question my servants at your leisure. You will find that upon showing my bride her new home, I disappeared from the hours of twelve o’clock noon to shortly before nine in the evening. There will be no one but myself to account for my whereabouts.”
Miranda’s head fell forward. She had hoped for Archer’s reassurance. But the man wouldn’t even proclaim his innocence. Surely an innocent man would? Her fingers twitched, digging into the silk weave of her gown. She should go. It was madness to stay. Perhaps he would murder her as well. Slice her throat in the dark of night. Why then could she not move? Silently, she cursed herself for being a fool.
“That is most unfortunate, my lord.”
“Yes.”
“Yet you can account for your whereabouts.” Winston was careful not to phrase it as a question.
“Of course. But I will not. Only that I was alone. I am often alone.”
Stubborn man! Her nails sank into the flesh of her knees.
“Do you have a theory as to who might have done this thing, my lord?”
“A coward who likes to play games.”
“Murderers generally are cowards,” Winston said. “I have one more question, my lord.”
“Only one? I cannot believe that. Surely you have dozens to pepper upon me.”
Miranda smiled against her knees. Stubborn, charming man. Beguiled by a possible killer. She belonged in Bedlam.
“Questions tend to build upon themselves.” Winston moved to pull something from his pocket, the action sending him out of her direct line of sight.
“Do you know what this is, my lord?”
Everything in her screamed to peek between the screens but Archer would surely notice the movement. Her fingers tightened over her knees to keep her in place.
“It is a coin,” Archer said plainly.
His deflection was not so easily gained. There was a smile in Winston’s voice when he replied. “Do you recognize it?”
Miranda willed her breath to steady. A coin? Her heart skittered to a stop and then picked a frantic pace.
“I believe you expect me to.”
“It was found over Sir Percival’s eye socket.”
“Ritualistic, perhaps.” Archer did not move from his position by the chair. Only the line of his arm was visible and might have been made of basalt for all its stillness. “Payment for Charon in order to cross the river Styx.”
“Perhaps.” Winston’s hand came into view but not enough for Miranda to see the coin, only a brief flash of gold. “Sir Percival’s valet says that the coin was his master’s. Sir Percival has had it since eighteen-fourteen or thereabouts. Called it his guide, though the valet cannot say why.”
“An odd way to describe a coin,” Archer said idly.
“I agree. But it is an odd piece, is it not? It is not legal tender, not here or in any other country.” Winston’s blond hair caught the light as he bent his head to inspect the coin. From her corner, Miranda could just see the frown lines about his eyes deepen.
“And the inscription. ‘West Moon Club.’ I profess, I have never heard of such a club.”
The words slammed into Miranda. West Moon Club. Her heart threatened to pound right out of her chest. Though it felt as though the room spun, she forced herself to be still, keep quiet. She did not need to see the coin now. She knew precisely what it looked like.
Oh, Archer. How could she have not seen it? Her breath came in sharp bursts. How many nights had she thought about her dark savior? The man with the haunted voice who would not show his face. Had he wanted to marry her from the start? If so, why did he not claim her then?
Archer’s deep voice, so very different from when she first heard it spoken, rumbled over the room. “Had the valet any theory as to the coin’s nature?”
“He did not.”
“Yet you assume that I have a more intimate knowledge of Percival’s belongings than that of his valet?”
Winston and Archer’s words faded in and out as her blood rushed through her veins. Did he still have her knife? Was it tucked away somewhere just as his coin was? She pictured the coin, with the pitted face of a full moon fronting it, lying in her jewelry box. She could never bring herself to pawn it. It had been her good luck charm.
“You wish to corroborate the statements of a man who has named you as the prime suspect in this crime, my lord?”
“Sir Percival’s valet has given facts. He heard Sir Percival speak my name. A scullery maid saw a masked