"You don't need to hover so obviously. There's more dances to come. Everyone will expect us to separate."
Lucifer quelled his rising panic and studied Phyllida's calm face. What she was suggesting was… reasonable. He couldn't give way to his instinctive urge to plant his foot solidly and say no. He didn't dare. "If you promise to remain in the ballroom-"
"I fully intend to remain in sight." She tilted her chin challengingly; her dark eyes flashed a warning. "I'm perfectly capable of playing my part. All you need do is watch from a distance. Now, I'll take myself off."
She drew her hand from his sleeve-he had to fight the urge to grab it back. With a gracious nod and a smile, she turned and strolled into the crowd.
Lucifer watched her go. Under his breath, he swore.
Jonas humphed. "I wish you'd said no."
He hadn't had a choice. Not if he wanted her to marry him.
"I'll go watch from the other side of the room." Jonas ambled off.
Phyllida danced and chatted, and danced some more. She circulated through the room at her brightest, her most charming. She spoke again to Cedric, Basil, and Grisby. She pretended to a faulty memory and conversed with Silas as if their meeting in the graveyard had never been.
All for nought. No gentleman approached her with any, even slightly nefarious, proposition.
At one point, Lucifer stopped by her side. "Enough. I don't like this. He'll be feeling under pressure. He might be at his most dangerous."
"He's more likely to be off-balance and at his most vulnerable." She strolled on, not waiting to hear his opinion of her logic.
Fifteen minutes later, Lucifer joined the circle about Phyllida; with practiced ease, he excised her from it. Her hand on his sleeve, he ambled down the room. "I think we should call it a night." He had had enough. He could feel the tension locked between his shoulder blades; his left shoulder was aching as well. "If he hasn't approached you by now, there's no reason to think he will."
She stopped and swung to face him. Her expression was calm and serene; her eyes glinted dangerously. "You know perfectly well that, other than finding that hat, we have no evidence to identify our man. There's not much we can do other than tempt him to try again. Here, where I'm surrounded by friends, is the safest place to do it. You're here; Jonas is here. This is too good an opportunity to pass up."
She held his gaze steadily; Lucifer swallowed a low growl. He was feeling increasingly caged. "This is not a good idea."
Her chin rose; her eyes flashed. "This is my idea and it's a perfectly sensible one."
With that, she swanned off.
Lucifer gritted his teeth and let her. It was that or risk showing her how mildly possessive her other suitors truly were. Compared with a Cynster, they did not rate. Fate had to be laughing hysterically.
Jaw clenched, he strolled to a wall and propped his uninjured shoulder against it. He watched her dance another country dance, then she chatted with a group of ladies. After that, she drifted. Then he saw her hesitate, looking down the room. He followed her gaze-he couldn't see whom she was staring at.
Then she stepped out; from her stride, she'd either seen something or had an idea. He wasn't enamored of her ideas. Chest tightening, he started after her.
He lost her in the crowd. Panic sank its claws deeper. He stopped and looked over the heads-he saw Jonas. Jonas shook his head. He'd lost her, too. Lucifer cursed, turned, and glimpsed her. At the other end of the ballroom, she stepped onto the terrace beside Lucius Appleby.
Appleby? Lucifer didn't stop to consider her reasoning. He doubted Appleby had invited Phyllida outside. If he had, she wouldn't have gone. No, she'd inveigled him out, God only knew why. But outside with only one gentleman was impossibly dangerous. Who knew who might be concealed by the night?
The distance to the nearest French door seemed a mile-a mile of obstacles, all smiling and nodding and wanting to chat. He reached it-it was locked. He had to plunge down the side of the room to the doors through which Phyllida and Appleby had disappeared, all without raising a dust.
He gained the terrace; Jonas, who'd been even farther down the room, was following. He glanced around and caught the smallest, most fleeting glimpse of blue skirt disappearing around the far end of the terrace. He strode after her, making no attempt to mute his footsteps. Rounding the corner, he discovered Phyllida a few yards away, leaning back against the balustrade, talking with Appleby, who was standing before her.
Behind the balustrade was a thicket of bushes, just the right sort to conceal a man with a knife.
Lucifer reached out, locked a hand around Phyllida's wrist, and yanked her to him, away from the bushes. He ignored her shocked expression and turned to Appleby. "Do excuse us, Appleby. Miss Tallent is just leaving."
Appleby returned his look blank-faced, the epitome of a well-trained employee. With the barest nod, Lucifer turned, let Phyllida get a good glimpse of his face, then stalked back around the corner of the terrace, dragging her with him.
"What are you doing!" she hissed. She twisted her wrist; he tightened his grip and strode on.
"I'm saving you from yourself! What the devil did you think you were doing, going off outside like that?" He pulled her close, moderating his stride so his body shielded her as much as was possible. "It's black night out there!" He waved at the lawns rolling away from the terrace. "He could take a shot at you without risk of being seen."
She glanced at the lawns. "I hadn't thought of that."