Before the Scandal

by Suzanne Enoch

  On the other hand, the unnamed things that were worse than an attic room could kill her. No home at all? Life on the streets of London? If her own family threw her out, no one would hire her as a governess or a companion. And the money she had to hand would only be enough to delay the inevitable, not prevent it.

  She wanted to think that an alliance with Phin would help her, but she wasn’t willing to wager her future on the idea of him abandoning the military for her sake. Alyse lay back on her new bed. If Phin had never returned home, none of this would have happened. She would still be in the attic, but she wouldn’t have to worry about wintering in Covent Garden somewhere. She would have had the time she needed to make her escape on her own terms.

  If she thought about it logically, then Richard was attempting to intimidate her. Did that mean he suspected that her loyalties had strayed? Or was he so desperate for the answer he wanted that he would push her to lie in order to get it? Hm. It helped, to look at this as a problem that could be solved rather than as a threat to her continued…what, happiness?

  Except that she was happy now because Phin was home. She’d always relished his friendship, and had been angry when his actions, as well as her parents’ warnings, had driven them apart. But now it was more than friendship. He felt like a part of her life. An important part. She wondered whether a share of ten thousand pounds could convince him to stay.

  She could always ask him, she supposed. And somehow she needed to inform him that she was in a different room now before he came calling in the middle of the night and found her gone. Mary would have her attic room now, and that would be awkward. She stifled an unexpected smile.

  Sitting up again, she looked out her window in time to see Richard riding off in the direction of Quence. So she could sit alone in her bedchamber and wish she could talk to Phin, or she could do something that might help him. He’d looked through Richard’s office, he’d said, but that had been in the dark, and he’d obviously not had much time. She would have at least an hour.

  If she was going to be thrown out of Donnelly House, it should at least be for something she’d done—not because she’d been unable or unwilling to take any action in this at all. Ignoring the hard, fast beating of her heart, Alyse stood and went to her door, then headed downstairs.

  In the morning room she could hear Aunt Ernesta complaining to someone about a lack of gratitude and getting a swelled head, so she assumed herself to be the target. The fact that for the first time in almost two years she didn’t have to sit and listen to it, though, was heavenly. If this was only a temporary reprieve and her life would return to the attic, she had this one thing for which to be grateful. She touched her lips as she slipped into Richard’s office. She had more than one thing.

  Silently she closed the door behind her. Where in the world had Phin been hiding last night? When her father had used this room it had been pleasantly cluttered, but now it was spotless. The only hiding place at all seemed to be under the desk. Heavens. He’d been that close, and she and Richard had never known it. Clearly he hadn’t stayed alive through ten years of war by chance or by luck. Phin knew his business, and he knew it well.

  Later, Alyse, she reminded herself, and sat at the desk. Slowly, careful to be silent, she pulled open the drawers one by one and looked through them. If her cousin caught her at this, she wouldn’t have the chance to sleep a single night in her new bedchamber.

  Nothing. Pursing her lips, she went to the bookcase behind her. Books on Bath and Roman history, the almanac, various books on planting and on architecture. Most of the farming books had belonged to her father, but the other ones must have been put there by Richard.

  Her cousin did seem to have an obsession with Roman baths. First he’d gone all aflutter nearly two years ago when she’d mentioned that Quence Park had the ruins there. And then when he’d decided to reside at Donnelly Park rather than at Halfens in Devon, he’d mentioned his wish to see the ruins almost on a daily basis.

  Alyse froze. It had just been a keen interest. Certainly Richard hadn’t intended anything sinister when he’d settled himself and his mother here. This hadn’t happened because she’d mentioned the bath ruins to him back when she’d resided with her horrid Great-Aunt Stevens in Hereford. Back when he’d first decided that she should be companion to his mother.

  She shook her head, placing the books back on the shelf. No, no, no. It was merely a coincidence. The move here had had nothing to do with her, and nothing to do with anything on Quence property.

