Miles leaned forward and spoke softly in her ear. His breath tickled her neck sending more tremors of feeling along her nerves.
“You seem a little distracted, Miss Lister,” he said. “Are you quite well?”
Laura looked up. “You are very flushed, Alice,” she said. “Are you developing a fever?”
Alice saw a faint smile curve Miles’s firm lips.
“Yes!” she said. “No. I do not know.”
“You sound confused,” Miles said soothingly.
“I am quite well,” Alice said. With inexpressible relief she saw that they were turning into the gate at Spring House. She had spent the entire journey aware of nothing other than the touch of Miles’s hand on hers. Tiny shivers still seemed to be tiptoeing over her skin as she looked at him and he returned the gaze with a very direct look of his own. She could see in his eyes how much he wanted her. She could feel the tension tight in him, held under absolute control. She thought of their quarrel and how it did not seem to make an ounce of difference as to whether she wanted him in her bed or not and she felt helpless and eager and wanton and wicked.
As soon as the carriage rolled onto the sweep there was a shout, and both Marigold and Jim the footman ran out to greet them. Alice jumped and freed herself from Miles’s grip. Marigold was twisting her hands in her apron and looked as though she wanted to cry.
“Miss Alice!” She looked stricken.
“What is it, Marigold?” Alice asked. She was aware of Miles standing tense and watchful at her shoulder. “What has happened?”
“It’s Miss Lydia!” Marigold wailed. “She has run away!”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
T HEY SEARCHED throughout the long, cold day, but found no trace of Lydia or Tom Fortune. As the afternoon progressed, the snow returned and the temperature fell. It was going to be a cold night. Lady Vickery huddled before the fire and declared that they would find Lydia frozen to death by the morning. Mrs. Lister made endless cups of tea and read the leaves, bemoaning the fact that all the omens were bad ones. Celia Vickery seemed to have vanished, and Philip sat moodily in a corner carving a stick and trying to look as though he was not too disappointed that his mother had banned him from accompanying the search parties.
“I blame myself,” Laura said to Alice that afternoon as they worked side by side in the kitchen of the Old Palace to help the servants prepare refreshment for the search parties. “Lydia must have been afraid that I would bully her into telling the truth about Tom’s whereabouts.” She shook her head. “I can only hope he is looking after her. Poor Lydia-she is so alone.”
“I had heard the news that the Duke and Duchess of Cole refused to spare any staff for the search,” Alice said. She had been disgusted at their attitude. “They said that their servants had better things to do with their time!”
Miles came in. He was wearing a greatcoat dusted with snow and looked moody and bad-tempered. Alice had barely spoken to him since their quarrel that morning, but now, despite his impatient expression, she thought she sensed a softening in him.
“I should have predicted that this would happen,” he said to her as he took the mug of hot chocolate she proffered. “Last night we both thought that Miss Cole had slipped out to meet Tom Fortune. I should have realized that her next step would be to run away to him.” His gaze dwelled on Alice’s face. “I was distracted,” he said. “It was a great mistake to move into Spring House to keep an eye on you, Alice. It seems I can see nothing else.” His lips twitched and she thought he was almost smiling. “Try not to look so pleased,” he added dryly.
“I thought,” Alice said, taking advantage of the fact that he appeared to be in a better mood, “that you might like to take Philip with you when you go back out to search. He is desperate to be of use and I am sure he would be able to help-”
She stopped at the sight of Miles’s black frown. “Philip is more likely to be a hindrance than a help,” Miles said shortly. “It would be better for him to stay here with Mama. She will only fret all the more otherwise.”
Alice turned away and crashed a few pans with unnecessary force onto the stove. Some soup slopped onto the floor. Fuming silently, she reflected that Miles really was utterly impossible.
“Alice,” Miles said, a tiny hint of humor in his voice.
Alice ignored him. She had heard the tone of his voice and her pulse had started to race with renewed hope, but she was not going to give Miles the satisfaction of dictating their conversation. She took the ham pie down from the larder shelf and sliced it with quick, vicious chops of the knife.
“Very wifely,” Miles commented.
