Before the Scandal

by Suzanne Enoch

  Alyse nuzzled her face against his shoulder, the desperation of her grip a bit alarming. “Can we speak here?” she asked quietly.

  So she hadn’t ridden to Quence just for kisses. Phineas took a steadying breath and backed away a few inches. “Yes, we can speak here.”

  “Some things have happened today.” To his surprise a tear rolled down her cheek. She wiped it away swiftly. “I think this may be my fault,” she continued at an unsteady whisper.

  Phineas scowled. “What do you mean, your fault? That’s ridiculous.”

  “I may as well just say it.” She stroked a finger along the scar on his face, then curled her hand into a fist, withdrawing. “Richard came to see me when I was staying in Hereford. He mentioned that he was torn between settling at Halfens or at Donnelly House. Since I’d lived at both, he wanted to know which would suit him better. During the conversation I mentioned the Roman ruins at Quence. He was very interested. The next thing I knew, he’d whisked me away from Aunt Stevens to be companion to his mother, and we were moving to Donnelly.” She sniffed. “He would never have known about the baths if I hadn’t been trying so desperately to be interesting.”

  “It’s not your fault, Alyse. For God’s sake. You mentioned something of interest. Most people wouldn’t have then taken on the idea of driving their neighbor off the property and turning the springs into a resort for all the aristocrats traveling between London and Brighton.”

  Her wind-reddened cheeks paled. “He means to do that?”

  He nodded. “It’s mostly putting those two maps together along with some logic and conjecture, but it makes more sense than anything else. All I need now is some bloody proof.”

  “That’s what they want, as well.”

  Quietly and concisely she told him about her new bedchamber, the horse, the ride with Lord Anthony, and the threats. The blood left his face as he listened. The bastards could threaten him—even try to kill him—but no one—no one—was allowed to hurt his family. And that included his Alyse.

  His Alyse. He didn’t know when that had happened, but that was how he thought of her now. And of everything she’d said, the bit that angered him the most was Lord Anthony Ellerby’s suggestion of ways she could be made useful.

  “Phin?” She touched his arm.

  He jumped. “What?”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Go inside and get my weapons,” he said shortly, moving past her.

  “You can’t kill anyone,” she gasped, grabbing his wrist. “We have no proof, remember?”

  “I won’t kill Ellerby.” He shrugged free. “I’ll just make certain that the only way he can ever bed a woman again is in his imagination.”

  “And then you will go to prison, or be transported, or hanged. What will become of your family then?”

  Phineas stopped. Facing the doorway, his jaw clenched, he worked on returning his breathing to normal. It hadn’t even been his family he’d been thinking of in particular. It had been her. “I’ll risk it.”

  “No! No. I won’t allow it.”

  He whipped around, facing her. “You won’t allow it?” he repeated.

  “We still have a few days, Phin. Nothing has changed other than the fact that they’ve expressed some of their intentions aloud. That can only help us, yes?”

  She had a point, damn it all. “At the least I don’t want you going back there. You’ll stay here.”

  “And forfeit both what little trust Richard has in me, and the ten thousand pounds? I don’t think so.”

  “If I win, Alyse, he won’t be in a position to give you anything.”

  For a moment she gazed at him. “I know that.”

  The pattern of his heartbeat changed. He could feel it in his chest, still beating, but…more alive. More fierce. More protective. And at the same moment, he knew why. And he wanted to tell her, wanted to say the words aloud. I love you, Alyse. I love you, I love you, I love you. “You are a very good friend,” he said instead, his voice husky. “And I think it’s time we stop waiting to see what they are going to do, and take the offensive.”

  She eyed him dubiously. “And how do we do that?”

  “We use our highwayman,” he said.

  Alyse gasped. “Phin, they’ll kill you. They won’t have to prove you’re The Frenchman, because they’ll have your corpse there to show the world.”

  “It isn’t my intention to die.”

  Walking back up to him, she grabbed his lapels in her hands. “Are you certain of that? Because it looks to me as though you’ve decided the only way you can make amends to William is to save Quence and be killed in the process.”

  That may have been how this began. She knew him devilish well. Phineas smiled down at her. “I’ve recently discovered that I have several things I wish to live for.”

  “Do you, now?”

  He leaned down and touched his lips softly to hers. “Yes, I do.”

  She kissed him back. “Then don’t attempt this alone.”

  “I make no promises, though I have a few ideas. I’ll get word to you in the next few days. Try to keep my secret until then if you can. If…if it compromises your own safety to do so, then for God’s sake tell them.”

  “I’m supposed to be winning your trust. I would suggest that you call on me.”

  Phineas grinned. “How can I refuse that invitation?”

  “Humph. Snowbird and I had best return before Richard does, or he may think that Anthony panicked me, and I ran to you for help.” She grimaced. “Which I did.”

  “You came here with information I needed. I’ve yet to see you panic.”

  Alyse lifted up on her toes to kiss him again. “I don’t know whether you’re good for me, but I certainly do enjoy being around you,” she breathed, then released his coat and stepped back. “Please be careful.”

