“It wasn’t the rolling about on the ground with you,” the Duke of Levonzy’s second son groaned. “It was the bottle of port I celebrated with after our return.”
“Well, then it’s your own fault, and I have no sympathy.”
This time he made it all the way to the breakfast room doorway before William appeared to block it with his chair. “Where are you off to?” his brother asked.
“He wants to go riding with Alyse,” Sullivan supplied before he could do so.
“Don’t you think she’s risked enough for you?” William asked, unmoving. “Richard doesn’t like you, if you haven’t noticed, and each time you speak with her, you’re making her life more difficult.”
“If you haven’t realized,” Phineas retorted, “we still need her help. The Frenchman’s gone, and I need to know what course Donnelly will take now.”
“And if you haven’t realized, she’s done enough. You can hardly expect her to take steps that would cause her to sacrifice the roof over her own head. Leave her be.”
For a moment Phineas glared at his older brother. William was absolutely correct, and yet he still couldn’t stop himself. He needed to see her. He couldn’t expect them to understand it, because he barely grasped it himself. All he knew was that she’d become vital to him. “No,” he snapped, pulling the arms of the wheeled chair forward until he could get past his brother and into the hallway.
As Phineas vanished, Bram lifted his head. “That, my friends,” he drawled, “is a fool.”
“A fool in love, I’d wager,” Sullivan agreed.
William looked from one to the other of them. Though he hadn’t precisely considered that his brother’s feelings might run that deep, they could well be correct. What Phin needed to realize, however, was that he couldn’t keep Alyse and his military career. Because over the past four years nearly everyone in Alyse’s life had left her. He couldn’t in good conscience allow Phin to do the same. Not for either of their sakes.
“How long do you stay?” he asked.
“I volunteered to remain until this mess is dealt with,” Lord Bramwell said, lifting his head again as a steaming cup of coffee appeared in front of him, “but I think Phin worries that if we’re seen, Donnelly might realize our ruse.”
Sullivan was nodding, as well. “We thought to leave this morning, before we’re spotted. But if you need us, William, for God’s sake send for us.”
“Does Phin know that you’re going?”
“He knows,” Bramwell supplied. “If he wasn’t so moon-eyed over that Miss Donnelly, he’d likely have remembered to say goodbye. And to thank us again for our heroics.”
Sullivan grinned. “I’d do it again just for the fun of it, thanks or not.”
“That’s because you’ve been domesticated, and your life is deathly dull.”
“Mm-hm. Are you coming to visit on your way back to London?”
“Of course I am. But I’m damned well eating breakfast first.”
Phineas stood in the foyer of Donnelly House, waiting for Alyse. Though he had no powers of mind-reading, he would say that the entire manor felt…tense this morning. And angry. And he imagined that that was due to Richard. He’d been bested. The question then became, what would he attempt next?
Donnelly entered the hallway, coming from the direction of his office. “Colonel Bromley,” he said, giving a stiff nod.
“My lord.”
“What brings you here this morning? Ah, Alyse, I imagine.”
“We’re going riding.”
“Yes, well, enjoy it.”
Phineas scowled, quickly covering the expression. “That sounded a bit ominous,” he ventured.
“Did it? I only meant that Alyse has turned out to be a miserable companion to my mother. I can’t very well afford to keep a useless relation living under my roof indefinitely. After all, while I believe in charity, this is becoming ridiculous. She’s been through five households now, you know.”
“Does she know that you’re going to send her away?”
“Not yet. Perhaps you’d like to tell her. I’m sure you’ll be more kind about it than I would be.”
“Bastard,” Phineas muttered.
Donnelly had the gall to smile at him. “Have a good morning,” he said, and vanished down another hallway.
Phineas wanted to go after him, to give the viscount the pummeling he deserved. Being a damned gentleman, knowing that other people’s reputations were tied up with his own, could be bloody tiresome.
“Ready?” Alyse said, as she appeared at the top of the stairs.
He shook himself. “Of course I am.”
