Before the Scandal

by Suzanne Enoch

  “God, Bram, it’s seven o’clock in the morning,” Sullivan said, taking a seat at the table. “What do you need, Phin?”

  “The sun hasn’t risen,” Bram returned. “It is therefore still last night. And I’ve been riding for the past six hours.” He took a glass and the bottle from Digby and opened it.

  “I’m in a bit of a spot.” Phineas sat back in his chair again. “And so, my friends, I need you to be highwaymen.”

  Sullivan looked at him. “Beg pardon?”

  Bram sank into a chair, toasting the room in general before he took a long swallow of whiskey. “Excellent. When do we begin?”

  After an hour of discussion Sullivan was in agreement with some reservations, William was angry that others were going to take chances that he couldn’t physically undertake himself, and Bram was wondering why they had to wait until tomorrow evening to begin. Phineas continued running possible scenarios through his mind—success or failure, it rested on his shoulders. And if anyone was hurt, that would be his fault, as well.

  “William,” Beth’s voice came, as she pushed open the breakfast room door, “is it true that we have guests? I—” She stopped dead, then broke into a bright, excited smile. “Lord Bram! Sullivan! My goodness! Phin said you wouldn’t be coming to visit him.”

  Sullivan made his way over to Elizabeth. “I’m here to visit you,” he said with a smile, taking her fingers. “Didn’t even know Phin was home.”

  Bram, on the other hand, looked as though he wanted to sink beneath the table. Phineas stifled a grin. The only thing in the world that Bram feared, it seemed, was the seventeen-year-old sister of a friend. In particular one who’d been mooning over him since his return from the Peninsula.

  “The thing is, Beth,” Phineas said, thumping Bram in the calf with his boot before he stood, “Bram’s in hiding from his father.”

  “I won’t tell a soul that you’re here,” she agreed. “But you must let me take you on a tour of the gardens.”

  Slowly Bram pushed to his feet. “I would be delighted,” he muttered, not looking the least bit delighted.

  “Take Jenny with you,” William stated.

  “William, why do—”

  “Take Jenny.”

  Beth stomped one foot. “Oh, very well. I’ll go fetch her.” With a last glare at her oldest brother, she left the room to go find her maid.

  “I came here to erase a few of the marks the devil has against me,” Bram said darkly. “Not to help him begin a new chapter.”

  “I don’t want her to know yet that we suspect Richard in all of this,” Phineas said. “She’s not very proficient at concealing her feelings.”

  “So I’ve noticed. Let Sullivan go touring with her. He’s married. Practically gelded.”

  “Allow me to disagree,” Sullivan commented with an amused scowl. “And I need to talk to Phin.”

  “Damnation.”

  William cleared his throat. “If you’ll push, I’ll join you in the garden.”

  “God, yes.”

  Phineas watched the two of them out the door. Bram might have thought William was being generous, but it likely had more to do with Bram’s reputation and a very impressionable young lady. At least with Bram about, Richard’s ultimate fate would trouble Elizabeth less.

  “So you’re keeping Beth out of this.”

  “As far as possible.”

  “But you’ve got Miss Donnelly in it up to her neck.”

  Phineas scowled. “I didn’t have any choice.”

  Sullivan grinned. “Don’t bite my head off. Bram said she got into some scandal or other a few years ago.”

  “And when did you two have this conversation?”

  “Your note mentioned Donnelly House, and we spent most of the night on horseback getting here.” Sulivan blew out his breath. “And you know Bram. If there’s gossip, he’s heard it.”

  “Apologies, then. It’s just…she’s been put in an untenable position here, and it’s my fault.”

  He wanted to say more, to somehow explain how much Alyse had always meant to him even when he hadn’t realized it. And how important she’d become to everything. Considering that he’d turned her into a spy against her own family and that he’d put her present well-being and her future at risk, calling himself in love didn’t quite have the…depth to it that he felt.

  Sully cleared his throat. “At least you’ve found a use for Ajax.”

  Phineas snorted. “Yes. He helped me launch my criminal career. I couldn’t have done it without him.”

