On a Wild Night (Cynster 8)

She counted, then nodded. "But why do you want him?"

"Because he needs to know the truth." When she frowned, he raised his brows. "I'm going to marry you, and I haven't even spoken to him yet."

She knew better than to argue, but made a mental note to be present at any discussion between her sire-a Cynster born and bred-and her soon-to-be husband, another rigidly protective male. She had no wish to find herself somehow excluded from the pending excitement.

Martin made three copies of their list of suspects. He was blotting the last when the front doorbell pealed. Picking up the lists, he rose, crossed to the daybed and handed a copy to Amanda; Reggie came up and took another.

The door opened; Jules stepped in. "Viscount Calverton," he intoned in his heavily accented English.

Luc walked in, his gaze swiftly roving the room before coming to rest on them, gathered before the hearth. Jules stepped back and quietly shut the door. Luc blinked, surprised to see Amanda and Reggie-even more surprised as he took in the bandage swathing Reggie's head.

"Good God! What happened to you?"

Reggie frowned. "Some relative of yours shot me."

"What?" Luc glanced at Martin; reserve infused his expression. "I received your… summons, Dexter." He gestured. "So here I am."

Martin grimaced, and waved him to the chaise. "My apologies for the phrasing-I needed you here."

Luc's brows rose. When Martin said no more, he came forward and sat, effortlessly graceful as ever, opposite Amanda. He shot her a hard, considering glance, then looked at Martin. "Why?"

Martin met his gaze. "I've just returned from Hathersage."

Concisely, Martin related all they'd learned. Luc listened, his concentration absolute. He didn't interrupt; Martin seemed to anticipate his questions, digressing here and there to fill in details. He ended his recitation at the point where he'd discovered his parents had realized the truth, and tried without success to find him. He concluded with his resolution to discover which of their joint relatives had committed the dastardly deed.

Martin fell silent, waited. Luc dragged in a huge breath. "My apologies. I should have known better, but… at the time, I honestly didn't know what to think."

Martin's lips lifted wrily. "As it happens, I can say the same to you."

Luc thought, then stared. "You thought / did it?"

"Well, I knew I hadn't. And I didn't know until yesterday that Sarah had been forced. If not me, then the most likely to have swept her off her feet was you."

Luc pulled a face. "I thought of her as you did-like a younger sister. To do that… it would be like casting covetous eyes on Emily or Anne." He shuddered.

"Quite." Martin sat on the daybed, stretching one arm along its back so his fingertips touched Amanda's frothing curls. He set the remaining two copies of their list on his knee, gestured to them. "We've made a start at defining the field-the murderer, presumably also Sarah's defiler and Reggie's attacker, must be one of these men."

He explained about his father's ledger; Luc remembered it. Taking one list, Luc scanned the names. "It can't be Giles or Cameron." He glanced at Martin. "I'd stopped at the Millikens' near Derby, so I reached Hathersage mid-morning. I didn't make it to the house. As I was crossing the yard, Giles and Cameron came out carting guns and a hamper; they challenged me to join them and I did. I was with them all day. We didn't get back until dusk." He grimaced. "When the commotion was over and the decisions made. We were told not to attempt to speak with you. They took you away an hour later."

His face impassive, Martin nodded, and considered the list. "That leaves nine."

Luc rescanned the list. "All were at the house when we got back that day." He glanced at Martin. "It's not going to be easy checking where people were, who remembers what, ten years after the fact."

"True, but we have something more recent to check. Who was on the Great North Road three nights ago?"

Luc looked at Reggie, perched on an ottoman. "They actually shot you?"

Reggie looked at him. "Would you like to see the furrow in my skull?"

Luc winced. "I'll take your word for it." He looked at Martin. "But why?"

"My guess is that he assumed I would be the man in the coach. Amanda and I were back down the road, before the curve before the turn-off, discussing matters. Reggie took the coach around the bend, intending to halt and wait for us. When the coach slowed, the murderer no doubt assumed it was turning for Hathersage. You know the place-it's an ideal ambush."

Luc nodded. He looked down at the list.

Amanda steeled herself to insist that Edward's name remain on the list, but instead of arguing that point, Luc nodded again. "Right. I can check these names more easily than you. I'll have to ask Mama"-he held up his hand to stay their protests-"without telling her, to get the directions of Oliver and Bruce, who I haven't seen in years. I should be able to run most of them to earth at their clubs."

Martin nodded. "If we can place people at a ball or any public function three nights ago, we can cross them off the list."