Chapter 19
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Early the next morning, Lucifer stood at his bedchamber windows and looked out over Horatio's garden. The sight soothed him, helped clear his mind and focus his thinking.
He couldn't ask Phyllida to marry him-not yet. Not while the murderer was still loose, with her very much in his sights. The man had to be growing desperate; that gave him an overwhelmingly powerful reason for wanting Phyllida completely within his protective care. If he asked her to marry him now… no. He wasn't going to risk it. He would not give her even the flimsiest reason to imagine his proposal had any motive bar one.
She wanted to learn about love-so be it. He would make sure she saw it clearly, uncamouflaged, undisguised. Make sure she learned enough so she would recognize it instantly, so that no possibility of confusion would exist when he finally asked her to be his.
He took a determined breath, then exhaled. His gaze was drawn to the jeweled tapestry below, bedewed and glittering with the first touch of the morning sun. A self-conscious smile tugged at his lips. Turning, he grabbed his coat, shrugged into it, and headed downstairs.
When Phyllida joined him at the breakfast table half an hour later, a spray of summer blooms lay beside her plate. She blinked at them; hesitantly, with one fingertip, she touched the velvet petal of a perfect white rose. Then she glanced up at him as, having held her chair for her, he moved back to his. "I didn't know you'd been out."
"Only for those. Only for you." He sat. "Through one impulsive act, I've shattered my suave London persona. I filched the shears from the garden room. When I came back in, the Hemmingses were turning the place upside down looking for them. I'd forgotten today is the day Mrs. Hemmings does the church flowers."
Phyllida raised the fragrant blooms to her face to hide her smile. As well as the white rose, there was rose lavender and honeysuckle, all set off with violets. "Thank you," she murmured. "I appreciate the sacrifice."
He reached for the coffeepot. "Strange to tell, it didn't hurt at all."
That made her giggle. Laying aside the spray, making a mental note to set it in a vase by her bed-the bed they presently shared-she helped herself to toast. "What now? We can't simply sit on our hands for the next two weeks and hope everything comes right in the end."
Lucifer hesitated, then said, "I sent a letter off yesterday while you were busy with the Farthingales. The contents aren't important so much as any results it might bring."
"Results?"
"I wrote to my cousin Devil. He'll be at Somersham at present-that's in Cambridgeshire. I gave him a brief outline of what's happened here, and the names of the gentlemen we've not yet eliminated."
"What do you expect him-Devil-to do?"
"Ask questions. Or have other people ask them. That's something Devil does well. He'll be discreet, but if there's any useful information lying about the capital, you can rest assured Devil and his troops will find it."
"His troops?"
"Whoever he calls on."
Head tilted, Phyllida regarded him. "What aren't you telling me?"
Lucifer grinned. "Devil is the Duke of St. Ives. If he wants something, he'll get it."
"Ah." Phyllida nodded. "I take it he's a despot. Is he a close relation?"
"First cousin."
Her face blanked. "You're first cousin to a duke?"
Thankful that Sweetie was twittering about outside, helping the Hemmingses, Lucifer nodded. "Don't let it bother you."
It was obvious it did. "If you're a near relative of a duke-"
"Near but a long way from the title, so I can marry as I choose." Brows rising, he added, "Not that any of us ever do anything else."
Frowning, Phyllida studied him. "You're serious."
"There's no reason to hold my birth against me."
She glared, but let the point slide. "So you've asked your cousin for help-"
"And I think, now matters have reached this pass, that it's time to inform Horatio's peers of his murder and appeal for their help."