Rakes Vow

"Just think! We could be murdered in our beds!"

All heads, and it was indeed all-Mi

Eyes huge, she stared back. "It must be some madman!"

"Why?"

Vane had opened his mouth to voice the question; Patience beat him to it. "Why on earth would someone come all the way out here," she continued, "struggle into this particular house, go to your mother's door-and then vanish as soon as she screamed? If it was a madman intent on murder, he had plenty of time to do the deed."

Both Mrs. Chadwick and Angela stared at her, stu

Vane forced his lips straight. "There's no need for melodrama-whoever it was is long gone." But possibly not far away.

The same thought had occurred to Whitticombe. "Is everybody here?" He looked about, as did the others, corn-firming that indeed, everyone was present, even Masters, who stood at the back of the crowd. "Well, then," Whitticombe said, sca

Vane was quite sure it wasn't chance that had brought that name first to Whitticombe's lips.

Gerrard was standing behind Patience. "I was in the billiard room."

"Alone?" Whitticombe's insinuation was transparent.

Gerrard's jaw set. "Yes, alone."

The General grunted. "Why on earth would someone spend time in the billiard room alone?"

Color crept into Gerrard's cheeks. He flicked a glance at Vane. "I was just knocking a few balls around."

That swift glance was enough for Vane; Gerrard had been practicing shots, waiting for him to come down. The billiard room was precisely the sort of place a gentleman such as he might be expected to choose to spend an hour or so before retiring. Indeed, if events had not taken the course they had, he would have gone there himself.

Vane didn't like the accusing stares that were being aimed at Gerrard. Neither did Patience, Mi

He made each one state their last location. Bar himself and Mi

When Vane asked for her whereabouts, Alice Colby glared at him. "I was in my room, one floor below this."

Vane merely nodded. "Very well. I suggest that now the thief is long gone, we should all retire."

In the face of that dampeningly dull suggestion, most of the party, muttering and grumbling, did so. Gerrard hung back, but when Patience noticed and gave him a push, he shot an apologetic glance at Vane and went. Predictably, Patience, Mi

Vane eyed their set faces, then sighed and waved them back. "In Mi

"It wasn't Gerrard."

The trenchant statement came from Timms. "I can't abide how they all cast suspicion his way. They're making him a scapegoat."

Mi

Vane's lips twisted wryly. "He was waiting for me." Strolling forward, he took up his customary position, shoulders propped against the mantelpiece. "Which, the last time I checked, wasn't a crime."

Timms sniffed. "Exactly so. That much was obvious."

"If we're agreed on that, then I suggest we forget the incident. There's no way I can see to link it to anyone."

"Masters couldn't fault any of the other alibis." Patience lifted her chin when Vane looked her way. "I asked him."

Vane regarded her for a moment, then nodded. "So tonight has revealed nothing-there's nothing more to do but head for bed."

He kept his eyes on Patience's face; after a moment, she inclined her head. "As you say." She bent down to Mi

Mi

Patience kissed Mi

Half question, half statement. Vane held her gaze, then shook his head. "I know it wasn't Gerrard. Your brother couldn't lie to save himself-and he didn't try."

Briefly, she searched his eyes, then inclined her head. Vane opened the door, closed it behind her, then headed back to the fire.

"Well," Mi

Vane looked down at her and let his Cynster smile show. "After that little interlude, how could I refuse?" How indeed.

"Thank heavens!' Timms declared. "Lord knows we need a little sound sense around here."

Vane stored that comment up in case of later need-he suspected Patience Debbington thought she had the sound sense market cornered. "I'll start nosing around tomorrow. Until then-" He looked at Mi

Mi

"Good." With a nod, Vane straightened and turned.

"Oh-ah, Vane…?"

He glanced back, one brow rising, but didn't halt in his progress to the door. "I know-but don't ask me for a promise I won't keep.",

Mi

"Rest assured-I don't intend to break either." Vane glanced back from the door, one brow arrogantly high. "As you've no doubt heard, we Cynsters are invincible."

With a rakish grin, he left; Mi

Timms came to help. "Given all seven of the present generation returned from Waterloo, unscathed and with nary a scratch, I'd say they have some claim to the title."

Mi

"Precisely." Timms smiled. "So we can leave our problems on Vane's shoulders-Lord knows, they're broad enough."

Mi

Vane made sure he was early down to breakfast. When he entered the breakfast parlor, only Henry was present, working his way through a plate of sausages. Exchanging an amiable nod, Vane headed for the sideboard.

He was heaping a plate with slices of ham when Masters appeared, bearing another platter. He set it down on the sideboard. Raising a brow, Vane caught his eye. "No sign of any break-in?"