“I have nothing to say to you, Miles,” Alice said. “You are a horrid, bad tempered, unkind and mean-spirited person and I was quite wrong in thinking that there was an ounce of goodness in you.”
“I told you I had absolutely no saving graces,” Miles said. “You should have listened to me. I never lie to you.”
“Clearly,” Alice said. She slapped a dish of potted venison and some butter down on the table. “Would you care for me to slice some bread for you?” she inquired coldly.
“No, thank you,” Miles said. “You would probably have my hand off.” He sighed heavily. “Oh, very well. Philip can come with me.” He shot her a look. “I suppose you are pleased with yourself now?”
“Not at all,” Alice said airily, smothering her smile. “I will go and fetch him for you.”
Miles grabbed her arm. “I’ll take a kiss first. It’s the least you can do by way of payment.”
“In front of your cousin?” Alice demanded a little breathlessly.
“She can look the other way, can’t you, Laura?” Miles said. “After all, we are betrothed so I am entirely within my rights.”
“I’ll go and fetch Philip,” Laura said, drying her hands on her apron. “How long do you need?”
As the door closed behind her, Miles put his hands on Alice’s shoulders.
“May I?” he said softly.
He had not asked before-he had simply taken-and somehow it seemed to make a huge difference. Alice’s heart fluttered.
“You may,” she whispered.
Miles smiled at her again then, and Alice felt a wash of emotion so strong that for a moment she trembled. Then he bent his head and kissed her. It was gentle and sweet, turning into a slow burning. Different. The trembling feeling inside her blossomed and intensified. She slid her arms about his neck and drew him closer, feeling the care with which he held her, as though she were infinitely precious.
There was a clatter as Laura made a rather ostentatious reentry into the kitchen, and they drew apart. Miles looked down at her. There was a baffled look in his eyes, as though he were trying to decipher a particularly complex conundrum. After a moment Alice saw him shake his head slightly. He shot her another look and cleared his throat.
“I know you can shoot straight, Laura,” he said, “so if anyone tries to hurt Alice whilst I am away-”
“I’ll take good care of her,” Laura said, beaming.
Miles nodded again, unsmiling, beckoned to Philip and walked out without another word.
“That was nicely done,” Laura commented when Miles and Philip had gone out and Alice, pink-faced and rather flustered, had returned to stirring the soup. “Philip is very happy. I didn’t think you’d pull it off, Alice, I confess it. Although one rarely sees it, Miles can have the devil of a temper and he can be as stubborn as a mule into the bargain.”
“I know,” Alice said feelingly.
Laura laid down her chopping knife and came to rest against the table at Alice’s side. “I admit that when he started to pay court to you last year I was afraid he would hurt you badly,” she said.
“He did,” Alice said briefly.
“I never thought that he would fall in love with you,” Laura said. She laughed at Alice’s expression of incredulity. “Don’t you see it, Alice? He took Philip with him to please you, as much as for the boy’s sake. He did it because he wa
nts your good opinion.”
Alice felt a rush of hope and tried to quell it. “Miles is not the sort of man to fall in love,” she said. She wanted to believe Laura but she knew Miles too well now. It seemed impossible. “He pushes me away at every turn,” she said. “He’s not like Dexter,” she added in a rush. “Miles doesn’t want to care for anyone. He has told me that all he wants is my money.”
“He might not want to care for you,” Laura said dryly, “but he has no choice. Dexter struggled pretty hard,” she added with a smile. “It takes them a while sometimes. But what about you?” She looked closely at her friend. “If Miles has hurt you once you might not wish to give him that chance again.”
“I can’t help it,” Alice said simply. She put her hands up to her burning cheeks in a helpless gesture. “I can’t help my feelings for him, Laura. I wish I could, but you know what I am like. I am a very simple person-”
“There is no artifice in you,” Laura said, giving her a hug, “and that is a good thing.”
“What did Miles mean when he said that you could shoot straight?” Alice asked curiously.
Laura sighed. “I was not always five months pregnant and as sick as a cushion.” She looked at Alice. “Do you remember the tales of the Glory Girls, Alice, the band of highwaywomen who rode the dales a few years ago?”