  “Having some…familiarity with legality’s backside, Phin, all I can say is for God’s sake be careful. You have a family, and they’ll pay the price if you get caught.”

  “I know that. Why do you think I sent for the two of you?”

  “About that. You know we’d both do anything for you, b—”

  “As I would for you,” Phineas interrupted, beginning to fear a retreat. Sullivan was newly married, though, and if he wanted to stay clear of this mess, no one would blame him.

  “I know,” Sullivan said, lowering his voice further. “Just keep an eye on Bram. He plays at wearing darkness, but lately those clothes seem to be fitting him rather comfortably.”

  He nodded. “Then I’ll be thankful that he’s terrified of Beth.”

  The breakfast room door burst open. “Captain Waring!” Gordon burst out, striding into the room. “By all th’ holy saints!”

  Sullivan grinned. “Sergeant Gordon. Still trying to keep Phin out of trouble, I see.”

  “Aye, and quite a task it’s been.”

  “Gordon, I believe I’ve mentioned something about knocking. And decorum.”

  “Aye, aye, but it’s Captain Waring! The most gifted soul on a horse since Hector himself.”

  “Yes, he has a stable in Sussex, breeding them. You know this.”

  “I was hopin’ when we arrived here that we’d come to visit ye, but with all the trouble and the colonel moonin’ after the Donnelly girl, there’s—”

  “Sergeant!” Phineas snapped.

  The Scotsman reddened. “Aye. No gossip, either. I just come to tell ye that Saffron is saddled and ready for ye.” Turning crisply on his heel, he marched out of the room.

  “‘Mooning’?” Sullivan said distinctly.

  “I’ve known Alyse her entire life. We’re friends.”

  “Mm-hm. Are you certain there isn’t something more you’d care to tell me?”

  Phin looked at him for a moment. “Not before I tell her.” Hell, he hadn’t even figured it out himself.

  “Fair enough. Why don’t you show me those maps, and then we’ll need to go over the local terrain to pick our point of attack.”

  Relieved at the change of subject, Phineas gestured for Sullivan to precede him out the door. They had a great deal to accomplish, and not much time to do it.

  Even though she’d been waiting for it, Alyse couldn’t help the stutter of her heart when one of the grooms, hat in hand, shuffled into the morning room shortly after breakfast. It had been two days since she’d seen Phin. She’d even left her windows unlatched and her door unlocked in case he came calling, but he hadn’t made an appearance. The Roesglen party was this evening. And she was very, very worried.

  “My lord,” the groom said, staying close behind Saunders. “I beg your pardon, but you said you wished to be informed of any rumors about The Frenchman.”

  Richard snapped upright from the correspondence he’d been bent over. “What have you heard?”

  “Peter Adams came by in his hay cart this morning, and he said that The Frenchman rode through Lewes last night, tossing coins onto the street. I know Lord Charles said he killed him, but Peter Jones swears it was him. Says he gave out near fifty quid.”

  “And did no one attempt to stop this coin-throwing highwayman?” Richard asked, scowling and clearly furious.

  “There was a handful of soldiers in town on leave, but they couldn’t catch that black monster he rides. They say it breath
es fire and that The Frenchman’s eyes glow red in the dark.”

  “That is nonsense. Get back to work. Saunders, give the boy a shilling for his troubles.”

  The groom grinned. “Thank you, my lord.”

  “Do you hear that?” Aunt Ernesta squawked. “That awful man is trying to turn himself into some sort of Robin Hood.”

  “It won’t last, Mother. He’s breaking the law, and he will be stopped.”

  Alyse noted that he said “stopped” rather than “arrested.” None of the men had said anything directly, and she supposed they might very well think her stupid enough not to have realized, but she knew precisely what they meant to do to The Frenchman the moment they had the opportunity. They would kill him. Phin. Tonight.

