Phyllida halted. "I suggested Cedric and Basil ask their farm workers if they'd seen anyone-meaning the murderer-about on Sunday morning."
"An excellent notion."
"Yes, but while discussing last Sunday, Cedric stated quite definitely that he'd been in the library all morning and was there when his mother returned."
Lucifer looked into her eyes, then shrugged. "Both Cedric and Pommeroy could be telling the truth. Cedric could have left after he heard his mother return, but before Pommeroy went looking for him."
Relieved, Phyllida nodded. "Yes, of course."
They started strolling again, then Lucifer asked, "What's the name of the head groom here?"
A knot of suspicion pulled tight in Phyllida's chest. But he was right-they had to be sure it wasn't Cedric. "Todd. He'd know if Cedric had taken a horse out."
"I'll speak to him-perhaps tomorrow."
Phyllida said nothing. The seriousness of the murder seemed to be growing. How terrible for the village if the murderer was one of them.
How horrible if that suspicion firmed, but they never learned who.
"You're very determined to find Horatio's murderer."
"Yes."
One word, no embellishments. It didn't need any. "Why?" She didn't look at him, but continued to stroll.
"You heard me explain it to your father."
"I know what you told Papa." She walked a few more paces before she said, "I don't think that's all your reason."
His gaze slid over her face, sharp, not amused. "You're an exceedingly persistent female."
"If your middle name is Temptation, then mine is Persistence."
He laughed; the sound tugged at something inside her.
"All right." He halted and looked down at her. She raised a brow at him, then turned to pace back toward the drawing room. He fell in beside her. "I'm not sure I can explain it simply. Not in a way that'll sound rational to you. But it's as if Horatio was mine-part of me-certainly under my protection, even if that wasn't actually so. His murder is as if someone has taken something from me by force." He paused, then went on. "My ancestors conquered this country-perhaps it's some primitive streak that hasn't fully died. But if anyone dared take one of theirs, vengeance, justice, would have been guaranteed."
After a moment, he glanced at her. "Does that make any sense?"
Phyllida arched a brow. "It makes perfect sense." His ancestors might have conquered the land, but hers had civilized it. Horatio's murder violated her code in precisely the same way it offended his. She understood his feelings perfectly-indeed, she shared them.
She halted. For a moment, she stared straight ahead, then she drew in a deep breath. "There's something I must tell you." She turned to him-
"There you are, Mr. Cynster!"
Jocasta Smollet swept up to them, flashing stiff silks and feathers. "We were all wondering where you'd disappeared to. So naughty of Phyllida to monopolize your time."
That last was said with open spite. Phyllida silently sighed. "We were about to return inside-"
"No, no! So much more pleasant out here, don't you agree, Miss Longdon?" Jocasta turned to the French doors as the Longdon sisters stepped through, followed by Mrs. Farthingale and Pommeroy. Others joined them, milling about, exclaiming at the pleasantness of the evening.
Phyllida shot a glance at Lucifer; he caught it. Later? was what his look said.
Almost imperceptibly, she nodded; it didn't really matter if she told him tonight or tomorrow.
She was threading through the guests, wondering where her father was, when someone grabbed her sleeve and unceremoniously tugged.
"Please, Phyllida, please! Say you've found them."