All About Love (Cynster 6)

"That last is unfortunately true." Obedient to the touch on her arm, Phyllida moved to the side of the room.

"So I'd gathered." Lucifer was looking ahead. "Our last potential suspect is scanning the bookshelves."

She'd guessed who it was before they stepped around the Farthingales and came face-to-face with Silas Coombe, fingering a gold-plated spine. He snatched his hand back as if the book had bitten him and stared at them, blank-faced.

"Good day. Mr. Coombe, is it not?" Lucifer smiled. "Miss Tallent mentioned you know something of books. Horatio's amassed quite a collection, don't you think?"

His glance along the shelves clearly invited Silas's opinion. It was a masterly stroke. Phyllida practiced self-effacement while Silas waxed lyrical, putty in the hands of a gentleman he didn't even realize was his interrogator.

"Well, I don't normally confess this, but you're a gentleman who knows a bit about life." Silas lowered his voice.

"Not much of a churchgoer, you understand. Got out of the habit in my youth-can't see the point in rubbing shoulders with all the starched-up matrons, not at my age. I've better things to do with my time."

Silas's gaze ranged the nearby shelves. "I don't suppose you have any idea who will inherit these, do you?"

Lucifer shook his head. "No doubt we'll learn soon enough."

"Ah, yes-the solicitor fellow's here, isn't he?" Silas scanned the room, then frowned. "He's staring at you."

Lucifer looked; Phyllida did, too. It was instantly apparent that Mr. Crabbs was hovering, hoping for a word.

"If you'll excuse us," Lucifer murmured, "I'll see what he wants."

The instant they stepped away, Crabbs headed toward them. Lucifer stopped by the bookshelves and waited. Crabbs smiled perfunctorily as he joined them.

"Mr. Cynster, I just wanted to be sure that it would be convenient to read the will immediately the guests leave."

"Convenient?" Lucifer frowned. "For whom?"

"Why, for you" Mr. Crabbs searched Lucifer's face. "Well, dear me-I assumed you knew."

"Knew what?"

"That, barring some minor bequests, you are the sole principal beneficiary of Mr. Welham's will."

Crabbs's statement had been uttered within the hearing of Lady Huddlesford, Percy Tallent, and Sir Cedric and Lady Fortemain. Within seconds, all of Colyton had heard the news. The wake terminated as if a gong had sounded. People quickly took their leave, their alacrity plainly due to a wish to have the unexpected details of the will disclosed as soon as possible.

Despite the fact that the reading had been attended by very few, for the last hour the attention of Colyton had been focused on Horatio's library.

Pushing back from the desk, Lucifer laid the will down.

He'd just finished going through it a second time with Crabbs, making sure he understood the details. For someone familiar with the complex assignment of a ducal purse, Horatio's stipulations were straightforward. Leaning back in the leather chair, Lucifer scanned the room.

At one corner of the desk, Crabbs sat checking documents. At the sideboard, his assistant, Robert Collins, was carefully packing a satchel. The Hemmingses', Covey, and Bristleford had slipped out after the reading, all intensely relieved, all clearly pleased with the outcome.

For himself, Lucifer was… faintly stunned.

"Ah-hem."

He looked at Crabbs, then raised a brow.

"I was wondering if you planned to sell the Manor. I could get matters started if you wish."

Lucifer stared at Crabbs without seeing him. Then he shook his head. "I don't intend to sell."

The statement surprised him more than Crabbs, but when impulse struck this strongly, it rarely served to fight it. "Tell me." He refocused on Crabbs. "Were there any others who might have expected to inherit?"

Crabbs shook his head. "There was no family-not even any legal connections. The estate was Mr. Welham's outright, his to leave as he pleased."