A Perfect Deception

by Alyssa Drake

  “Mrs. Hastings suggested a remedy she believed would ease Samantha’s suffering.” Benjamin lifted his glass, taking a sip.

  “She asked Mrs. Brown to make up that tea,” interrupted Edward. “Samantha loves that tea. She drinks it all the time.” Groaning, Edward smacked himself in the face, dragging his fingers down to his chin. “When is the baby expected, Benjamin?”

  “A respectable enough period from our wedding date,” he replied, an easy grin on his face.

  “What about you?” Edward turned to Thomas, his eyes narrowing.

  “Me?” Thomas arched his eyebrow. Had Aunt Abigail put him up to this line of questioning? Edward had certainly taken an interest in Daphne’s welfare once he learned of her engagement to Thomas.

  “Yes. Do you have the same difficulty with your fiancée?” Edward slammed his glass on the tray.

  “I do not.”

  “Will you by the time your wedding date arrives?”

  “Possibly…” Thomas winked at Benjamin. “It is several months away.”

  “The two of you are incorrigible!” Edward snarled, throwing up his hands. The doorknob rattled. Stomping over to the door, Edward unlocked it, flinging it open.

  Asher waited on the other side. Hesitantly, he peeked his head into the room, nodding to Benjamin. “Please excuse my tardiness. There was an issue with the governess this morning, and unfortunately, she is no longer in my employ.”

  “What did the boys do?” asked Thomas. He lifted the final glass from the tray, holding it out to Asher. His relationship with Asher had been frosty for almost a month. He could not fault Asher; after all, Daphne had refused his hand in favor of Thomas.

  Asher crossed the room, accepting the snifter, his gaze flicking to Thomas. “Apparently, she does not like tadpoles in her tea.”

  Edward snorted. “Neither did my girls’ previous governess; she lasted less than a fortnight. They must have given your boys the idea.”

  “Do you have any suggestions as to how I can retain one?” Rubbing his forehead, Asher dropped into a nearby chair, setting his untouched glass on a table beside him. “I have lost three since we returned to Wiltshire.”

  “Not the slightest.” Edward claimed the chair across from him, saluting him with his glass. “Wilhelmina may have some recommendations. I’ll have her send you a list.”

  “Would she be willing to assist with the interviews?”

  “I suppose. However, that would have to wait until after we return.”

  “Where are you going?” Benjamin twisted toward Edward, his eyes narrowing.

  “With you and Samantha traveling to Greece, Wilhelmina decided to forgo the remainder season and stay in the country. We will be heading to the manor tomorrow; the girls are looking forward to swimming in the lake, and Marie has expressed an interest learning to fence.”

  “Will you be returning to town?” Asher asked Thomas. His quiet question held a note of melancholy. With Benjamin and Edward departing tomorrow, Asher would be left with only his boys for company.

  Thomas set his glass on the tray. “Aunt Abigail prefers the country; she claims the weather is good for her health. Since she is remaining at Westwood Estate, I have decided to stay on and sacrifice my social obligations.”

  “You mean, you have no desire to leave your fiancée,” snickered Benjamin.

  “If my staying in the country results in more time spent with my fiancée, I have no cause to complain.” Thomas grinned.

  Mrs. Hastings appeared in the doorway, her eyes skipping over the room. When she spied Edward, she smiled, her face glowing. “My dear, may I have a moment? I have something important to discuss with you.”

  “Is Sammie alright?” Edward leapt from his chair.

  “Samantha is fine,” replied Mrs. Hastings, a tight smile on her face. “She is dressed and impatiently pacing the room… This involves a matter between you and me.”

  “Perhaps she is in a delicate condition,” muttered Benjamin.

  “That would be an intriguing bit of news, would it not, Lord Westwood?” Mrs. Hastings replied, a light blush coloring her cheeks, looking toward Benjamin. “However, today would not be the day to make that announcement as it is your wedding day.” Her eyes returned to Edward. “It will only be one minute.”

  Nodding, Edward followed her from the room. Mr. Davis appeared in his stead. “My Lord, the carriage is ready to convey you to the chapel.”