She’d worn the gold riding habit again, along with a warm smile that he knew was meant for him alone. Knowing what Donnelly had planned for her, he felt abruptly predatory and protective all at the same time. He wanted her, all of her, and he didn’t want unhappiness or hopelessness or misery ever to touch her again.
Her smile faded. “Is something wrong?”
“No,” he lied, taking her hand as she reached the foot of the stairs. “With your white horse and my black one, I’m just hoping no one thinks us pretentious.”
She chuckled. “Eccentric, perhaps. Never pretentious.”
Outside, he slipped his hands around her waist and lifted her into the sidesaddle. Every time he touched her, letting her go again became more and more difficult. Did she feel the same way? He’d certainly never been in love before, but he couldn’t imagine that she didn’t feel toward him at least part of what he felt for her.
As they left the drive, the groom trailing behind them, he belatedly remembered that Sullivan had said he and Bram would be leaving this morning. He’d been so occupied with thoughts of seeing Alyse again that he’d completely forgotten. Damnation.
Alyse glanced over her shoulder. “Can you tell me who your assistants were last night?” she asked in a low voice.
He nodded. “Two very good friends of mine. Sullivan Waring and Lord Bram Johns. We served together.”
“Lord Bram Johns?” she repeated. “I’ve danced with him.”
A stab of jealousy went through him. Phineas pushed it back down. Of course they’d danced. Alyse had spent nearly three Seasons as the toast of London, and Bram had a fine eye for beauty.
For half an hour they chatted about nothing in particular. He needed to ask some questions, but they could wait a short time. If it was selfish to want to spend time with her for no reason at all, then so be it. And once he returned to current events, he would have to tell her what Donnelly planned for her future.
“It worked, I assume?” he finally asked, when he couldn’t put it off any longer. “Our ploy?”
“Yes. Richard thinks you must have tricked them, but he seems to know that he’ll never prove anything. He’s very out of sorts today.”
“So I assumed.”
Brown eyes met his. “Did you speak with him?”
Damnation. As Donnelly had said, he would be kinder about it than her cousin would. Not that kindness would alter the circumstances. Phineas took a deep breath. He would rather face down a line of French cannon, but it had to be done. “He told me that he plans to send you away,” he said quietly.
Her expression closed down. Alyse opened her mouth, then shut it again. “I can’t say I’m surprised,” she ventured after a moment, her voice quavering. A tear ran down one cheek.
“Alyse.”
“It’s silly, I know,” she continued, another tear, then a pair of them, following the first, “since I don’t even like Richard or Aunt Ernesta. But at least I got to come back here. I got to…” She cleared her throat.
“I love you.”
He wasn’t certain he’d spoken aloud, except for the sudden surprise in her eyes. “Ph…Phin, you don’t have to feel guilty about this. I knew what might happen.”
Reaching over, he caught hold of Snowbird’s bridle and pulled both horses to a stop. Still not speaking, barely able to think, his heart roared so loudly, he kicked ou
t of his stirrups and jumped to the ground. “You, stay here,” he ordered the groom as he walked around to Alyse’s side and lifted her down. “You, walk with me.”
She pulled against his hand. “Phin.”
“I said, come with me.” He pulled harder until she gave in and walked off the path with him. They continued on a short distance until he found a small glade carpeted with tiny white flowers. “No,” he said, turning her to face him, “I did this to you, and I’m going to make it right.”
“And how are you going to do that? Convince Richard to see the error of his ways?”
“Marry me.”
That got her attention. She stared at him, openmouthed, for several hard beats of her heart before she stepped backward to sit down heavily on an overturned tree trunk.
He didn’t know whether that reaction boded well or ill. “Well?” he prompted.
“You…you can’t just do that.”
“I can’t ask you to marry me? I beg to differ.”
“You just said that my predicament was your fault, and then in the next breath you ask me to marry you,” she exclaimed. “It’s noble, I suppose, but I certainly don’t want you to be leg-shackled to me because you feel sorry for me. That’s awful. It’s the worst thing I can imagine. Especially when we both know that you mean to ride off to war again.”