  She’d carefully hidden away her twenty-five hundred pounds in a place that Richard would never think to look. After all, she’d grown up in this house, and she hadn’t told him everything about it. He’d promised her another seventy-five hundred pounds, but that prospect was beginning to look less and less promising. Two days ago he’d only had a relatively small amount of ready blunt to hand. And he hadn’t gone to see any bankers or accountants since then, even though he meant to make full use tonight of the information she’d given him.

  At the moment, his apparent willingness to cheat her actually made her feel a bit better. He wasn’t a hero, trying to stop a villain. He was a villain, willing to do whatever was necessary to get what he wanted. And lying to his own cousin, who depended on him for food and clothing and shelter, didn’t even cause him to blink.

  “Do we dare go to Roesglen tonight?” her aunt continued with a shudder. “I have no wish to be stopped and robbed again.”

  “We are going tonight. Never fear; I mean to take precautions.”

  “I certainly hope so.” She looked over at Alyse. “And I suppose you are going riding about the countryside again, showing off your borrowed clothes?”

  “Alyse will be staying in today,” her cousin answered, returning to his paperwork.

  Of course she would be; Richard had barely let her out of his sight since the library. He wouldn’t want to risk her warning Phin that a trap was being set for him. She turned the page of the book she’d deliberately chosen to read in her aunt’s presence. Her aunt hated the sight of young women reading. It took every bit of self-control she possessed to keep from smiling. Because Richard’s trap wasn’t going to go as he expected. Not at all.

  The only frustration was that she didn’t know precisely what Phin did have planned. She understood why he hadn’t wanted to tell her, but she also had a large suspicion that it would involve him risking his life yet again. And with the way she was beginning to feel about their…partnership, she supposed it was, the only thing worse than him returning to the war would be him dying.

  Both the sun and every clock in the house seemed determined to crawl forward as slowly as possible. As the day progressed, Alyse for once wouldn’t have minded having some mending to do; at least it would keep her hands occupied. Her mind flitted about like a hummingbird, refusing to light on any one subject.

  Finally the sky began to darken and she could justify going upstairs to change into her evening gown. Then she had to sit through dinner and listen to her aunt lamenting their chances of remaining alive long enough for them to reach Roesglen. The woman was a small-minded tyrant, but at least she didn’t seem to know anything of her son’s dealings. It wasn’t quite enough to make Alyse look on her kindly, but it did save her aunt from having ill wishes sent in her direction every few minutes.

  “You look very fine this evening,” Richard commented as he handed her into his carriage. “Green becomes you.”

  “Thank you.”

  He tugged on her hand, keeping her from stepping up. “If you say anything to him that looks the least bit suspicious, Alyse, you will regret it.”

  “What would I say to him, Richard? That I agreed to take ten thousand pounds if he would kindly hand himself over to the authorities?”

  “I don’t know what you would say. But I do know that you didn’t pin up your hair for me. You’ve already chosen the money, my dear. And he is a very poor risk.”

  She pulled her hand free. “I told you what I know, Richard. Please don’t threaten me again.”

  As they turned up the long drive twenty minutes later, every window at Roesglen seemed ablaze with light. Apparently the marquis’ embarrassment at the hands of The Frenchman wasn’t enough to keep him from throwing his doors wide open for his neighbors. Or perhaps he’d been so extravagant because he wanted his fellows to think of his ballroom rather than his misdeeds.

  Alyse looked swiftly about for the Quence carriage, but she couldn’t distinguish it amid the crush of vehicles crowding the top of the drive. “Heavens,” Aunt Ernesta said, clutching on to her arm, “every member of the nobility in all of East Sussex must be here tonight.”

  “Lord Roesglen’s parties are famous,” she supplied. “He seems to outdo himself every subsequent year.”

  “And it’s been several years since you’ve attended, hasn’t it?” her cousin noted, as they joined the crush waiting to get through the front doorway.

  He knew quite well that it had been over four years. “Yes,” she returned. “So I have no idea what to expect.”

  “Expect a dance with me,” Richard said, smiling as he handed their invitation over to the expressionless butler. “And I imagine Charles and Anthony will wish a turn or two about the floor with you, as well. You do look very nice this evening.”

