Lucifer joined her as she halted before her father. She slanted him a glance. "Allow me to present…"

He smiled, then turned to her father and held out his hand. "Alasdair Cynster, sir. But most call me Lucifer."

"Lucifer, heh?" Sir Jasper shook hands without any evidence of disquiet. "What names you youngsters do take. Now! How're you feeling?"

"Much better, thanks to your daughter's care."

Sir Jasper smiled on Phyllida, who had turned to the tea trolley. "Aye, well, that was a nasty blow, no doubt of that. Now let me make you known to m'sister-in-law; then we'll take our tea and you can tell me all you know about this distressing business."

His sister-in-law, Lady Huddlesford, summoned a smile and held out her hand. "I'm delighted to meet you, Mr. Cynster."

Lucifer politely shook hands. Sir Jasper gestured to the dandy. "M'nephew, Percy Tallent."

Percy, it transpired, was her ladyship's son by her first marriage to Sir Jasper's late brother. One minute of affected conversation and Lucifer had Percy pegged-he was on a repairing lease. Nothing else could account for his presence in rural Devon. His sullen half brother, Frederick Huddlesford, openly stared at Lucifer's well-cut coat, hard pressed, it seemed, to marshal the words for even a simple greeting.

With a nod, Lucifer turned to the young man so like Phyllida, who promptly grinned and stuck out his hand. "Jonas. Phyllida's little brother."

Clasping the proffered hand, Lucifer smiled and raised his brows. Loose-limbed, with the same careless grace that characterized his sister, Jonas stood a good six inches taller than she. Lucifer glanced at her as she straightened from the tea trolley. For all his transparent, good-natured insousiance, Jonas didn't appear younger than she.

Phyllida caught his glance; her chin rose. "We're twins, but I'm the elder."

"Ah. I see. Always the leader."

Her brows rose haughtily. Jonas chuckled.

So did Sir Jasper. "Quite, quite. Phyllida keeps us all in line-don't know what we'd do without her. Now"-he waved to a grouping of chairs at the end of the room-"let's move down there and you can tell me what you can about this terrible business."

As he turned, Lucifer felt Phyllida's gaze on his face.

"Indeed, Papa. I do think Mr. Cynster should sit down. I'll bring you your cups."

Sir Jasper nodded. Lucifer followed him down the room. They settled in wing chairs angled to each other, a small table between. The length of the room assured them of privacy; the others watched them go, their curiosity palpable, then reluctantly returned to their own company.

As he gingerly rested his head back on the chair's cushion, Lucifer considered Sir Jasper. His host was a type he knew well. Men like him were the backbone of county England. Bluffly good-natured, genial if unimaginative, they were, nevertheless, no one's fools. They could be counted on to hold the line, to do whatever needed to be done to keep their community stable, yet they had no taste for power; it was appreciation of their comfort plus trenchant common sense that drove them.

Lucifer glanced at Phyllida, busy at the tea trolley. Like father, like daughter? He suspected so, at least in part.

"So"-Sir Jasper stretched out his legs-"are you familiar with Devon?"

Lucifer went to shake his head, but stopped. "No. My family home lies north of here, to the east of the Quantocks."

"Somerset, heh? So you're a west countryman?"

"At heart, but I've lived in London for the last decade."

Phyllida arrived with cups on saucers; she handed one to each of them, then whisked back up the room. Sir Jasper sipped; Lucifer did, too, conscious of reawakening hunger. An instant later, Phyllida reappeared with a cake plate piled high. She offered it around, then subsided onto a love seat beside her father's chair, and patently settled to listen.

Lucifer glanced at Sir Jasper. His host was aware of his daughter's presence, and clearly saw nothing odd in her being privy to his investigations. His flippant remark about her being a born leader was not, it seemed, far from the mark.

Hands folded in her lap, she sat quiet and contained. Lucifer studied her as he consumed a piece of cake. She wouldn't see twenty again, but how much older was she? Her cool composure he suspected was misleading. Jonas's age was easier to estimate; his body was still all long bones and spare frame. He was in his early-to-mid twenties, at least four years younger than Lucifer's twenty-nine.

Which made Phyllida the same.

And a puzzle. There was no ring on her finger, nor had there ever been one. He'd noted that last night; even in extremis, his rakish instincts hadn't failed him. She was twenty-three, twenty-four, and still unwed. Definitely a puzzle.

She was aware of his scrutiny, but not a smidgen of that awareness showed. The urge to shake her-to see her lose that cool control-flared. Lucifer looked down, set aside his cake plate, and picked up his cup.

Sir Jasper did the same. "Now, to business. Let's start with your arrival. What brought you to the Manor yesterday morning?"

"I received a letter from Horatio Welham." Lucifer settled his head back on the cushion. "It was delivered in London on Thursday. Horatio invited me to visit the Manor at my earliest convenience."

"So you were previously acquainted with Welham?"

"I've known Horatio for over nine years. I first met him when I was twenty, while staying with friends in the Lake District. Horatio introduced me to serious collecting. He was my mentor in that field and became a close, very trusted friend. Over the years, I frequently visited Horatio and his wife, Martha, at their house by Lake Windemere."

"Lake District, was it? Always wondered where Horatio hailed from. He never said and one didn't like to pry."

Lucifer hesitated, then said, "Horatio was deeply attached to Martha. When she died three years ago, he couldn't face living alone in the house they'd shared for so long. He sold up and moved south. Devon appealed because of the milder climate-he used to say he chose to move here because of his old bones and because he liked this village. He said it was small and comfortable." With no managing local mesdames. Lucifer glanced at Phyllida-how had Horatio viewed her?

