Before The Scandal (24 page)

“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.”

“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.

“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.

Richard had asked how her ride with Lord Anthony had been; he’d known the villain would come calling, then, and he’d very likely known what Ellerby would be discussing. Whatever gratitude she’d had for his initial rescue had fast faded to a barely tolerable loathing. Only the knowledge that Phin was hunting him made speaking with her cousin tolerable.

As soon as Richard returned to his newspaper and her aunt to her new embroidery project, Alyse allowed herself a smile. It seemed like ages, if ever, since she’d been able to do that in this household, much less in the presence of her relations. Phin might have taken her virginity, but he’d given her even more in return. He’d given her back her spirit. Her thoughts weren’t only of fleeing, any longer; she wanted to strike back.

How, then, was she supposed to let Phin leave again? Not that she could do anything to stop him from going, but just the thought of him riding away to definite danger and probable death made her heart hurt. But if he hadn’t come back at all—that would have been worse.

“What are you going to wear?” Richard asked abruptly, making her jump.

“To go riding? My riding habit, of course.”

“The green one.”

“It’s the only one I own.”

He regarded her, blowing out his breath as he did so. “You and Beth are of a size, I believe. You, Mary, go up to the green room and look in the wardrobe. There’s a gold riding habit in the bottom drawer.”

Mary stood up, somehow managing to curtsy at the same time, and hurried from the room. Alyse recognized both the maid’s expression and the speed of her flight; poor Mary was miserable even after only one day of serving as Ernesta’s companion.

“Are you certain you wish to be giving me all of Beth’s gifts?” she asked, hoping this courage she’d found wouldn’t serve her poorly.

“I trust you’ll use them wisely,” he replied, somehow able to make even such a benign sentence sound menacing.

“I agree with Alyse,” her aunt interjected. “When you offer for Beth, you certainly don’t wish to explain that your ruined cousin has borrowed all of the gifts you’d meant to shower on your betrothed.”

Heavens. He did mean to offer for Beth. It would give him a stronger claim to Quence, but it didn’t speak well at all for the continued survival of either William or Phineas.

“I will have a great many gifts for Beth, Mother. There’s no reason to be uncharitable where my cousin is concerned.”

Her aunt actually laughed. “You must be in love, Richard, to have become so generous with those less worthy.”

Alyse stifled a sigh. It would have provided her with a little satisfaction to know that she had ten thousand pounds coming to her, and that she would never have to fetch anything for her aunt again. But the more she helped Phin, the less likely she was to receive anything from her cousin.

Perhaps she could demand a partial cash payment, so she could at least leave Lewes with enough funds to keep herself safe. Hm. As Phin had said, it was time they stopped following and instead began guiding the action.

Mary returned to the room, a riding habit draped over her arms. The color was lovely; Richard had elegant taste, if a poor way of going about getting what he wanted. “Thank you, Richard,” she said, taking it from Mary.

“Go put it on. Mary, help her.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Phin won’t be here for nearly three hours, Richard,” Alyse countered, curious about how far she could push his so-called generosity.

“Then you’ll be ready when he arrives,” he returned in the same easy tone.

“You’re not hoping to match her with that…soldier, are you, Richard? His own family can barely tolerate him. There will be gossip again.”

“He won’t be in East Sussex long, Mother. And she’ll show well in her new habit in the meantime. Perhaps she’ll catch some shopkeeper’s eye.”

Show well
—like a horse. Well, little did they know that Phin had already…ridden her. She snorted.

“Is something amusing to you, Alyse?” Richard asked, lowering the paper to gaze at her.

“It’s only that I have a new dress. Thank you again.” She rose, handing the dress back to Mary. “Shall we?”

Mary dipped another curtsy. “Yes, miss.”

As soon as she buttoned up the front of the riding habit she realized what Richard had meant about her showing well. She’d never worn anything as snug in her life. So he meant for her to seduce a confession out of Phin.

“Goodness, Miss Alyse,” Mary breathed, stepping back from pinning up her light brown hair. “You look beautiful.”

Alyse spun a slow circle in front of her dressing mirror. “Thank you. I feel beautiful.” With the low-cut neckline she also felt positively scandalous, and for anyone but Phin, she would have refused to wear it.

Now all she needed to do was wait for him to arrive, and then the two of them could figure out the best way for her to betray him.

“Thank you, Saunders. I know the way.”

