Martin nodded. "Cross off Moreton."
"And George and Bruce and Melville, too. They haven't set foot in London this Season, and from what you told me, the time between either of you deciding to go north and Reggie being shot leaves no leeway for anyone out of town to have been alerted in time to act."
"That hadn't occurred to me," Martin murmured, "but you're right. Not only did the murderer have to learn of my departure, there was only an hour in which he could have heard."
"Actually"-Luc glanced at Amanda-"it probably wasn't your departure he heard of, but Amanda's."
"Mine?"
"Your recent entrance notwithstanding, your relationship hasn't been any sort of secret. If the murderer heard that you"-Luc nodded at Amanda-"were going to Scotland for a visit, he might well have assumed Martin would accompany you, and that you would stop at Hathersage."
"That makes more sense. There was very little time between me deciding and leaving." Martin looked at the list. "We have five names left."
"And I doubt we'll do better." Luc leaned against the desk. "I've checked four of those five, and none of them can offer verifiable evidence of where they were five nights ago."
Amanda blinked. "How can four gentlemen not be somewhere someone saw them?"
"Easily." Luc glanced at Martin. "Radley's the one I haven't had a word with yet, but you can bet he'll be the same as the others."
Martin grimaced. "I see."
"See what?" Amanda looked from one to the other.
Luc looked at Martin, then said, "Radley and the others are cousins, much the same age as us."
When he said no more, Amanda stared at him, then looked at Martin. "You can't mean…" She looked again at Luc. "All of them?"
He gave her a helpless "what-would-you" look.
"Humph!" She looked at the list. One name leaped out at her. "What about Edward? You're not going to tell me he wasn't doing his duty accompanying your sisters and mama to some ball."
The cynical look Luc bent on her was answer enough. "According to Cottsloe, our butler, Edward came home early, told Cottsloe to tell Mama he was in bed with a migraine and didn't wish to be disturbed, and left. He returned sometime during the night, but no one was awake to know when."
Her racing thoughts must have shown in her face, for Luc added, "I wouldn't read too much into the timing-he's done much the same before. Unfortunately, the… establishment he favors is usually afloat on gin. I wouldn't trust the word of anyone there. The same goes for the others-not the gin, but that they can't produce a reliable witness, which means we can't cross them off our list, but their movements don't necessarily make them guilty."
Amanda wrinkled her nose; she studied the list while Martin and Luc made arrangements to meet at Martin's house the next day.
She stared at one name, continued to frown. She was acquainted with the five men still on the list, although other than Edward, she knew them only distantly. The other four were as Luc had said, very like him and Martin; she had no difficulty imagining that they might have been visiting some lady whose name they wouldn't divulge. That was one thing, but to frequent an establishment that "floated on gin"?
She knew Luc too well to think he was exaggerating; if anything, he would have-and had-glossed over his brother's less-admirable predilections.
Which left her feeling decidedly equivocal about Edward. What sort of man actively posed as a long-suffering, righteous puritan to society, but secretly visited dens of iniquity?
"Come on." Martin took her elbow. "We'd better get back to the ballroom before imaginations become overheated."
Amanda stuffed the list back into her reticule and let him lead her to the door.
Chapter 22
Under orders from his prospective bride and mother-in-law, Martin called in Upper Brook Street the next morning, took Amanda up beside him in his curricle, then drove across Park Lane and into the park.
Tooling down the Avenue, he glanced at Amanda, noted her bright eyes, sensed the sheer triumph that gripped her-decided it made the sacrifice worthwhile. She'd assured him he only had to do this once; he'd deduced it was some strange rite understood only by the female half of the ton.
That deduction gained credence as the matrons and senior hostesses, sitting regally in their carriages drawn up along the verge, perceptibly brightened at the sight of them, then smiled graciously and nodded; Amanda smiled radiantly and nodded back. Martin contented himself with the occasional impassive nod to the more influential ladies and those he recognized as his parents' friends, and concentrated on guiding his high-bred bays through the obstacle course of the fashionable area.
They drew up to chat with the Dowager Duchess of St. Ives, and later exchanged pleasantries with Emily Cowper. Then they were through the gauntlet, past the last carriage; Martin let the bays trot. He was congratulating himself on having survived the ordeal, when Amanda tugged his sleeve and pointed to where carriages were queueing to turn.
"Now we go back again."