All About Love (Cynster 6)

With a nod to Lucifer, Mr. Curtiss, still beaming, withdrew.

"Mr. Filing's company?" Lucifer asked as they entered the Dragon's courtyard and headed for the curricle.

Phyllida unfurled her parasol. "Of course. No mere female could operate an import company."

Lucifer smiled. "Naturally not."

He handed her into the curricle. Minutes later, they were bowling back toward Axminster. "Tell me-just so I don't inadvertently cause a problem. Am I right in assuming no one other than those involved knows of your involvement in the Company?"

"Of course not. There's no reason for others to know. In fact, not all of the men know-most think Filing runs it and I'm just his amanuensis. I'm not sure how much Papa understands…"

He could imagine. She was the linchpin, the person around whom all else revolved, yet she preferred anonymity. Her tone, subtly amused, said as much.

Her role, however, extended much further than the company. He'd been in Colyton only a few days, yet he'd lost count of the times he'd seen someone-man, woman, even child-approach Phyllida with some request.

He'd never seen her turn anyone down.

The impulse to watch over people, to be actively involved, doing, helping, was one he understood. In his case, it derived from noblesse oblige-part learned, part inherited, part instinctive. Phyllida's impulse was, he suspected, wholly instinctive. Wholly giving. He was, however, getting the distinct impression that the village took her-and her help-for granted. "How long have you been ruling the roost at the Grange?"

The glance she slanted him was sharp. "Since my mother died."

Twelve years? No wonder her influence was so pervasive. She waited, but he said nothing more, content to drive through the sunshine with her beside him. And to consider…

Her impulse to help him would lead her to tell him whatever she knew soon enough. She was too intelligent to hold back information that would allow a killer to run loose; he accepted that she did not know the murderer's identity. She had a clue, nothing more; the best way forward was to continue his inquiries and keep her closely involved. Ironically, the less he learned, the more she'd feel compelled to resolve whatever matter was preventing her from being open with him, and to tell him all she knew.

That was how to proceed on that front. For the rest, now that he'd committed to residing in Colyton…

He had a house-one too large for just him. It was a family house-a family was what it needed. That was what Horatio would have envisioned. He certainly hadn't envisioned a family, not before he'd come to Colyton. But now he was here, and Horatio was gone, but the Manor still stood along with its ga

rden.

The outlying houses of Axminster appeared-a welcome distraction. They were thorough in their inquiries, but, as they'd assumed, no gentleman visitor had ridden through or driven through Axminster on Sunday morning.

"'Cept for you." The grizzled veteran slouching outside the small inn eyed him suspiciously.

Lucifer grinned. "Quite. I drove through that morning. But you're sure no one else was before me?"

A quick shake of the head. "Don't get that many carriages or horsemen going south of a Sunday. I'da noticed. And I was here from first light."

Lucifer nodded and tossed him a coin. The man caught it deftly and bowed to them both.

Phyllida led the way back to the curricle. "Where now?" he asked as he lifted her up.

"South. To the coast."

She directed him down a road; a mile or so south, a river came into view, winding along to their right.

"Is that the Axe?" When she nodded, he asked, "Are those my fields on the other side?"

"Not yet, but a little further and they will be."

They rattled through the early afternoon, the lush green of the river valley about them. The sun was screened by light clouds; it was warm but not hot. The first intimation that the coast was near was a cool breeze. They rounded a curve-at a crossroads before them stood an old inn.

Phyllida pointed to the left. "That's the road to Lyme Regis. If anyone came past from Lyme on Sunday morning, the children would have noticed."

"Children?"

A tribe ranging in age from about twelve to two, mostly girls. He left the questioning to Phyllida, content to lean against a stone wall and watch.