  Was that part of their plan, to keep her surrounded by his cronies so that she had no chance to see Phin, much less dance with him? That might be the wiser course of action for her to take, but her heart said otherwise. Her heart wanted a waltz with Phin.

  And then there he was, chatting with some of the other guests. For a second her breath caught. She’d half expected him to walk into Roesglen’s ballroom dressed as The Frenchman, sporting his old-fashioned tricorne hat and brandishing pistols. Instead he wore a dark gray jacket and black breeches, with a cream-colored waistcoat and his polished black Hessian boots. He looked…magnificent. And from the glances he received from the other ladies in the room, both single and married, it was clear she wasn’t the only one to think so.

  His gaze roamed the room as he spoke, and then those hazel eyes found her. Warmth spiraled through her as he immediately excused himself and crossed the room to her side. “Alyse,” he said with a smile, taking her hand and brushing her knuckles with his lips, “you teach the torches to burn bright.”

  “Ah, we’re stealing from Shakespeare now, are we?” Richard said coolly, offering his hand.

  Phin shrugged as he shook hands. “The man’s dead. I don’t think he minds.”

  Goodness. Alyse felt as though she were watching a duel right there in the middle of the ballroom. Next they would draw daggers or rapiers or something. “Did you come with William and Beth?” she asked, deliberately stepping between the two men.

  Taking a quick breath, Phin smiled. “I did. Once you grant me a waltz, I’ll take you over to see them.”

  “I—”

  “I’m afraid the two waltzes are spoken for,” Richard broke in. “They belong to myself and Lord Anthony.”

  “Well, this is a dilemma. A country dance or a quadrille, Alyse? Or perhaps a cotillion.”

  She smiled. “A country dance, I think. If you promise not to trounce on my feet.”

  “I make no promises I can’t keep.” He drew her hand over his arm. “My brother and sister are this way.”

  As soon as they set off through the crowd, Richard and Aunt Ernesta in tow, Alyse leaned a little toward Phin. “I don’t know what they’re planning, but it’s—”

  “No need to apologize for the waltz,” he interrupted. “I’m certain I can find a partner or two with whom to amuse myself.”

  He sounded so…callous that for a bare moment she felt taken aback. When he glanced down at her, though, she saw nothing
but affection and secrets in his gaze. Secrets for her. Alyse squared her shoulders. Very well. She’d said she would trust him, and so she would.

  “If you get killed,” she whispered, as he released her hand, “I am going to be very angry with you.”

  Phin squeezed her fingers for a heartbeat. “So will I be.”

  Chapter 25

  If Richard felt it necessary to keep Alyse away from him, Phineas decided, then he would not risk raising her cousin’s suspicions any further than they already were. Instead he joined in the conversation, adding a pointed jab in Richard’s direction whenever he could manage it. He wanted the bastard’s attention on him. Not on Alyse, and not on Beth or William.

  A great deal of the evening’s talk centered around The Frenchman. The women seemed to find him frightening but dashing, and surprisingly generous with the local townsfolk. The men, on the other hand, all had plans to shoot him between the eyes and otherwise teach him the perils of stopping the coach of an Englishman.

  The main benefit of everyone’s increased caution was that it had become more difficult for anyone to unleash killer dogs or break open floodgates. That was something, but he didn’t want a mere delay in the attacks. He intended to put a stop to them.

  The Frenchman had helped him figure out Lord Donnelly’s game, and now The Frenchman would, he hoped, serve to rattle all the players once more—and ideally in the process would gain him the missing pieces of information he still needed. He wrote his name beside the dance of Alyse’s choice on her dance card, and then excused himself. The farther he stayed from her tonight, the better. And besides, he wanted to keep an eye on Smythe and Ellerby.

  Before he could retreat more than a few feet, however, Beth caught his arm. “You are going to dance with me this evening, aren’t you?” she asked.

  “I thought you were angry with me.”

  “I am. I was. But I still wish to dance with you.”

  Grinning, he swooped an arm around her shoulders. “Does this have anything to do with my visiting friends?” he whispered.