  “You be careful, Alyse. I’ll see you tomorrow, if I can.”

  He didn’t want to let her leave. Keeping her there, though, would do her more harm than good. And so he stood and watched as she rode back in the direction of Donnelly House. He had more than just the rescue of Quence Park to deal with. One thing at a time, though. Time to do as he’d told Alyse, and take the offensive.

  When he returned to the house, Digby pulled open the front door for him. “Might I have some luncheon prepared for you, Master Phineas?” he wheezed.

  “Is William eating?”

  “Lord Quence has requested a pea soup, sir.”

  “I’ll have some as well, then. Where is he?”

  “In the library.”

  “My thanks, Digby.”

  Phineas trotted up the stairs and down the long corridor to the library. He’d never spent much time in there as a youth, and he certainly hadn’t set a boot heel through the door since he’d returned. It seemed a good setting, though, since he was about to attempt to educate William, and hope to God that he didn’t kill his brother in the process.

  “Good afternoon,” he said, strolling into the bright, window-lined room.

  “Phin,” his brother said, looking up from a book set in his lap and then returning to it.

  “Andrews, give us a few moments, will you?” Phineas asked, looking at the valet where he sat in a windowsill. He couldn’t remember ever seeing the man seated before, but he supposed that standing for the entire time William was awake each day would get a bit tiresome.

  “My lord?” Andrews asked, not moving.

  “See to having my luncheon brought up here, please.”

  “Yes, my lord.” The valet stood and glided to the door.

  “Mine as well, Andrews,” Phineas put after him, though the servant didn’t acknowledge that he’d heard the request. “He’s very loyal to you, that fellow.”

  “He’s my legs,” William said simply. “What do you want?”

  Phineas went back and closed the door, then pulled a chair over to sit opposite his brother. “I need to speak with you.”

  “So I gathered.”

  Wil
liam wasn’t going to make this easy, then. After what Phineas had said to him last night, though, he could hardly blame his brother for being standoffish. “You’re the patriarch of this family, and I—”

  “I’m aware of my position.”

  Taking a breath, Phineas reminded himself that no insult William could hand him could possibly make them even. “You need to know what’s been going on.”

  “Here?”

  “Yes, here.”

  “Ah. And where have you been over the past ten years, that you are going to tell me what’s going on here?”

  “I know where I’ve been. But being here doesn’t mean you’ve seen everything that—”

  “You mean because I sit here in my wheeled chair looking through windows?”

  Phineas gritted his teeth. “That is not…I’ve been in a unique position to see things from the outside. And th—”

  “‘Unique.’ That’s one way of putting it, I suppose.”

  “The messenger isn’t important. But the information—”

  “Looking for sympathy now, are you?”

  Phineas shot to his feet, his hands curling into fists. “Will you shut your bloody mouth for a damned minute and let me speak? For God’s sake!”

  William looked up at him. “It’s about damned time.”

  “What?”

  “I can’t count the number of times you and I argued over the years, Phin. And ten years ago it became very evident that you would rather not speak to me, not contact me at all, if it meant the possibility of a disagreement.”

  “I don’t have the right to argue with you.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because.” Phineas drew a hard breath. He would rather talk about anything else than this. Anything.

  “Because you knocked your mount into mine and I ended up breaking my back?”

  “Yes.”

  “Sit down, Phin.”

  The muscles across his back so tight he swore he could feel them creaking, Phineas sat down again. “My…sins aren’t what matter at the moment. You need to listen to me. And then when I finish this, I’ll leave again. I’ve done enough damage to this family.”

  “You’re one-third of this family. But your whereabouts aren’t my decision. I won’t ask you to stay, or to go.”

  “You may be calm and superior at the moment, William, but you had to hate me. You have to hate me still.”

  “No.” William shook his head. “I was angry at you. You left us at the time you most should have stayed.”

  “I nearly killed you. Intentionally.”

  William eyed him. “Honestly, Phin, it hurt more that you gave up and fled when you could have stepped forward and become…the man we all wanted you to be. And I think we both know that if you’d wanted to kill me, I would be dead.”

  Phineas wanted to stand and pace, but he remained seated because William had to remain seated. “I didn’t—I couldn’t look at you. I ruined your life, William. I would never have let me back into this house.”

  “I was furious that you abandoned me with a broken back, a seven-year-old sister, and property that needed to be managed. But I have never hated you.” He cocked an eyebrow. “I imagine you took care of that yourself. I was awake, you know, when you came in to see me the day you left.”

  God. Phineas dropped his head. “You sneaky bastard.”

  “Yes, well, my back was broken. I could be sneaky if I wished to.”

  “William, that—”

  “You joined the army to get yourself killed. Suicide by Bonaparte.”

  “I don’t want to talk about this. You need to know what I’ve found—”

  “I want to talk about this,” William said, only the slightest tremble in his voice giving away the fact that he might be less than calm, himself.

  Phineas blew out his breath, pushing to his feet again.

  “Don’t you dare leave this room.”

  “I’m not. I need a bloody drink, damn it all.” He strode over to the decanters on the writing desk and poured himself a whiskey. “How about you?”

