“What the devil did she mean by that comment about your gown?” he asked. “I think the dress looks very nice on you.”
“She was implying that the reason we are planning a hasty wedding is that I am pregnant,” Amity said.
Benedict’s jaw tightened. “Leona is an extremely irritating female.”
Amity fiddled absently with her tessen while she watched the crowd. “I am told that you knew her rather well at one time.”
Benedict glanced down at the lethal fan. A smile edged the corner of his mouth and a dark amusement lit his eyes.
“I think I can guess who may have mentioned that supremely unimportant fact,” he said.
“My sister thought it best to forewarn me.”
“I admit that there was a period in my life when Leona and I passed some time in each other’s company. For a while I was under the impression that she found me... interesting.” Benedict shrugged. “But when I discovered that in reality she considered me to be a great bore we parted ways.”
“May I ask how you came to make that discovery?”
Benedict surprised her with one of his rare, quick, grins. “She made the mistake of telling one of her friends, who told her husband. He, in turn, mentioned it at his club. Word got back to me.”
“I see.” Amity peered at him. “You don’t appear to have had your heart broken by the incident.”
“To be honest, it was something of a relief when the end came,” Benedict said. “I had become aware of the fact that it was all she could do not to yawn in my presence.” He paused and then asked coolly, “What about you and Nash? Did he break your heart?”
“I certainly thought so at the time. But, then, I was only nineteen. In hindsight, I consider that I had a very narrow escape. Marriage to Humphrey Nash would have been a nightmare. I very much doubt that he is capable of loving anyone except himself. He does hold a great deal of admiration for his own accomplishments.”
“I don’t suppose there is any possibility that he might be the Bridegroom?”
The hopefulness in Benedict’s voice would have been amusing under other circumstances, Amity thought. He obviously yearned for an excuse to do something drastic to Humphrey.
“No,” she said firmly. “He is not the Bridegroom. Furthermore, I regret to report that none of the other men I have met here tonight fit my memories of the killer.”
“Damn. We need to get beyond the names on that guest list.”
“How do you propose to do that?”
Benedict contemplated the crowd in silence for a long moment. Amity knew that he was silently envisioning possibilities and probabilities.
“Well?” she prompted after a time.
“Connections,” he said very quietly.
“What?”
“There must be links and connections to the killer. We need to find the right one.”
“I don’t understand,” Amity said.
“We can’t talk in here. Let’s take a walk in the gardens.”
“Certainly.”
Benedict took her arm and steered her through the crowd and out onto the broad terrace. The extensive gardens behind the mansion were drenched in shadows. Here and there lanterns bobbed like fairy lights in the night. On one side of the grounds a glass-walled conservatory glittered obsidian dark in the moonlight. At the far end Amity could see the looming outline of a large structure that resembled an Italian villa. She had been told that it was the handsome stables that Gilmore had built to house his impressive collection of horses.
For the first time since they had arrived at the Gilmore ball, Amity allowed herself to take a deep breath. She had not realized how tense she had been all evening until now. It was as if she and Benedict had been on stage from the moment they had arrived. All eyes had turned toward them when they had entered the ballroom—and just as quickly turned away again. But then the whispers had begun. They had ebbed and flowed through the crowd. More than once Amity had caught snatches of the conversations.
“I see that she is not wearing the family necklace.”
“I wouldn’t put too much stock in the engagement. Obviously he hasn’t given her the Rose Necklace.”