  But did she want to tell Phin about these coincidences? He would certainly wish to know. If they weren’t mere happenstance, however, then this could be her fault. The troubles at Quence, even Phin’s return. She closed her eyes for a moment. If she’d caused Phin’s return, she couldn’t precisely regret it. Not that.

  “I’ll fetch her, my lord,” came Mary’s voice, followed by the sound of someone hurrying up the stairs.

  Oh, good heavens. Richard couldn’t be home already. Blast it. With a quick check to make certain she’d left the office tidy, Alyse inched open the door and peered into the hallway. She could just make out the foyer…and Lord Anthony Ellerby standing there.

  There was absolutely no way she could leave the office without him seeing her. Alyse shut the door again and turned around. The window. Hurrying over, she unlatched it and pushed the heavy thing open.

  Not taking the time to wonder if she could actually make it or not, she hiked her bottom onto the sill and swung her legs over. She pushed off and dropped to the ground. By reaching up she could just touch the bottom of the opened-out glass, and she shoved at both sides hard. With a creak they swung closed. It wasn’t perfect, but it would serve for the moment.

  Alyse hiked up her skirts and ran for the front of the house. Then she slowed and walked as calmly as she could up the front steps and pushed open the door. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “Lord Anthony! I was out walking in the garden. I had no idea you’d arrived.”

  With a smile, the light-haired duke’s grandson took her fingers and bowed over them. “I’m only pleased you’re here.”

  “I’m afraid Richard has gone out riding with your sister and Beth Bromley.”

  “I know. I was wondering if I might persuade you to go riding with me.”

  Alyse covered her quick frown. Did Lord Anthony know that she’d been granted some freedom? If he was part of this, perhaps he was to attempt to charm her after Richard had delivered his threats. Well, she could ask her own questions while she avoided answering his. “I would be delighted,” she said. “Let me go upstairs and change.”

  “I’ll attempt to entertain your aunt while I wait,” he returned with his open smile.

  Halfway up the stairs she nearly crashed into Mary, and put out her hands to stop herself. “Goodness.”

  “I was looking for you, miss,” the maid said with a nervous curtsy.

  “I was out in the garden. You should go see to Mrs. Donnelly before she becomes impatient.”

  Mary gave her a pained smile. “Thank you, miss.”

  So she’d earned some freedom, however temporary it might be, at another’s expense. If she ended up receiving ten thousand pounds, she decided right then, Mary was coming away from this place with her. And so was Saunders the butler.

  Her clothes had also been moved into her new quarters, and though they hadn’t been made more fashionable by their trip down the stairs, she found that she minded their dated appearance a bit less. Swiftly she buttoned up the front of her sea-green riding dress, stomped into her boots, and hurried down the stairs again.

  Lord Anthony was listening to a diatribe on joint stiffness when she swept into the room. “All ready,” she said, smiling a little because she knew Aunt Ernesta wouldn’t like her leaving the house without having first asked permission.

  “Take a groom with you, for heaven’s sake,” her aunt said, scowling. “If you ruin yourself a second time, no one will wish anything to do with any of us.”

  A
lyse settled for nodding, rather than pointing out that she had been ruined several times by Phin Bromley. “I’ll be back soon.”

  “Yes, go. Ungrateful girl.”

  Winston saddled the white mare Snowbird and helped her up into the sidesaddle. She thought the mare had been purchased as a gift for Beth, but apparently hers weren’t the only plans that were changing. After the head groom arrived outside the stable on another horse, Anthony gestured her to take the lead down the path that wound alongside the small lake.

  “You ride well,” he said after a minute, drawing even with her, while Winston fell in a good twenty yards behind. Goodness, it had only taken four years for her to warrant a regular chaperon again.

  “Thank you. Until a few weeks ago, I hadn’t had the opportunity to ride in quite some time.”

  “You’ve had a great deal of misfortune fall your way, haven’t you, Alyse?”

  “Some,” she acknowledged, keeping in mind that they were both probably looking for information. “And some kindnesses, too.”