  “The same.”

  He poured a second glass and carried both to the chair, handing one to his older brother before he seated himself again. At the time he thought he’d run so that William wouldn’t have to…set eyes on him ever again. The truth, though, was that he’d stayed away because he didn’t want to think about what he’d done. As if he’d ever thought about anything else. “What would you like me to say?” he asked quietly.

  “Why were you so angry? Before our race, I mean.”

  “That day, or in general?”

  “In general.”

  Phin blew out a breath. “Shortly before our father died, I overheard him talking with Lord Donnelly. They were discussing their daughters, or some such thing. Father and Mother had wanted a son and a daughter. I recall very distinctly that Father said, ‘We got what we wanted, with Phin in between. The boy’s a bit useless, but he serves as a spare, I suppose.’”

  “Phin, our parents loved you. They loved all of us.”

  “I know that. I was fourteen, and an idiot. But then they died, and every time I turned around I was living down to his expectations. It was…it was as though I’d fallen into some pit, and I couldn’t get out. After a time, I stopped trying. It was easier to dig down than up.” He sat forward, leaning his elbows onto his knees. “So you see, you’re stuck forever in that chair for no reason at all.” He took a long swallow of whiskey, savoring the burning sensation as it went down his throat. “Other than my general idiocy, that is.”

  William closed his eyes as he sipped at his own drink. Finally he opened them again. “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to hear that.”

  “But it’s no excuse at all!”

  “It’s an explanation.” His brother took another sip. “So what is this thing I need to hear?”

  Phineas blinked. “That’s all you wanted? For me to say that I had no reason for what I did?”

  “For you to say something.”

  He would dwell on that later. At this moment, he needed to be logical and composed, or William wouldn’t believe anything other than that his younger brother was inventing excitement for himself. He’d as much as said that before. “I found a couple of things,” he began, pulling the pair of maps from his pocket, “and I’d like your opinion of what they are.”

  He spread them out on the table, Smythe’s over Donnelly’s, and wheeled William over to where he could look at them. And then he told his brother about the conversation he’d had earlier with Alyse, though he left out how that had come about. He told his brother about Smythe owning the wolfhounds, and about his theories regarding the flood and the fire and the poisoned feed and about the monetary possibilities of locating a bath spa squarely between London and Brighton. And then about his suspicions regarding Donnelly’s pursuit of Beth.

  William didn’t interrupt him, but spent most of the time running his fingers over the lines of the map overlay. “You neglected to mention how you acquired this,” he finally said, looking up again.

  “That’s another story.”

  “Tell it.”

  “Damnation, William, I can’t tell you everything.”

  “Today, you can. Out with it.”

  Phineas cursed. Slamming his glass on the worktable, he strode to the nearest window and glared outside. “Fine. I stole it. Both of them.”

  “You what?”

  “I’m The Frenchman.”

  In the window’s reflection he could see William staring at his back, see the color drain from his brother’s already pale countenance.

  “You’re a highwayman.”

  “I didn’t know how else to get the information I needed without putting you and Beth at risk.”

  “So you put yourself at risk. I knew you would. Damnation.”

  Phin cocked an eyebrow at him. “You knew what?”

  “That if Beth wrote you about any of our troubles, you would throw yourself at it, full tilt.�
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  “So you did suspect something,” Phineas said. Beth had been correct. William had been worried about him.

  “I suspected the ill luck was being helped along. But a highwayman, Phin? For God’s sake, Smythe said he shot The Frenchman.”

  “He did. He’s not the dead shot he claims to be, however.”

  Behind him a glass crashed to the floor. “Good God.”

  “I’m not dead, if you’ll note,” Phineas said, turning around and squatting down to pick up the spilled glass.

  William looked at him. “Neither am I, if you’ll note. Let’s keep it that way for both of us, shall we?”

  Andrew returned to the library with two bowls of pea soup and half a loaf of warm, fresh bread. As they ate, Phin couldn’t help but note that his confessions of stupidity and the tale of the possible demise of Quence hadn’t shaken William, while the mention that he’d been shot had unnerved his older brother.

  Maybe there was hope for him after all. Maybe there was a chance for forgiveness.

  Chapter 23

  When Phin sent over a note asking if she cared to go riding with him, Alyse knew that Richard had read it. Her cousin didn’t even bother to disguise or explain his snooping. In fact, he was the one who handed her the missive.

  “Spend the afternoon with him,” her cousin said, joining Alyse and his mother in the morning room and opening his newspaper.

  “She’ll disgrace us, spending time with that madman,” Aunt Ernesta grumbled. “I don’t understand why things can’t be as they were again. It was much more pleasant and proper.”

  “Yes, Mother,” he said calmly, continuing to read.

  “I suppose we’ll ride for as long as he wants to,” Alyse answered, only half paying attention to the conversation as she read the note. “I’ll send him an answer.”

  “I already have.” The paper lowered for a moment. “On your behalf, of course.”

  It was just as well. She couldn’t say any of the things to Phin she wanted to in writing, anyway. And certainly not when she knew that other eyes would be reading her correspondence.