“Of course!” Alice said, her eyes lighting up. The Glory Girls had been heroines to her and to many others of the poor and dispossessed. “They took from the rich to right the injustices of society-” Her voice dwindled as she looked at Laura. “No!” she said, her eyes widening to their furthest extent. “You could not have been!”
“I was,” Laura said.
“But…” Alice’s mind whirled. “You were a duchess! I mean…No, it is impossible. Does Dexter know?”
Laura smiled. “He found out last year.”
“Oh,” Alice said. “Oh!” she said again in a different tone, remembering Laura and Dexter’s rather stormy courtship.
“Yes,” Laura said, “he was not pleased.”
“I imagine not,” Alice said, “since he is one of the Guardians.”
Laura pulled a face. “Dexter can be very stuffy.”
“In a most attractive sort of way,” Alice said, smiling.
“But the point,” Laura said, blushing a little, “is that it was Miles who helped me to gain a pardon from the Home Secretary, Alice. I’ll tell you all about it in a moment, but it was Miles who saved me. If it comes to that,” she added with a laugh, “it was Miles who told Dexter to marry me only if he could love me with all his heart and it was Miles who brought gifts for Hattie from London even when he could not afford it, and Miles who has been so anxious to protect you and is even now taking his brother out with him because he wants, deep down, for Philip to be happy…” She stopped and looked at Alice expectantly. “Isn’t it?”
Alice wiped her hands on her apron. “I do not know,” she said. “I wish I could believe you, Laura. I wish I could believe that Miles cares for anyone other than himself, but the truth is that he is coercing me into marriage for my money, and unless I have a free choice I cannot love him the way that my heart demands.” She saw Laura’s shocked expression and said quickly, “Do not look so appalled. He has not hurt me-”
“Thank God,” Laura said, recovering, “or I would have to put a bullet through him!”
“It is tempting to ask you to do so,” Alice said, laughing. She sobered. “The truth is that I want Miles to care for me but I am not sure he can. Something happened to him, Laura, that drove all the tenderness and love out of him, and he will not tell me what that is.”
“He will,” Laura said. “He will tell you when the time is right. Have faith.”
Dexter and Nat Waterhouse came into the kitchen then with Lowell and a group of his farmworkers and there was no more chance of conversation, but Alice nurtured the small spark of hope that Laura had lit inside her. Perhaps Laura was right, she thought, and Miles would tell her the whole truth in his own good time. For if he did not-and if he could not release her to make her choices freely-her love for him could come to nothing.
MILES WAS STILL WONDERING what the hell had happened as he rode out of the stable yard with his brother. He had been furious with himself for taking his eye off the wider picture and not realizing that Lydia would run to Tom. The trouble, he realized now, was that he had been utterly consumed by his anxieties for Alice. His every waking thought centered on her. He had compromised his own efficiency because he could not see beyond the need to protect her. Even now he was wishing that he were back in the house with Alice in his arms, wishing that he could lose himself in her and find that elusive peace that only she seemed able to give him. That kiss they had shared…He shifted uncomfortably. He was not at all sure what had happened. He felt as though the world had swung on its axis, which was patently absurd. It was only a kiss. It did not have to be earth-shattering. He liked kissing Alice-hell, he adored kissing Alice-but the effect it had on him was starting to disturb him.
He had been so angry with Alice earlier when she had pressed him on his quarrel with his family. She had been prying into the dark corners of his mind and the places where he dared not go. He had instinctively turned away from those old secrets and had rejected her cruelly. In the past, displaying such harshness and cynicism would not have mattered to him. He would have protected himself and that was what counted. This time, though, he had been berating himself for his brutality from the moment that the words had left his lips. He had tried to drive Alice away when in fact the last thing that he wanted was to lose her.
And then there was Philip. He looked at his brother. How had Alice managed to persuade him to take his brother with him? It had been the very last thing he had intended to do and yet somehow he had not been able to resist the entreaty in her eyes. He felt strange thinking about it now. He had wanted to please her. The sensation was alien to him. It made him feel uncomfortable, as though he were surrendering some part of himself. He shifted in the saddle again. Very well, he would admit it, if only to himself.
