Before The Scandal (23 page)

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.

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.”

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.”

William 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.”