Sharp-eyed matrons and shrewd observers departed, if not deceived, then satisfied that the proposed union was secure, stamped with the Cynsters' and others' unconditional approval, and all was as it should be.
A "suitable and felicitous match" was the ton's overwhelming verdict.
As the notes of the first waltz floated over the crowd, Amanda turned. Surrounded by their ladies chatting animatedly, Martin, her father, Devil and Vane stood in a group, tall, broad shouldered, arrogantly handsome, exchanging cynical comments-and keeping watch. Devil's gaze rested on Honoria; Vane's gaze flicked again and again to Patience. In her father, it was the habit of a lifetime. As for Martin, he caught her gaze, then took the step that closed the distance between them.
He smiled charmingly at the ladies with whom she'd been chatting, then his gaze returned to her face, "My dance, I believe."
"Indeed, my lord."
He took her hand and led her to the dance floor; she went into his arms and he whirled her away. Into the dance. Into their future.
Others held back, watching, then Louise and Arthur joined them, then Devil and Honoria, and Vane and Patience, then other couples stepped in and swelled the ranks.
"So far, so good." Martin looked down into her smiling face and felt equally smug. "I'd forgotten how such things were done."
"We're not finished yet-one appearance does not a solid facade create."
His smugness faded. "You mean I have to attend more functions like this?"
Amanda's dimple winked. "Perhaps not quite as intense as this. But you needn't think you can slink back into that great house in Park Lane, deeming your duty done."
He read the determination behind her smile. He glanced around, caught the odd disgruntled eye. "At least I no longer have to pretend to approve of those man-milliners you had in your train."
"They weren't man-milliners!"
They spent the rest of the dance in a bantering discussion of those gentleman who'd previously vied for her attention. When the music ended, they were besieged by those wanting to be able to claim acquaintance with the latest news. When the orchestra struck up again, numerous gentleman offered to partner Amanda; she smiled and declined, turned her smile on Martin and gave him her hand. "Perhaps we could stroll?"
With an easy nod, he excused them; covering her hand where it rested on his sleeve, he led her down the room.
They were stopped constantly; it was some time before Amanda could ask, "Have you heard from Luc?"
"He's somewhere here." Martin scanned the crowd. "He must have learned something… there he is."
They changed tack and came up with Luc, standing a few feet from a group that included his sisters and Amelia, surrounded by a court of earnest young gentlemen and some less young, focused on Amelia.
Luc nodded. "I can eliminate some names…" The introduction to a cotillion rang out; his gaze returned to the group. His attention didn't shift when his sisters accepted partners and headed for the floor; only when Amelia brightly gave her hand to Lord Polworth did Luc look back at them.
"Is there somewhere we can talk without being overheard?"
Martin nodded. "Devil said to use his study." He glanced at Amanda.
"We can go out through the side door."
She led them into the main house. The sounds of the ball faded. Reaching Devil's study, they walked in. A desk lamp was alight, turned low. Amanda adjusted the wick. "What have you found?"
Luc searched, patting his pockets. "Damn! I've forgotten the list."
He glanced at Martin, who wen
t through the same pantomine with no better result.
Amanda sighed, lifted her reticule, opened it, hunted, and pulled out her copy of the list. Luc held out his hand; she pretended not to see. Spreading the sheet, she held it so the light fell on it. "Now-who have you checked?"
Luc walked to her side; Martin came up on the other.
They all studied the list.
"Moreton." Luc tapped the list, glanced at Martin. "I was standing beside him when you made your entrance in there-he was genuinely delighted at the sight. He's no more capable of dissembling now than he was ten years ago. If he was the murderer, he would have been reeling. Instead, he was thrilled."