboxes they'd already examined down. When the shelf was bare, she pushed aside the boxes and knelt beside the mound of reticules. She opened each one, and shook out the contents. Handkerchiefs, pins, a comb, two fans.

Nothing else.

Sitting back on her heels, Anne looked across the room. "I don't understand."

Neither did Amelia. "It's not your mother's, is it?"

Emily shook her head, still studying the quizzing glass. "I don't think I've seen anyone else with it either."

Amelia took the quizzing glass. It truly was heavy; she couldn't imagine any lady carrying such a thing. Anne had drawn near, frowning at the glass — entirely at a loss.

"It must have been put into yo

ur reticule by mistake."

Amelia slid the glass into the pocket of her day gown. "I'll ask around — the owner shouldn't be too hard to trace." She looked around. "Now, have we finished going through everything?"

Anne blinked, then looked about, somewhat dazedly. "I think so."

Emily gathered up the red reticule and jumped from the bed. "I've just remembered — it's our day to do the vases."

Amelia manufactured a smile. "You'd better get going then — there's less than an hour to luncheon."

They left the room; Anne closed the door. Emily popped into her room to leave the red reticule there, then rejoined them as they headed down the corridor. Amelia hung back as the two girls went ahead down the stairs; at the bottom, they turned and waved, then continued on to the garden hall.

On the last stair, Amelia paused. Emily had smiled, Anne had not. Doubtless, Emily had already dismissed the quizzing glass from her mind; she had too many far more pleasant matters to dwell on. Anne, however, was worried. Possibly a little fearful. But so she would be; despite being quiet, she was not unintelligent. None of Luc's sisters was.

Amelia stood in the empty front hall, hand on the newel post, gazing unseeing at the front door, then she sighed, re-focused, stepped down from the stairs, and headed for the study.

Luc looked up as Amelia entered the study. She saw him seated behind his large desk, but didn't smile. He watched impassively as she closed the door, then crossed the room.

As she neared, he realized her expression was unfamiliar — reserved, almost somber.

"What's the matter?" He couldn't hold back the question, started to rise.