“Oh, well, thank you very much,” he snapped, turning his back and striding to the edge of the glade and back, setting aside the abrupt…dismay at the thought of being separated from her again. “How am I supposed to help you, then?” he asked, stalking back.
“I don’t know. I don’t actually need your help. I have the twenty-five hundred pounds, together with the money I’ve been stealing from Aunt Ernesta. I—”
“What?” he interrupted, unexpected humor touching him.
“Whenever she sent me on an errand I kept some money back. I never meant to stay with them forever.”
“Then why are you so upset at the idea of leaving now?”
“Why do you think?” she shot back. “I’ll miss East Sussex.”
“Ah.” He watched her twisting her hands in her lap. “Would you marry me if Richard gave you all the money he owes you?”
She scowled. “What does one have to do with the other?”
“I don’t know!” he shouted back. “I’m confused now!”
“Don’t yell at me!”
“I’m not!” He paced again. “For God’s sake, Alyse, I said that I love you, and now suddenly you’re telling me that it’s guilt and not love, and that you don’t need me, and how the devil am I supposed to know what to do or say now?”
“Well, to begin with, you don’t love me.”
He faced her again. “I do love you.”
“No, you don’t. I’m a friendly face after ten years.”
“There are quite a few people I haven’t seen for ten years, and I haven’t gone about telling all of them that I love them. Nor have I slipped into their bedchambers at night.”
She blushed. “We have a…connection. I’ll grant you that. But—”
“But what? Did you know that before I left I’d begun riding past your window at night? And not just because I wanted to talk with you.”
“I…” She cleared her throat. “You’re a soldier, Phin. You left your own family ten years ago, and they were hurt. I saw it. I was hurt, too, but…that doesn’t signify. I don’t—I can’t stand the thought of being left again. And especially not by you.”
Phin knelt on the ground in front of her. “So you want me—or someone—for company. Like a dog.”
“No! No, of course not.”
“Then what is it, Alyse?”
More tears coursed down her soft cheeks. He hated the idea that he was making her cry, but he needed some damned answers. Any answers.
“Fine.” She slammed her palm down on one thigh. “I don’t want to be in love with you. I know you’re going to hurt me, that you’re going to leave again, and I can’t help myself. I can’t even…think of anything but you, and now you’ve asked me to marry you, and it’s not even for the right reasons, and—”
He leaned up and kissed her. It was impossible not to. Her lips tasted of salt tears, and he kissed her again and again until her arms swept around his shoulders and she had lowered herself off the log and onto his knees, pressing herself against him. “We are good together,” he murmured against her mouth. “You bring out the best in me.”
“Phin, stop.”
“No.” He kissed her again.
“Phin, stop.”
“No. I am n—”
“Look!”
Dazed, he lifted his face from hers. Her gaze was over his shoulder, and he turned around, half expecting to see Donnelly and his cronies bearing down on them, pistols at the ready. Instead, he saw a dark cloud above the trees. No, not a cloud. Smoke. Rising from the direction of Quence.
“God,” he muttered, standing and pulling Alyse to her feet. “Come on.”
They ran back to the horses. His heart seemed to have become a cold, frozen lump in his chest, and he couldn’t breathe as he helped her into her saddle and then swung up onto Ajax.
“Stay with her,” he barked at the groom, and sent Ajax into a dead run toward home.
The black pounded toward Quence, all sleek, lean power. Phineas bent forward along Ajax’s neck, cutting the wind and urging him to go faster still. Beth and William were both home. Beth could get out, but he knew that she wouldn’t leave her brother. With all his heart he prayed that Sully and Bram hadn’t yet gone, that he and Alyse weren’t the only ones to have seen the smoke, that the small household had found buckets and water and knew what to do.
As he topped the meadow and flew up the low rise, the smoke hung black and thick and heavy over the front of the house. A trio of horses crossed the corner of his vision, galloping down the main road and away from Quence. Donnelly and his friends.
