limb and agree to one of those artificial ones that are available now."
Edgar had said nothing to him about replacing his leg with an artificial one.
And again, Meredith said, apropos of that, "He was afraid he'd make a fool of himself tomorrow, falling. He feels safer just now with his crutches."
"Did Elise tell you that?" he said. Or had you read it in Edgar's tea leaves?
A twinkle appeared in Meredith's dark eyes. "Ian. I've seen Edgar any number of times when he has come up to London. If he brings Elise, she stays with me. For propriety's sake. And we've talked a time or two."
He felt himself flush with embarrassment. Managing a laugh, he said, "Sorry. I met you first as a necromancer, remember."
"Yes. I remember. It was not the best of footings for friendship, was it? I can sometimes guess what someone is thinking—anyone can, if he knows human nature. A policeman employs the same skills, surely. It isn't so strange a gift."
"A policeman," he responded dryly, "doesn't care to have those skills used against him."
She laughed. It was low and husky and somehow intimate. "Touché."
As the storm descended on them in earnest, the party moved down to the kitchen and made a spur-of-the-moment tea out of what they found there, carrying it triumphantly to the room overlooking the terrace and sitting on the rugs or in the chairs, conversation flowing smoothly. Rutledge found he was enjoying himself.
Meredith Channing was talking with Neal Hammond, and Rutledge could hear her voice but not what she was saying, though it was clear from the expression on Hammond's face that he found her attractive. From the way he touched her arm at one point, it was also clear that they had known each other for some time.
Hamish spoke, startling Rutledge. He had been silent since that first sharp " 'Ware!" as Rutledge had come down the stairs earlier in the evening to join the gathering. "Ye canna' let your guard down. It would be foolish."
But the evening had unexpectedly turned into a very pleasant few hours, and when the storm had passed and it was too late to adjourn to The Luttrell Arms for dinner, no one made a move to leave.
Edgar, coming to sit beside Rutledge, was in the best of spirits, all qualms apparently quashed for now, and he smiled at his friend with wry warmth.
"Thank you for coming, Ian. I thought I needed support through this. Now I'm glad I have a friend beside me."
"A thunderstorm can work wonders," Rutledge said, grinning at Edgar. "Did you order it up yourself?"
"If I'd thought about it, I'd have tried. I think Elise's parents are satisfied now that she's not marrying a cripple with no prospects. They knew my grandfather, and I've heard they told their daughter in the beginning that I wasn't half the man he was. That, thank God, was on my last leave, before I'd lost my leg. I was greener then. They seem to be enjoying themselves tonight." He stretched out his leg and said, "I hadn't realized that you knew Meredith."
It was a fishing expedition, transparently so.
"I met her at Maryanne Browning's," Rutledge replied.
"She's been a widow for several years now. I'm glad to see her out and about again." Edgar Maitland was matchmaking.
Rutledge smothered a smile. "I'll keep that in mind," he said dryly. "You could do worse. I'm not one to speak ill of the dead, but Jean wasn't right for you. I could have told you that in 1914, but you wouldn't have listened."
"Probably not."
Edgar laughed. "You have no idea what happiness is until you've found someone to love. Just look at me!"
Elise came over to join them, saving Rutledge from finding an answer to that. He stood up to offer her his chair, but she said, "It's near the witching hour. And the storm seems to have dwindled to broken clouds. We must leave. I have it on good authority—my mother—that it's bad luck to see one's bride on the day of the wedding, until she walks down the aisle."
"We don't want to risk that." Edgar got to his feet with some