  “You mean Richard, taking you in.”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you thought about your future if Richard should ask for Elizabeth Bromley’s hand?”

  She knew what he meant; Beth would become the mistress of the household, and would likely become the companion of choice for Richard’s mother. Poor Beth. That wasn’t Lord Anthony’s point, however. “I’m certain Richard would find a place for me in his household,” she lied. “We are family, after all.”

  “Of course. Is it a place you would wish, however?”

  Alyse looked over at him, tall and straight on his pretty bay hunter. “Why are you asking me this, my lord?”

  “Anthony, please. We’ve become friends, don’t you think?”

  Not by her definition of friendship. “Yes, we have. Anthony, then.”

  He smiled. “Very good. So tell me, Alyse, what is your favorite bit of countryside?”

  “I enjoy the lake very much. Have you visited the Jupiter’s temple on the far side?”

  “I haven’t.”

  “It’s very picturesque.”

  “I’m sure it is. Are there any Roman ruins on the Donnelly estate, or does Quence Park have the only remains in the area?”

  Again the ruins were the topic of interest. Phin suspected Smythe and Richard. Was Lord Anthony interested merely because everyone else seemed to be, or was there a third member of Phin’s conspiracy? “Only Quence Park, as far as I know. There are some old barrows on your grandfather’s estate that might predate any Roman settlements.”

  “Yes, I’ve seen them. You know your ancient history, then.”

  “Only what we all learned as children after being caught pitching Roman coins into the old baths or jumping over the collapsed roofs.” That had been Phin, actually, but she’d stayed about for the lecture and for the roasted quail served for dinner at Quence afterward.

  “You were an adventurous child, then. Tell me about the condition of these baths. How many separate pools are there?”

  “Haven’t you seen them? I thought Richard must have taken you and Lord Charles riding across Quence.”

  “Oh, we’ve done our tour, but you actually know the place. I’m certain you have insight that none of us do.”

  “You might ask Lord Quence, or Beth, or Phin. The baths are theirs, after all.”

  A muscle beneath his left eye twitched. “If I didn’t know any better, I would say that you’re avoiding the question,” he said with a grin.

  She met his gaze. “All I’m trying to avoid,” she returned, “is discussing something about which I have very little knowledge. Ask me about Paris fashions or who’s been portraying Ophelia and Hamlet onstage at Drury Lane, and I am all information.”

  Had she annoyed him? Or would he become suspicious that she did know more than she wished to say? Lord Anthony chuckled. “A fair riposte. Tell me this, then. As a longtime resident of East Sussex, who do you suspect of being our French highwayman?”

  Oh, dear. She’d fallen out of the pot and into the fireplace. “I did grow up here, but before I returned with Richard I’m afraid I have to claim a nearly five-years’ absence,” she said easily, amazed at how steady her voice stayed. “I don’t know of any Frenchman, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t one lurking about. If Lord Charles didn’t kill him, as he claimed.”

  “Aren’t you curious about his identity?”

  “Only insofar as he has my pearls, and I would like them back. Otherwise, I would simply wish him gone from here.”

  “And that’s all you have to say on the subject?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid so. Do you have an idea who he might be?”

  “I do indeed, but I prefer not to say without proof.”

  Her blood chilled. “If you know who he is,” she returned, not having to pretend her frown, “then why are you asking my opinion?”

  “You’re a beautiful young lady who behaved foolishly, Alyse,” he said quietly, reaching over to pull Snowbird up as he stopped beside her. “Under the right circumstances, you could be very useful to have about. As things are now, and as they could become, I suggest you not trifle with your betters.” He released Snowbird’s bridle again. “We could see to matters in the way we consider most efficient, so I suppose your moment to be most useful to the most people would be…now.”

  They would kill Phin. And perhaps William, too, and even Beth, if she wasn’t willing to go along with whatever Richard might be planning for her. Alyse wanted to be ill. All of this over some ancient ruins? Why? She could scarcely believe such a thing. But it was their beliefs, and their intentions, that would count.