Her eyes had grown dark. "No wonder he never spoke of his past. He must have been deeply in love with his Martha."

Lucifer inclined his head, then looked at Sir Jasper.

"Would any of Welham's servants know you?"

"I don't know who he kept on. Is Covey still with him?"

"Yes, indeed."

"Then he knows me, certainly." Lucifer frowned. "If Covey's here, why did the servants suspect me of killing Horatio? Covey knows how long I've known Horatio and the nature of our relationship."

"Covey wasn't here," Phyllida said. "He visits an old aunt in Musbury, a village nearby, every Sunday. By the time he returned, you were here at the Grange."

"Covey would be very cut up by Horatio's death."

Phyllida nodded.

Sir Jasper sighed. "No getting any sense out of him yesterday-I did try. Daresay he's still feeling it today."

"Covey was devoted to Horatio over all the years I knew them."

Sir Jasper threw Lucifer a shrewd glance. "Quite-no reason to suppose Covey knows anything about his master's death." He sat back. "Now, let's see. This is your first visit to Colyton?"

"Yes. Until now, matters never fell out suitably for a visit. Horatio and I discussed it, but… We met at least every three months, sometimes more frequently, in London and at collectors' gatherings around the country."

"So you're a collector, too?"

"I specialize in silver and jewelry. Horatio, on the other hand, was an acknowledged expert on antique books and a highly regarded authority in a number of other areas, too. He was an inspired teacher. It was an honor to have learned from him."

"Were there others who learned from him?"

"A few, but none who remained so closely in touch. The others took up collecting in Horatio's own spheres, and so became competitors of sorts."

"Could one of them have killed him?" Lucifer shook his head. "I can't imagine it."

"Other collectors? Jealous ones, perhaps?" Lucifer waved a negative. "Collectors might metaphorically kill for certain items, but few actually do. For most collectors, half the joy is displaying your acquisitions to other collectors. Horatio was highly respected and well liked among the fraternity; his collections were well known. Any item of his unexpectedly surfacing in someone else's collection would draw immediate attention. As a motive for murder, a known collector wanting to gain a particular piece is unlikely. We can, however, check for missing items, although it will take time. Horatio kept meticulous records."

Sir Jasper was frowning. "We knew Welham was a collector and dealer, but I, for one, had no notion he was so highly regarded." He glanced at Phyllida.

She shook her head. "We all knew he had visitors from outside-beyond the local area-but no one here knows much about antiques. We had no idea Horatio held such a prominent place in that sphere."

"I think," Lucifer said, "that that was part of the attraction of Colyton. Horatio liked being 'one of the locals.'"

Sir Jasper nodded. "Now you mention it, he became 'one of us' very quickly. Hard to believe it's only been three years. He bought the Manor and rebuilt and refurbished it. He put in that garden-his pride, it was. Used to potter in it for hours-his success turned some of the local ladies green. He always did all he could-went to church every Sunday, helped out in many ways." Sir Jasper paused, then quietly concluded, "He'll be missed."

They sat silently for a moment, then Lucifer asked, "If he always went to church, why was he at home yesterday? I hadn't sent word I was coming."

"He was ill," Phyllida said. "A bad cold. He insisted the others go as usual, and that Covey was not to disappoint his aunt. Mrs. Hemmings said she left him reading upstairs."

"So"-Sir Jasper shifted in his chair-"let's recount what happened as we know it. You arrived on a social visit-"

"That's not quite true-or not all of the truth. I left Horatio's letter in Somerset, so you'll have to bear with my paraphrasing, but he specifically asked me to visit because he wanted my opinion on some item he'd discovered. He was obviously excited by it-the impression I received was that it was a wholly unexpected find. The inference was that he personally felt sure the item was authentic, but wanted a second opinion."

"Any idea what this item was?"

"No. The only thing I can be sure of is that it wasn't silver or jewelry."

"But those are your specialties."

"Yes, but Horatio wrote that if the item was authentic, it might even tempt me to expand my collection beyond silver and jewelry."

"So it was a desirable piece?"

"My interpretation was that it was desirable and valuable. The fact that Horatio asked me to appraise something not in my area of expertise, when he could easily have invited the opinion of any of the established collectors of whatever type of collectible it is, suggests that the item was one of those finds that no sane collector tells anyone he has until he's established ownership and perhaps arranged greater security. Horatio might have been old, but he was still very sharp."

"But he told you-why not others?"

Lucifer met Phyllida's dark gaze. "Because for various reasons, among them our long friendship, Horatio knew he'd be safe telling me. Indeed, I might be the only one he mentioned the item to at all."

"Would Covey know of it?"

"Unless his duties have changed, I doubt it. Covey helped Horatio with arrangements and correspondence but was never involved with the actual dealing or assessing."

Sir Jasper mulled over their words. "So you came here to meet with Horatio and view this new item of his." He looked at Lucifer, who nodded. "You drove into the village…?"

Lucifer leaned back, his gaze fixed above Phyllida's head. "I passed no one on the road, nor did I see anyone about. I turned into the drive…" Simply and succinctly, he described his movements. "And then someone hit me over the head and I collapsed beside Horatio."

"You were hit with an old halberd," Sir Jasper said. "Nasty weapon-you're lucky not to have died."

Lucifer lowered his gaze to Phyllida's calm face. "Indeed."