He was starting to care for Alice.
Damnation take it.
To distract his mind he turned to Philip. The boy rode well, he noted, and he was looking about him with a sharp eye for tracks in the snow that might lead to a hiding place. Philip turned in the saddle and gave Miles a grin that was pure, infectious excitement, and Miles felt his heart lurch. For a moment Philip had reminded him of himself, in the days before he had quarreled with their father and life had been good and uncomplicated. He felt a wave of nostalgia that almost crushed him, then a determination that for Philip, at least, the future would be different from his own. He might not be able to turn back the clock or even to escape the dark cynicism that dogged his own soul but he could at least make sure that Philip was never so disillusioned.
“I’ll race you to the stand of trees by the river,” he said, and saw his brother’s face light up before the boy dug his heels into the horse’s side and stole a head start.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“I T DOES NOT FEEL RIGHT coming out to a musicale when Lydia and Tom have not been found,” Lizzie said dolefully to Alice two nights later, as they sat in the Pump Rooms and waited for the orchestra to tune up. “I do not think I will dance tonight. I am far too cast down.”
They were sitting in the front row, with Lady Vickery and Celia to Alice’s right and Mrs. Lister and Lowell to Lizzie’s left. Miles had paused on the way in to exchange a few words with Nat Waterhouse. He had kissed Alice’s hand and told her he would join her shortly. Nat had pointedly made no such promise to Lizzie, who had glared at him.
“I feel monstrous sad, Alice,” Lizzie was saying. “If they find Tom then he will be clapped in prison and hanged for sure this time, and if they do not we cannot be sure that Lydia is safe, and meanwhile there is some madman on the loose with a rifle who might take a potshot at us at any time.” She sighed. “I think I preferred it when Monty was here inf
licting his ghastly medieval taxes on us! At least that was more fun!”
“Talk of the devil,” Alice said. She looked at the portly figure who was standing in the doorway to the Pump Rooms with all the preening self-importance of a cock pheasant. “I do believe your brother has returned, Lizzie. Is that not Sir Montague in the entrance, chatting to Mr. Pullen?”
Lizzie swung around in her chair. “Goodness!” she said. “So it is! He must have come back from London for Mary Wheeler’s wedding. I heard he had asked Lord Armitage for a cut of her fortune because he claimed they would not have wed without the Dames’ Tax, and Lord Armitage told him to go hang!” She sighed, slumping back in her chair. “Drat! I suppose Monty will be all stuffy now and demand that I return to live with him at the Hall, and it has been so much more fun with you, Alice. Good Lord!” she added, grabbing Alice’s arm as her brother came into the room accompanied by a lady. “Has Monty attached himself to some female?” She screwed her face up tightly. “Surely she cannot be a…a lightskirt? Have you ever seen a gown like that in the Fortune’s Folly Pump Rooms before, Alice?”
“Not on a lady, certainly,” Alice said. She was torn between horror and amusement at the spectacle Sir Montague was making. “Gracious,” she said, “I do believe the lady is about to lose the bodice altogether!”
Sir Montague Fortune’s fair companion was waiting quite blatantly until everyone in the room was looking at her. Dressed-barely-in a glittering gown of dampened silver gauze, she looked exotic and disdainful. The murmur of voices in the room rose to a crescendo and then died away to a shocked whisper as the couple came forward.
“Oh, my!” Lizzie whispered irrepressibly in Alice’s ear. “My brother is about to introduce me to his mistress, here in front of everyone! I always knew Monty was a ramshackle fellow, but this! What shall I do, Alice?”
“Nothing,” Alice said. “Wait. I think there may be something else going on…” She had started to feel a little anxious, for she had seen that Miles and Nat Waterhouse had also spotted Sir Montague. Nat was saying something to Miles, and a rather strained look had come over Miles’s face all of a sudden. A cold premonition tiptoed down Alice’s neck and a slightly sick feeling was turning her stomach.
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