  She drew a steadying breath. “Richard said specifically that he wanted proof. All of you threatening me will not gain you that. If you want proof, I need a few days. And perhaps time to spend going riding with Phin rather than with you, Lord Anthony.”

  “Ah, we’re not friends now, then,” he said easily. “Remain useful, Alyse, or we may be forced to find something else with which to occupy your time.” His gaze lowered to her breasts. “There are many ways to be useful, I suppose,” he mused.

  Alyse turned Snowbird back toward Donnelly House. “Winston, Lord Anthony must leave us now. Please see me home.”

  “Of course, Miss Alyse.”

  What she wanted to do was go find Phin, but at the same time she didn’t know where Lord Charles was, or what Lord Anthony might do now. If they thought she was telling Phin what was going on, they might simply put another ball through him. And this time he might not be as lucky. But she had very few options.

  She couldn’t send Phin a letter, because Richard would hear about it even if he didn’t somehow manage to read it. Alyse frowned, looking over her shoulder to see Anthony Ellerby in the distance, riding at a canter back toward the Duke of Beaumont’s estate.

  “I’ve changed my mind, Winston,” she said as soon as Lord Anthony vanished over the hill. “I’d like to ride to Quence and call on my friends there.”

  “Very good, miss.” Winston fell in a little behind and beside her again. “And if I might say, it’s nice to see you riding again these days.”

  “Thank you, Winston. It’s nice to be riding again.” For however long that lasted. Which would at least be until she managed to get to Phin.

  Chapter 22

  Proof could be a damned elusive thing. In war, one didn’t always have time for it. A preponderance of evidence would serve, or even a gut feeling if a decision needed to be made quickly. This, however, was a different sort of war.

  Phineas leaned over the door of Ajax’s stall and fed the black an apple. “I think we may get you some exercise tonight,” he said, rubbing the big fellow’s nose.

  The level of proof he needed was directly opposed to the level of faith the people he needed to convince had in him. He therefore needed a great deal of proof. And at this particular moment he remained uncertain of how much he wanted to tell his family. William certainly wasn’t up to a violent
confrontation with anyone. And all that prevented him from taking matters in hand all on his own was the wish for…what, forgiveness? Acceptance?

  “Colonel,” young Tom said, skidding into the stables, “someone’s riding in.”

  Handing over the remainder of the apple to Ajax, Phineas left the stables. As he entered the front courtyard, a white mare trotted into view, another rider behind. He recognized the mare’s rider immediately, and his heart began bashing about in his chest. “Alyse,” he said, walking forward to catch the mare’s bridle.

  “Phin,” she returned breathlessly. “Help me down. I haven’t much time.”

  Mindful that the courtyard was visible from most of the windows at the front of the house, Phineas placed his hands around her waist and lifted her to the ground. It took every bit of self-control he possessed not to pull her into an embrace and kiss her. “What brings you here?” he asked, noting that her groom was well within earshot.

  “I’ve come to see your yellow horse again,” she announced. “I’ve become distressingly fond of him. Winston, remain here with Snowbird, if you please.”

  The groom tugged on the brim of his hat. “Of course, miss.”

  A few days ago Phineas wouldn’t have dared allow her into the stables. Now, though, he didn’t seem to have any secrets left at all where Alyse Donnelly was concerned. He offered his arm, trying to ignore the jump of his muscles as she slid her fingers around his sleeve. “Saffron will be delighted to see you,” he said, for the groom’s edification.

  As soon as they were through the door of the stables he grabbed her shoulders, pushing her back against a support post and lowering his mouth over hers. “That’s more like it,” he murmured against her mouth. He craved her; there was no other way to describe it. And no cure but Alyse.

  She slid her arms around his neck. “Good heavens,” she whispered, turning her gaze beyond his shoulder. “He looks as though he might eat children and small animals.”

  Phin chuckled against her mouth. “That’s Ajax,” he said, knowing without looking what had her attention. “He’s actually quite gentlemanly. Unless you’re talking about me, in which case you’d best beware.”