Joseph was first through the door. "My lord-" He gestured helplessly and held open the door.
Martin and Luc were on their feet.
Lady Osbaldestone swept in.
"Aha!" Her black gaze swept them. "As I thought. Well enough, but you haven't adequately covered your rear."
Martin stared, then lifted his gaze to the two gentlemen who entered in her wake-Devil and Vane Cynster.
Devil nodded, his gaze also taking in those present. "Much as it pains me to concur, I believe her ladyship's right." He met Martin's gaze. "You need disinterested witnesses unconnected with your family."
"We have Reggie," Amanda pointed out.
Devil glanced at Reggie. "Judging by that bandage about his head, he can hardly be disinterested in bringing the man who wounded him to justice."
Martin dismissed Joseph, then turned to the others. "What do you have in mind?" He glanced at the clock. "We have very little time, and if the villain is who we believe, he'll know this for a trap the instant he sets eyes on any of you."
"Which is why we came via the back door." Lady Osbaldestone had been examining the furnishings. "What a treasure trove you have here. However"-she looked down the room-"that is precisely what we need."
With her cane, she pointed to a carved wooden screen of four hinged panels. Then she waved the cane at Devil and Vane, who promptly stepped back out of range. "You two-fetch it and set it just there." The cane indicated a line angled away from the library windows. "The fool won't be coming via the courtyard, so he won't see us behind it. You may set that armchair behind the screen for me, and both of you may stand on either side."
They all leapt to do her bidding-there was no time left to argue.
Luc set the chair in place, Martin helped her into it. Devil and Vane wrestled the heavy screen into place, then took up their positions behind it.
"Perfect!" Lady Osbaldestone's disembodied voice rose from behind the screen. "We can see the whole area before the fireplace through these tiny holes. Wonderfully sensible, those oriental pashas."
Turning away, Martin and Luc exchanged glances. They returned to their positions and sat.
The front door bell pealed again.
Chapter 23
The sound jangled through the house, jangled over their nerves. They didn't look at each other but listened intently, straining to hear.
A man spoke, his voice reduced to a rumble by the walls. Joseph answered, then, faintly at first, growing more definite, they heard footsteps approaching down the long corridor. Joseph, and one other.
Like a troupe of actors with the curtain swishing up, they masked their tension, relaxing against the chaise, in the chair, assuming expressions of calm anticipation.
The door opened; Joseph appeared. Amanda held her breath.
"Mr. Edward Ashford, my lord."
Martin's expression showed nothing more than mild surprise as he rose from the chaise beside her. "Edward?" Martin extended a hand as Edward came forward, grasped Edward's without a glimmer of revulsion. "What can I do for you?"
Edward had noted them-Luc sprawled in the chair facing the hearth, Reggie on the chaise opposite Amanda. He looked at Martin. "Actually, I thought to be of some assistance here. Am I too late, then?"
It was Luc who answered, swiveling to look up at his brother. "Too late for what, Edward?"
Edward looked down at Luc; Amanda prayed Luc's dark eyes would conceal his true feelings.
Edward's expression remained supercilious. "I came to bear witness, of course." His glance swept them again. "I would have thought it obvious, in light of the gravity of the crimes in question, old though they may be, that there ought to be… disinterested spectators here when Martin receives this diary."
His tone carried his implication, the insinuation that the diary was a hoax, that Martin's innocence was a joke. Neither Martin nor Luc reacted; their faces remained impassive. Amanda bit her cheek against the urge to defend Martin; she forced herself to remain still.
It was Reggie who stiffened in outrage; she glanced at him as he shifted, disguising the reaction in a querulous movement.
Edward's gaze had gone to him; it lingered on his bandage. "You've met with an accident, Carmarthen."