His tone had her glancing quickly his way.
He smiled. "I was on my way to discuss matters with your father. Perhaps you could take me to him?"
Sir Jasper was in his library. Lucifer was unsurprised when, after showing him in and then disappearing, Phyllida returned with a tray bearing glasses and a decanter.
"Well, so you're now a landowner in Devon, hen?"
"Shortly to be so, it seems." Lucifer accepted the glass of brandy Phyllida brought him. She handed a similar glass to her father, then retired to the sofa facing the chairs he and Sir Jasper occupied.
"Any thoughts on what you'll do with the property?" Sir Jasper regarded him from under shaggy brows. "You mentioned your family's estate is in Somerset…"
"I have an older brother-the family estate will go to him. In recent years, I've lived primarily in London, sharing my brother's house."
"So you have no other establishment demanding your attention?"
"No." That was something Horatio had known. His gaze on the brandy swirling in his glass, Lucifer added, "There's nothing to stop me from settling in Colyton."
"And will you?"
He looked up, into Phyllida's eyes. It was she who had, with her habitual directness, asked the simple question.
"Yes." Raising his glass, he sipped, his gaze never leaving her. "I've decided Colyton suits me."
"Excellent!" Sir Jasper beamed. "Could do with a little new blood around here." He went on at some length, extolling the benefits of the area; Lucifer let him ramble while he tried to understand the irritation in Phyllida's brown eyes. Her expression calm, she sat watching her father, but her eyes… and a downward quirk at one corner of her lovely lips…
Sir Jasper wound to a halt; Lucifer stirred and faced him. "One point I wanted to mention. I consider Horatio's bequest a gift, one I couldn't comfortably accept if I hadn't done everything I could to bring his murderer to justice."
Sir Jasper nodded. "Your feelings do you credit."
"Perhaps, but I'd never feel at ease in Horatio's house, owning his collection, unless I'd turned every stone."
Sir Jasper eyed him shrewdly. "Do I take it that's a warning you intend turning every stone?"
Lucifer held his gaze. "Every rock. Every last pebble."
Sir Jasper considered, then nodded. "I'll do whatever I can, but as you doubtless appreciate, it won't be easy to lay this murderer by the heels. The bare fact of the matter is no one saw him."
"There may be other proofs." Lucifer drained his glass.
Sir Jasper did the same. "We can hope so." As Phyllida collected the empty glasses, he added, "You may investigate as you wish, of course. If you need any formal support, I'll do all I can." He stood. "Horatio was one of us. I suspect you'll find you'll have any number of people willing to help you find his murderer."
"Indeed." Lucifer rose, his gaze resting on Phyllida. "I'm hoping that will be the case."
He wanted her help in catching Horatio's murderer. He'd all but asked for it.
She wanted to help him. Even if he hadn't asked, he would have received her assistance.
Unfortunately, the promise of the morning, when she'd hoped to be able to tell him all soon, had given way to the frustration of the afternoon, which was now to be crowned by the disaster of the evening. For some ungodly reason, and she used the term advisedly, her aunt had decided to host an informal dinner for a select few who had attended the funeral. A funeral dinner. Phyllida wasn't impressed.
She'd had a good mind to wear black, but compromised with her lavender silk. It was one of her most flattering gowns and she felt in need of the support.
She was the last to enter the drawing room. Lucifer was there, startlingly handsome in a midnight-blue coat the exact same shade as his eyes. His hair appeared black in the candlelight; his ivory cravat was an exercise in elegance. He stood with her father and Mr. Farthingale before the hearth; from the instant she'd stepped over the threshold, his gaze had remained fixed on her.
Regally inclining her head, she went to join the Misses Longdon, two spinsters of indeterminate age who shared a house along the lane to the forge.
They were sixteen at table. After checking with Gladys, Phyllida took her seat. Lucifer was at the table's other end, at her aunt's right and flanked by Regina Longdon. Regina Longdon was all but deaf, which left Lady Huddlesford with little competition. Mary Anne and Robert were both too far away to engage in conversation. Or persuasion. With nothing else to do, Phyllida applied herself to overseeing the meal.
Her father never dallied long over the port; he led the gentlemen back into the drawing room a bare fifteen minutes after the ladies had settled themselves. Those fifteen minutes had been spent listening to Mary Anne play the pianoforte. As soon as the gentlemen appeared, Mary Anne closed the instrument and came forward to join the conversing groups. Phyllida closed in on her.