  “Has Aidan arrived?” asked Benjamin, placing his glass beside Thomas’ snifter.

  “No, my Lord.”

  “Please inform me when he does.”

  “Is Mrs. Dubois expected as well?” Mr. Davis furtively glanced at Thomas.

  “No. Unfortunately, she was unable to make it to port in time. She sent word that she will meet us at the chapel. And—”

  “I have taken care of the other matter already,” Mr. Davis answered Benjamin’s unasked question, bowed, and retreated from the room.

  Benjamin embraced Thomas, hugging him tightly with one arm. “No one could ask for a finer brother than you. Thank you for everything you have sacrificed,” he whispered in Thomas’ ear, his voice fierce.

  Returning Benjamin’s embrace, Thomas grinned. “Yes, you are extremely fortunate.”

  Benjamin laughed, releasing Thomas and turning to Asher. “Do you believe me fortunate?”

  “Had I a brother,” replied Asher, his gaze sliding to Thomas, “I am certain he would be exactly like Thomas… which is why I only have sisters.”

  Snickering, Benjamin shook his head and crossed the room, passing through the doorway. Thomas waited for Asher to stand, following him to the exit. As Asher reached the door, he turned, blocking Thomas.

  “Do not think me unhappy for your engagement; you and Miss Clemens are well suited. I am merely saddened by my position and quite aware of how much I miss Isabella.” Asher sighed, sadness leaking through his face. “Simon and Lucas need a mother.”

  “Do not let Aunt Abigail and my mother hear that confession. They have run out of lives to meddle with, now that Benjamin and I are off the market.” Thomas placed a hand on Asher’s shoulder, squeezing gently.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Reid.” Daphne appeared behind Asher, curtsying.

  He spun around, bowing. “It is a pleasure to see you again, Miss Clemens. I am pleased to see you have recovered quite well from your adventures.”

  “I have redirected my attention to something more suitable.”

  “Which is?”

  “Shooting.” Her gaze skated over Asher’s shoulder, landing on Thomas. “Good afternoon, Thomas.”

  Her voice curled around him, winding through his mind and igniting his blood. His name on her lips, the word rendered him senseless. He stepped around Asher, lifting Daphne’s hand to his mouth, pressing his lips to her wrist.

  “Daphne.”

  She shivered, affected by his proximity. “Are we riding together?” she asked, breathlessly.

  “No, but I intend to give you a riding lesson later this evening.” Thomas winked, enjoying the blush sliding through Daphne’s skin.

  “Considering your injury, perhaps it best you allow me to give Miss Clemens her lesson.”

  A dark cloud passed over Thomas’ face, his hand tightening possessively around Daphne’s wrist. “I am the only man who will give her a riding lesson… ever.”

  “It was merely a suggestion.” Asher held up his hands, backing away from Thomas’ ire.

  “Thomas.” Daphne touched her finger to his cheek, turning his head toward her. Her eyes, soft and round, locked on his face. “There is no need to threaten your cousin. I would never accept another riding instructor.” She cupped his cheek. “You are the only man I want.”

  “Are you saying you love me?” Thomas tilted his head.

  “Have I not told you that this morning?” Grinning, Daphne bumped her forehead against his.

  “Not in the last few hours.”

  “I love you, Thomas Reid.”

 
“And I love you.” Thomas leaned down, pressing his mouth to hers. His body caught fire, desire flooding his veins. He pulled away reluctantly, lifting her hand to his mouth once more. “I only have one more request of my fiancée today.”

  “Which is?” Confusion passed over Daphne’s face.

  “Will you help me find Asher a wife?”

  * * *

  The End

  * * *

  Thank you for reading A Perfect Deception. If you enjoyed the love story between Daphne and Thomas, please consider leaving a review wherever you purchased the story, it really does make a difference. If you are interested in hearing about new releases, behind-the-scenes author secrets, sales, and giveaways, sign up for my newsletter. Now, I invite you to continue the adventure with a preview of AN IMPERFECT SCOUNDREL.