This had been no accident, then. Black anger erupted in his chest, but he shoved it back down. Later. They would pay for this later. First he needed to know that his family was safe.
From the drive he could see the smoke billowing through half a dozen windows on the ground floor at the front of the house. The main door was closed. Warner and Tom and a few others ran back and forth like ants, throwing bucketfuls of water at the broken front windows. He couldn’t see anyone else through the haze of smoke.
Phineas jumped down from Ajax before the horse had even come to a stop. “Beth!” he bellowed, running for the front door. “William!” Coughing, he shoved on the door handle. It didn’t budge.
“Phin!” Beth screamed from the far side of the door. “We can’t get out!”
“Is it locked?” he yelled back.
“Phin!” Sullivan’s deeper voice bellowed. “They nailed the doors shut!”
Backing up and waving his hands to try to clear the smoke, Phineas looked at the door. Right at the top someone had bolted a thick block of lumber over both doors. Not terribly noticeable to anyone coming across the wreckage later, but effective. Reaching up, he dug his fingers beneath it and pulled. It creaked, but he couldn’t get enough leverage to pry it free.
“Sully,” he yelled, “can Ajax kick?”
“Yes!”
Phineas ran to the black, who stood snorting nervously, shifting away from the house. He swung back into the saddle and urged the big fellow to the front steps. “Let’s go, boy,” he said, stifling another cough and trying to keep his voice calm.
With a whinny, Ajax clopped up the half dozen shallow steps to stand on the front portico. Phineas turned him so he faced away from the door.
“Stand back!” he called, then lifted up on the stirrups and swatted Ajax on the back haunch. “Hup,” he commanded, thankful that he knew how Sullivan preferred to train his animals. “Hup, Ajax!”
Both back legs kicked backward with enough strength to disembowel a lion. The doors splintered top to bottom.
“Again, Ajax. Hup!”
The black kicked again. The left-hand door shoved inward, hanging off of the bottom hinge. Swiftly Phin urged Ajax back onto the drive and then swung off him again. As he reached the half-broken-in door, it ripped backward. Sullivan appeared in its place, Bram at his shoulder.
“Where’s William?” Phineas asked, reaching in to grab Beth’s arm and pulling her through the door’s wreckage and onto the portico. “Go stand with Ajax,” he ordered her.
“Back here,” his brother called, coughing.
“Get him out!” Beth screamed, her voice shaking.
Together he and Bram shoved the second door out of the way, and he pushed inside. “Is everyone down here?” he asked, ducking beneath the thick smoke billowing from both the morning room and the front sitting room.
“I did a quick check,” Bram said, coughing, his usual lazy drawl missing. “Didn’t see anyone else.”
Sullivan was helping the servants through the door, ordering them to get buckets and join the growing line of people dumping water through the windows. “I got the kitchen staff,” he choked, “when I checked the back door. They nailed it closed, as well.”
William, with Andrews as always standing behind him, sat a few feet behind them in the foyer. “You’re next,” Phineas said.
“My people first.”
“No.” Leaning down, Phineas pulled his brother into his arms and lifted him out of the chair. “Bring it,” he instructed Andrews, and made his way through the milling servants to the door. He stepped through the mess and down the front steps.
A few feet away Alyse stood holding a full bucket of water. “Don’t throw it at the wall!” she yelled, “get the water into the rooms!”
“Here, sir.” Andrews set the chair down, and Phineas lowered William into it.
“Are you unhurt?” he panted, grasping his brother’s shoulder.
“Just get everyone out.”
“I will.”
He charged back into the house, ripping the curtains off the foyer window and ducking into the morning room. With the lowering smoke he could barely see, but he managed to smother the fire out of the floorboards in one corner. Then he went to work throwing burning pieces of furniture through the shattered windows, pulling down flaming curtains, grabbing up buckets, and throwing water onto the pieces he couldn’t move. Peripherally he noted that Bram was in there with him, as well, while through the foyer in the sitting room he could hear Sullivan and Gordon yelling.
Before the Scandal Page 28