“But I wish to announce you, sir.”

Halting his advance midstep, Phineas looked sideways at the butler. The man had been at his post for at least the past thirty years, one of the few faces he recognized from his boyhood visits to Donnelly House. “How is Miss Donnelly this afternoon?” he asked.

“Very glad to see a friend, I would imagine, sir.”

Phineas nodded. He recognized an ally when he saw one. “Announce me, then, Saunders.”

“Very good, sir.”

He waited outside the morning room door as the butler pushed it open and entered. “My lord, Colonel Phineas Bromley.”

And so the next act of the play began. Phineas could only hope it wasn’t another tragedy. Gathering himself, he strolled into the room. “Good afternoon, Donnelly, Mrs. Donnelly, Miss…Donnelly.”

Good God. If Alyse’s attire had been meant to cause him to pop the buttons of his breeches, it very nearly succeeded. Gold and low-cut and nearly molded to her delicious curves, a flare at the hips that made his mouth dry, it was stunning. She was stunning. He had no idea how the devil he was supposed to ride now.

The other two Donnellys and their accompanying servants nodded and curtsied, though he hardly noted it. He couldn’t remove his gaze from Alyse. In that attire she
could
have caught herself a duke. Or a prince. Or a king.

Slowly he began to catch bits of what Donnelly was saying, something about pleasant weather for going riding. Phineas shook himself. He was in the middle of bloody enemy territory.
Concentrate.
“Indeed,” he said aloud, trying for something noncommittal. He cleared his throat. “Shall we?” he asked, holding out his hand to Alyse.

She glided forward to slide her fingers around his arm. “Yes,” she returned softly, smiling at him.

The hairs on his arms lifted. What the devil was she doing, letting Donnelly know how close they were? She could be ruined. Phineas swallowed. “I’ll have her back before dark,” he said.

“Enjoy yourselves.”

He waited until they were on horseback, a groom trailing them, before he spoke again. “Two questions,” he said.

“I’m listening.”

“Firstly, where the devil did you get that dress?”

“Don’t you like it?”

“It’s not a matter of liking it. It’s a matter of how long I can keep my hands off you while you’re in it.”

She smiled, her cheeks flushing. “I shouldn’t tell you, then, that Richard gave it to me.”

His amusement dropped into something much darker. “What?”

“I mean he gave it to me with the intention that I should seduce your secrets out of you. At least I assume that’s what he wanted. He did say that I would show well in it.”

Despite the nastiness of her cousin’s suggestions, the information actually left Phineas feeling better. He wouldn’t tolerate poaching. Particularly not when it came from someone who had a large degree of control over Alyse’s future. “How did he know I would ask you to go riding?”

“Well, this was actually supposed to be a gift for Beth. He wants his information, Phin.”

That blackguard had purchased that dress for his little sister? Phineas drew in a hard breath through his nose. His private animosity toward Richard Donnelly could wait. Saving Quence, and Alyse, came first.

“My second question, then: Has he threatened you again?”

“No. Just more talk about how well I’d best do the task assigned me.”

“Oh, you’re going to do it very well.”

“Do you have a plan, then?”

Phineas gazed at her. He imagined that most females who’d been through what she had wouldn’t have hesitated to give him up in exchange for what Richard offered. Conscience notwithstanding, ten thousand quid would make for a warm blanket on any cold, sleepless night.

“What are you looking at?” she prompted. “I told you that the dress was not my idea.”

“I’m not looking at the dress.”

“Oh.” She blushed prettily.

“I’m going to ask you to trust me,” he said slowly.

“I trust you.”

He smiled at that; he couldn’t help it. If she knew how very much it meant to him to have someone—to have her—say that…
Later, Phin
. “Then there are parts of the plan I can’t tell you.”

She didn’t like that; he could see it in her eyes as she glanced at him and then returned her gaze to the path. “Perhaps I should have thought to ask if
you
trust
me
,” she said.

“I trust you with my life,” he returned, hearing the shake of his words as he spoke. “And I swear that after this is over with, I will honestly answer any and every question you put to me.”

“Every question?”

“Every question.”

Alyse nodded. “Very well. I’m listening.”

As he told her, Phin sent up a quick prayer. Most of this brilliant plan of his relied on two people who hadn’t even arrived yet in East Sussex. And if they failed to appear in time, he was going to lose everything, including his life.