  * * *

  ♥ Alyssa

  Chapter One - An Imperfect Scoundrel

  “I feel like we’ve abandoned them.” Alana flung her hands in the air, nearly hitting the top of the coach. Her stomach twisted into knots. She’d told Mr. Thomas Reid that very afternoon, she was sailing for America. He seemed unsurprised by her announcement, and a small part of her suspected he approved of Aidan’s insistence of sending her as far away from Franklin Morris as possible. “They’re our cousins, Aidan; they could die.”

  “They will survive for a few hours while I convey you to London and retrieve Patrick.” Aidan’s tight voice belied his sentiment, his eyes glowing fiercely in the dim cabin. “Both Samantha and Edward know how to use a pistol; Benjamin and Thomas are with them.”

  “What about Da?” Alana’s eyes flicked to the man scrunched into the corner on her left, snoring lightly, his head drooping on his chest.

  “Are you suggesting I should have left him on the property, alone?” Aidan arched an eyebrow, his hand curling around rifle stretched across his lap. The same one Aidan extracted from Da when he shoved him into the coach. Had Aidan told their father where they were headed? “He would have shot someone.”

  Alana tilted her head, pursing her lips in frustration. Leaning forward, she hissed, “I meant about sending me to America.”

  “You agreed!”

  “You tricked me!”

  A smirk crossed Aidan’s face—acknowledgement of her accusation. “Patrick and I are quite capable of caring for Da while assisting with the capture of Mr. Morris. You…” his voice trailed off.

  “If you say, I’m a woman, I will slap you,” growled Alana.

  Another smirk. “Actually, I was going to say you’re a woman.”

  She flew off the bench, a ball of anger and irritation, swiping at his face. Aidan captured her arms, forcing her down next to him. Collecting both her wrists in one hand, he placed a finger over her mouth, his eyes flicking to their father. She snapped her teeth, nearly biting his fingertip. Aidan sighed, releasing her. “How do you think your death would affect Da?”

  Her hand raised to smack his face, she paused, her brother’s melancholy question floating around her. She stared into his blue eyes, a mirror of her own, then slowly lowered her hand. “That’s unfair.”

  He reached over, placing his hand on top of hers and squeezing. “With you safe in America, Mr. Morris cannot hurt you. Once he is arrested, you can return.” Aidan shrugged. “Perhaps you’ll even meet someone.”

  Alana arched an eyebrow. “Matchmaking? You hardly seem the type to meddle.”

  He grinned. “Something to occupy my time.”

  “Pray tell, who did you have in mind for me?”

  Stroking his chin, Aidan dragged out the silence. “To be honest, there’s not one man in Wiltshire I’d subject to your fiery temperament.”

  She punched him in the shoulder and moved to the opposite bench, folding her arms across her chest. “When are you going to tell Da about sending me to America… after a year has passed?”

  “I’m not banishing you forever.” Rolling his eyes, Aidan rubbed his arm. “I swear to send for you as soon as possible.”

  Her mouth crooked. She’d hit him harder than he expected. “And you? What plans have you for your own happiness?”

  He paled, a brief flash of terror washed over his face. “I have no plans.”

  “It seems only fair, dear brother, if I am subject to the marriage mart once again, you must experience it at least once.”

  “I have been dealing with it for the whole of my adult life.”

  “Are you not tired of being pursued by females?”

  “Pursued?” Aidan snorted. “No woman wants a husband who is caring for an addled father, no matter how much property he owns.”

  “If she is with you for your inheritance, she’s not the right one for you.” Alana narrowed her eyes. “When I return from America, I will find you a suitable wife.”

  He swallowed. “I have no need of your assistance.”

  “I think you do.” Alana grinned, enjoying his discomfort. “First, we will find a custodian for Da, then we will you a wife.”

  “What of Patrick? He’s the eldest.”

  “Patrick is against marriage.” Alana waved her hand, dismissing the notion. In truth, Patrick was against any form of social activity. The eldest Flannery left for Wiltshire when he turned eighteen, only returning once for his mother’s funeral, preferring to remain locked inside his lighthouse. Alana was stunned to learn Patrick agreed to assist with their father.

  “I am too,” Aidan grumbled, his mouth folding into a thin line. “You are the girl.”

  “And I was married. Sebastian died.” Patrick attended her wedding in France, his demeanor withdrawn and haunted. It was the last time she’d seen Patrick.

