On a Wicked Dawn (Cynster 9)

As one, he, Martin, and Lucifer had taken refuge in his study; beyond the doors, pandemonium — and their wives — reigned. It was, they knew without stating it, best to keep their heads down.

At Devil's suggestion, Lucifer had asked to be given a general overview of Luc's investment strategy. Martin had pricked up his ears, and asked to be included in the fun. He presently had them both working through the reports he'd used to decide on his last three investments — all speculative, all potentially high-yielding, all presently bidding fair to adding considerably to his wealth.

Glancing at Martin's and Lucifer's bowed heads, Luc smiled, settled into the armchair, and gave his attention to what might be his next venture.

Entirely unexpectedly — quite how it happened he wasn't sure — Luc found himself walking in the cool of that evening with Helena on his arm. When she directed him — imperiously as usual — to the shrubbery, his antenna rose, but he complied. With the westering sun gilding the tops of the high hedges, he escorted her into the first courtyard, then through to the next, to where the rectangular pool lay reflective and still.

Helena gestured to the wrought-iron seat set before the pool. He led her there, then waited while she sat. At her wave, he sat beside her, fixed his gaze on the pool, and waited, determinedly impassive, to hear whatever she wished to say.

To his surprise, she laughed, genuinely amused.

When he looked at her, she caught his eye. "You may lower your shield — I am not about to attack."

Her smile was infectious, yet… he knew well enough not to relax.

She sighed and shook her head at him, then looked out over the pool. "You are still in denial."

He wondered if feigning ignorance would get him anywhere; he doubted it. Sitting back, stretching out his legs, crossing his ankles, he followed her lead in watching the fish streak like quicksilver through the dark water. "I'm very happy — we both are."

"That does not require saying. Yet… you are not, to my thinking, as happy as you might be, as you would be, if the truth was faced."

He let silence stretch, acknowledging the reality in her words. "In time, I daresay we'll come to it."

Helena made a sound not generally associated with Dowager Duchesses. " 'Come to it'—what does that mean? I will tell you this, time will not help you. Time will only deny you days of happiness you might otherwise have."

He met her gaze, saw something in her pale eyes that was both humbling and compelling.

She smiled, shrugged, looked back at the pool. "It happens to us all — we each have to face it. For some, it's easier than others, but each one must at some point understand and knowingly accept. At some point, we each have to make the decision."

He hadn't thought… he started to frown.

Helena glanced at him; her smile deepened. "Ah, no — one cannot escape. That is true. One can only accept and reap the benefits, or instead, spend one's life fighting the invincible."

He laughed, albeit wryly. He understood all too well what she meant.

She said no more; neither did he. They sat as the shadows lengthened, both, he was sure, dwelling on only one thing. Eventually, she rose; he did, too. He gave her his arm, and they walked back to the house.

On Friday morning, from the window of his study, Luc watched Amelia and Amanda playing with Galahad, wondered, briefly, what confidences they were sharing. Briefly recalled his conversation with Helena, but a more immediate duty beckoned.

Carrying the paperweight he'd fetched from the windowsill back to his desk, he anchored the last corner of the plan of the house and grounds.

"They're setting up the tables here." Martin pointed with a pencil to the western edge of the lawns. "And there'll apparently be a fiddler and drummer over here — far enough from the house so their noise won't interfere with the quartet in the ballroom."

Lucifer glanced at Luc. "Are any of the people they've hired — musicians, extra hands to help in the kitchen or anywhere else — unknown to you or your staff?"

Luc shook his head. "I checked with Higgs and Cottsloe. Everyone they've brought in are locals — none has been out of the area this year."

"Good." Lucifer studied the layout of the house and the gardens surrounding the lawns. "If you were going to break in at night, from which direction would you come?"

"If I knew about the hounds, from here." Luc pointed to the area to the northeast beyond the rose garden. "That's woodland, quite dense. It's a remnant of the original demesne and has never been cleared. It's readily passable, but the trees are old — even in full daylight, the paths are shadowy and dark."

Martin nodded. "True. But if you didn't know about the hounds, then this would be the better way in." He traced a path from the west boundary of the gardens, across the la

ne to the home farm, then along the edge of the shrubbery. "Or, alternatively, if one came down from the ridge, then late at night coming in beside the stables might seem wise."

"Good cover all the way," Luc agreed. "However, I can assure you the hounds will send up an alarm if anyone approaches along that route."

Lucifer grimaced. "We'll have to hope he's smart enough to realize about the hounds."