caught the rounded curves of his mask, making it gleam. It shut Miranda out most effectively.
She rose and stood beside him. “You knew we could not be considered suspects in this crime.”
He kept his eyes on the window. Tension crackled about him like a storm. “Yes.”
“So you purposely laid blame at your feet to force Winston to reveal what the police thought.”
He turned to look at her. “Is there a point to this line of inquiry?”
“Not really. Only that I find your tactics without conscience and… admirable. Well played.”
He twitched in surprise. “I am shocked, Lady Archer,” he teased in a low voice. “Winston Lane is, after all, your brother-in-law.”
“He is also CID. I cannot think them our friends in this. Not quite yet. That Winston was here to question us tells me as much.”
Beside her, Archer sighed and wrenched off his mask as though wearing it was getting more intolerable by the moment. She turned to survey him.
“Sir Percival’s valet said Percival called the coin a guide. Why?”
Archer’s head fell to the window as he sighed. “Because it is. We each received one. Each set of bumps upon the moon face makes up symbols that work with a cipher, thus revealing the location of the meeting place.” He glanced at her. “It doesn’t mean anything, Miranda. Only another breadcrumb to lead your good brother to my door.”
“But why you?” When he did not answer, her hand curled into a fist. “Evading CID is one thing. Hiding from me is another, Archer.”
He made a sound of annoyance. “Hiding… how very dramatic.”
Miranda’s fist thumped on the windowpane. “Moon’s members are being systematically killed.” The truth was lurking in his eyes, though he did an admirable job of trying to hide it. “But you remain untouched. Why?”
He glared at her. “I wouldn’t say untouched.”
Miranda waved her hand in irritation. “I remember that day in the museum quite clearly—”
“As do I.” Archer set his hands on his trim hips and glared at her. “One tends to remember when one’s wife is nearly murdered.”
Wife. The word gave her pause. At times she nearly forgot what they were to each other. Partners until death. But she could not let sentimentality rule the moment.
“My point being,” she said, “that you did not appear at all surprised when you first laid eyes on the fiend. On the contrary, you appeared to recognize him.”
“What I recognized,” he retorted rather nastily, “was myself. I knew then that the killer meant to appear as me.”
“He could have killed you at the museum, but he did not. It was an easy kill.”
“I am not so easily dispatched,” Archer muttered, turning his head slightly away. Her line of thinking must have been hitting near the mark because no pithy remarks were forthcoming.
“You are quite remarkably strong and agile,” she admitted, eyeing his impressive frame. The speed she’d seen last night was magnificent. “But not indestructible.”
“No.” He spread his arms wide. “One of your little verbal barbs would do me in, I’m sure.” He glanced as his chest at though checking for injury.
“Jest all you like,” she said, strolling around him, caging him in; she’d have the truth from him yet. “It won’t do you any good.”
He paced as well, his boots thudding over the carpet, until they circled each other like two great cats taking the other’s measure. “I am positively shivering with fear,” he said with a smile.
“Aren’t you,” she murmured, and Archer scowled. “What is your true affliction, Archer? How did you survive that tumble from the coach with nary a scratch?”
His mouth thinned. “I could ask the same of you. Your fall was infinitely worse, yet here you are…”—his eyes raked over her and a small shiver took hold of her belly—“unmarred.”
“Pure luck.”
“Luck,” he repeated. “You see? Not so mysterious.” His voice was a caress. She swallowed with difficulty.
“How… how did he get away the second time?”
“I failed to give chase.” His attention was on her lips now. She did not like the look at all, for she knew he aimed to distract her. That he was doing an excellent job only aggravated her further.
“Why?”
“You were stuck in a runaway coach.” He did not lift his eyes from her lips. “I thought it more pressing to save you.”
His dark head seemed to move ever closer. “Have I told you that your mouth is quite lovely?” His lids lowered a fraction. “Lovely and plump.”
Most assuredly trying to distract her. A wash of warmth invaded her limbs. “Perhaps you can write