  “Thus, we start over, and it is your turn.” Grinning, he tilted his head. “I’m certain Patrick will agree with me.”

  Alana narrowed her eyes, tapping her fingers together as she considered her brother’s statement. “I have a proposal for you.”

  Amusement crossed his face. “Do continue.”

  “Once I have secured a husband for myself—do not laugh dear brother, I have turned down several proposals since Sebastian’s death—you will allow me to match you with a suitable woman.”

  “And Patrick, are you going to leave him to his solitude?”

  “Certainly, not.” Alana laughed. “However, I will need your support for that particular undertaking, and it would be much easier with your wife’s assistance.” She leaned forward, holding out her arm. “Do we have an agreement?”

  Aidan’s eyes flicked to her hand. “After the heartache you have suffered, the premature death of Sebastian, and the rejection of your previous fiancé…”

  Bristling, Alana slid forward, her nose nearly bumping into his, a menacing growl rumbling in her throat. “Thomas and I were not well-suited; fate saw fit to separate us, and I will not hear you speak one disparaging word about him.”

  “Thomas is one of my dearest friends; it is my right to speak ill of him.” Aidan snickered, leaning back against the seat. “Are you certain you want to take on another husband?”

  “It’s been over two years,” Alana replied. “I will always love Sebastian, just like I will always love Thomas, but I am lonely, Aidan. I want someone to talk to. Do you not understand that feeling?”

  “I do,” he sighed as though his heart weighed heavy. Scooting forward, he clasped her fingers in his, pumping her hand once. “We have an accord. However, I do not recommend informing Patrick of your plans to meddle; he’ll vanish before you finish the word matrimony.”

  Laughing, Alana’s eyes flicked to the window behind her father, the smile fading from her face. The journey had been much quicker than she anticipated. She swallowed, retracting her hand. “Are we almost there?”

  Aidan craned his head, staring out the glass. He nodded, glancing back at her. “Are you nervous? You’ve sailed before.”

  “Not this far,” whispered Alana.

  Aidan’s hand whipped out, grabbing her wrist and yanking her to his bench. Bumping his forehead against her
s, he grinned. “That doesn’t sound like something my sister would say.”

  “What would she say?”

  “She would tell me not to worry about her.”

  “But you do, anyway.”

  “Every single day.” He embraced her.

  “I shall miss you as well.” Alana sniffed, throwing her arms around him and burying her face in his collar.

  “Where are you going?” asked a gruff voice. Their father peeled one eyelid open, his faded blue eye glaring at them. “You said we were here to collect Patrick.”

  “We are,” placated Alana, sliding across the aisle.

  Their father sat up, staring at her, his mouth pinched into a thin line. “I’m disappointed in you, m’girl, lying to your father.” His gaze flicked to Aidan. “You as well.”

  “It is what is best—”

  “I decide what is best for this family.” He slammed his fist against the side of the carriage. “If your mother knew… the treachery, sneaking around behind my back.” He lunged for the rifle, but Aidan reacted quicker, snatching the barrel out of the older man’s hands.

  “Da!” Aidan shook his head. “You cannot shoot people in London.”

  “I’ll shoot anyone who lays a hand on my daughter!”

  “Just tell him, Aidan.” Alana jerked her head at her father.

  “Tell me what.” His eyes narrowed.

  “We are here to collect Patrick and transport him back to our estate…”

  “And?” Their father folded his arms, pointedly staring at the rifle.

  “And with the continued threat of Mr. Morris, we—” Aidan gestured between Alana and himself “—decided Alana would be safer in America until he was captured.”

  “We?” He arched a bushy white eyebrow, turning his attention to Alana. “Is this really what you want?”

  Alana glanced at Aidan, questioning. Did she need to go as far as America? Surely, France was far enough. Aidan tilted his head. She knew the reason. Mr. Franklin Morris’ reach extended through Europe. As Aidan explained the extent of Mr. Morris’ crimes—information shared with him by Benjamin—they both realized Alana wouldn’t be safe unless she traveled further than his capability. She turned back to her father, holding his gaze. “We.”