His lips twitched, then curved into a smile. "How very clearheaded of you."
The dangerous purr had returned to his voice; there was a look in his eyes she didn't understand. Facing forward, she kept strolling.
The house lay just ahead, screened by the last bend, when he stopped her with a hand on her arm. She faced him, her question in her eyes. He looked down at her, his gaze disturbingly direct. "What actually happened?"
Phyllida held his gaze and thought about telling him. But it was a case of all or nothing-she'd seen enough of him to know she would have to tell him all once she admitted that she was there. He wouldn't let her keep anything back. And for once in her life, she doubted her ability to stand against a man.
This man was something else-some different species she hadn't before encountered. She was old enough, wise enough, to recognize the difference and acknowledge in her mind that she'd be unwise to challenge him.
Of course, not telling him was a blatant challenge, but that simply had to be. She would not break her word. She might prevaricate for a good cause, but her oath was absolute, and a vow given to a friend was sacred.
"I can't tell you. Not yet." She turned away. He stopped her, long fingers closing around her elbow. Her temper flared; she looked up at him. "I've kept my part of the bargain."
He blinked. "What bargain?"
"You didn't tell Papa you believed that I was there, in Horatio's drawing room, and so I took you around the village, introduced you to Horatio's acquaintances, and answered your questions about them."
He frowned, the gesture more evident in his eyes than on his face. His hold on her arm anchored her before him; she didn't bother trying to wriggle free. He studied her eyes and she let him; emotionally, she had nothing to hide.
"Is that why you thought I invited myself along?"
"That, and so you could try to trip me up. Why else?"
He released her, but his gaze held hers. "Couldn't I have wanted to spend time in your company?"
She stared at him. The suggestion was so unexpected, she couldn't at first imagine it. Then she did, and the truth washed over her-she would have liked it if he had. If he'd simply wanted to spend a summer afternoon strolling with her around the village, idly commenting, relaxed in her company. Her chest tightened; haughtily, she turned away. "You didn't. That wasn't why you came walking with me today."
Lucifer heard the calm statement but left it unchallenged. He watched her walk away, and let the impulse to correct her fade. She was such a contrary female-handling her was difficult, not to say dangerous; she was so different from the women he knew. God knew, he'd never before been so attracted to a virgin.
A stubborn, willful, innocent, headstrong, intelligent, far-too-untouched-for-her-own-good virgin.
It made everything so much more complicated.
Chapter 4
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He caught Phyllida up as she negotiated the last bend in the drive. The side lawn of the Grange opened before them; a knot of people were gathered around tables and chairs, enjoying the late afternoon. They both halted, but they'd been seen; Lady Huddlesford beckoned imperiously.
"Who are they?"
"Some of the half you've yet to meet." Phyllida searched the group; then she saw Mary Anne and felt giddy with relief. "Come. I'll introduce you."
They crossed the lawn. Lady Huddlesford, presiding over the gathering from a chair at a wrought-iron table, beamed delightedly. "Mr. Cynster! Excellent! I was just telling Mrs. Farthingale…"
Phyllida left Lucifer to fend for himself, something he was patently well able to do; he smiled, effortlessly charming, and the ladies all preened. Directing a general smile on those present, she strolled to Mary Anne's side.
Mary Anne stared at Lucifer. "He's…" She gestured.
"From London." Phyllida slipped her arm through Mary Anne's. "We need to talk."
Mary Anne turned huge blue eyes her way. "Did you find them?" she whispered as they turned from the group.
Mary Anne's fingers clamped like talons around her wrist; something close to panic filled her eyes. Phyllida inwardly frowned and drew her on. "The rose garden's more private. Pretend we're simply strolling."
Luckily, the entire gathering-Mary Anne's mother, Mrs. Farthingale, Lady Fortemain, Mrs. Weatherspoon, and a gaggle of other ladies, with Percy and Frederick for leavening-was hanging on Lucifer's every word. Phyllida glanced back as she and Mary Anne entered the yew walk that led to the rose garden. Lucifer's attention appeared fully engaged.
Surrounded by thick stone walls, the rose garden was a secluded paradise of lush growth, vibrant splashes of color, and rich, exotic scents. The instant they entered its privacy, Mary Anne's public demeanor crumbled. She swung to face Phyllida, gripping her hands tightly. "Say you found them! Please say you did!"