Free All About Love by Stephanie Laurens Page B

. . . straightforward.”
    “Good. Our next outing will be as scheduled. I’ve had a letter confirming there’s been no change to the plans. If you could pass the word on to those interested?”
    “Of course.”
    “And do remind them that we’ll need the group assembled in good time—we can’t wait for stragglers. If they’re not there from the very first, then we really cannot include them in the group, so they’ll miss out on the benefits of the excursion.”
    Filing nodded. “If any want to argue that point, I’ll suggest they speak with Thompson.”
    Phyllida shot him a glance. “Do.” She straightened. “Until tomorrow, then.”
    Lucifer returned his attention to her, then nodded a farewell to Filing.
    Phyllida gestured down the common. “We should get back—you really should rest your head.”
    He fell into step beside her; they descended the slope at an easy pace.
    What in all Hades was the woman up to?
    He assumed he was supposed to imagine that they’d been discussing some excursion for Filing’s parishioners. He might have believed it but for her dogged attempts to keep the knowledge from him. While the correct interpretation presently eluded him, he couldn’t believe it was anything heinous or illegal. She was the magistrate’s daughter, devoted to good works, and Filing was patently honest and upright. So why didn’t she want him to know what she was about?
    If she’d been younger, he would have suspected some lark. Not only was she too old for that, but her behavior tended to the mature, the managing; she was no irresponsible hoyden.
    The mystery about her had just deepened; the urge to take her somewhere private, back her against a wall, and keep her there until she told him all he wished to know, grew with every step.
    He glanced at her and was rewarded with a full view of her face as she lifted it to the breeze, shaking back her tangling bonnet ribbons. He drank in her features, the resolution in her face, the challenge implicit in the defiant tilt of her chin. Facing forward again, he reminded himself that she was a gently reared virgin—no fit prey for him. She was not a woman with whom he could dally.
    He would learn her secrets, then he’d have to let her go.
    They stepped into the lane. A carriage was drawn up just ahead, the occupants—a large gentleman and an older lady—patently waiting to speak with them.
    “Sir Cedric Fortemain and his mother, Lady Fortemain,” Phyllida supplied sotto voce.
    “And they are?”
    “Cedric owns Ballyclose Manor—it lies over the hill past the forge.”
    They neared the carriage. Sir Cedric, in his late thirties and already tending portly with a florid face and thinning hair, rose and bowed to Phyllida, then leaned over the side to shake her hand.
    Phyllida performed the introductions. Lucifer bowed to her ladyship and shook hands with Cedric.
    “I hear you were the first to discover the body, Mr. Cynster,” Lady Fortemain said.
    “Shocking business!” Cedric declared.
    They chatted inconsequentially about London and the weather; Lucifer noted Cedric’s gaze rarely left Phyllida. His comments were a touch too patronizing, a touch too particular. When, contained and unresponsive, she stepped back, preparing to leave, Cedric caught her eye.
    “I’m pleased to see, m’dear, that you’re not rambling about the village on your own. There’s no telling but that Welham’s murderer is still about.”
    “Indeed!” Lady Fortemain smiled at Lucifer. “So comforting to see you’re keeping an eye on dear Phyllida. We’d be devastated were anything to happen to our village treasure.”
    That was accompanied by a beam of sincere approbation, which brought a frown to the village treasure’s eyes. “We must be getting on.”
    Lucifer bowed to Lady Fortemain, exchanged nods with Cedric, then strolled beside Phyllida as she crossed the lane to walk along the cottages’ front fences. “Why,” he murmured, “does Lady Fortemain think you