Before the Scandal Read online

  Alyse forced a smile. “All of your friends are here, Aunt. They will be so disappointed if you cry off.”

  Her aunt sent her a sideways glance. “Don’t pretend you’re concerned over me, Alyse. You’ve already gone riding with him yesterday and driving today. Being seen panting after him will hardly aid your reputation.”

  “I’m not panting after anyone,” she retorted. Particularly someone whose motives she couldn’t begin to decipher. “I think tonight will be enjoyable for both of us.”

  Ernesta pulled her closer. “Watch how you speak to me, Alyse. I might have had Harriet accompany me and left you at home.”

  “Nonsense, Mother,” Richard unexpectedly put in, removing the claws from Alyse’s arm and placing them over his own. “Alyse has few opportunities to dance and chat these days. We shouldn’t begrudge her one of them.”

  The unexpected support immediately made her suspicious, even laced as it was with the usual touch of condescension and cruelty. “Thank you,” she said tentatively.

  “Of course. But you shouldn’t be disappointed if your dance card is less than full. In fact, I’ll partner you for the evening’s first quadrille. That way you’ll have at least one opportunity to dance.”

  The idea of dancing with Richard made staying behind at Donnelly House sound very reasonable, but she smiled anyway. “I’ll save it for you, then,” she returned.

  Richard’s gaze moved beyond her. “Excuse me, ladies.”

  She turned around as he moved past her. The Bromleys had arrived. For a moment she allowed herself to forget that she was angry and frustrated with Phin; in a dark gray jacket and lighter trousers with a cream-colored waistcoat, he looked so handsome she literally forgot to breathe.

  Was she being an idiot to be suspicious of his kindnesses and his attention? After all, own agenda or not, at least he paid attention to her. No other man had in over four years—except for the masked French burglar who’d taken nothing that Richard had noticed. An abrupt thought left her cold. What if the Frenchman was the vandal Phin sought, and she’d said nothing about his presence? They were at war with France, after all.

  “Good evening,” Lord Quence said, as Richard led the Bromleys over to the side of the room where she and Aunt Ernesta waited.

  “Good evening, my lord,” her aunt replied, smiling. “And don’t you look lovely, Beth. I have to say that yellow is definitely your color.”

  Beth curtsied. “Thank you, Mrs. Donnelly. It looks well on you, also.”

  “Oh, please, my dear. How many times must I ask you to call me Ernesta?”

  Alyse stood back a little and watched the display. Familiar as this scene had become over the past weeks, in a sense it was even more familiar than that—a few years ago, it had been with her that Aunt Ernesta had been trying to ingratiate herself. Before her parents had died, and before the scandal.

  “Are we speaking?” Phin’s low drawl came from beside her.

  She shook herself. “Of course we’re speaking. I’ve never trusted you overly much, but we are still old friends.”

  “That’s better than a punch in the eye, I suppose.” He glanced about the crowded room before his hazel-eyed gaze returned to her. “Do they waltz in this part of England?”

  “They do. There will be two waltzes tonight.”

  “I’m claiming one of them, then.”

  She liked the way he said that, as if he were ready to fight for the chance to waltz with her. Clearly he hadn’t noticed that no gentleman other than Richard had even spoken to her.

  “How long do you intend to make me wait for an answer?” he prompted, rocking forward on his toes.

  “I would be pleased to waltz with you, Phin. Should I pencil in your name now, or do you wish to scout the rest of the guests present and look for evildoers before I force you to commit to anything?”

  “I want to dance with you,” he returned quietly, then flashed his most dazzling smile. “For the remainder of the evening, though, I might as well mingle.”

  “You should have worn your uniform this evening, Colonel,” her cousin commented. “Ladies do love a uniform, whoever happens to be wearing it.”

  “I’ve never had to resort to bragging about my position to attract a lady’s attention,” Phin returned, then flicked a finger at the diamond pin pushed through Richard’s cravat. “You look very fine, by the way.”

  Alyse fought the abrupt urge to smile. Seeing her overly confident cousin set back on his heels was both a rare and not-unwelcome sight. When she glanced again at Phin, he was looking at her. At her mouth, more precisely. She blushed. Wary of him and his motives or not, she had to admit that he was handsome as the devil and kissed like sin. After the loneliness of the past five years, how could she not be affected by his attentions? He knew it, as well. She would keep that in mind, and she had learned to look after her own interests first. No one else would.

  Richard claimed the quadrille with her and the evening’s first waltz with Beth. Just as Alyse was beginning to wonder whether Phin might request a second dance with her, he stirred again and offered his arm to his sister.

  “I wonder if you’d dare introduce me to your friends and our neighbors,” he said with his easy smile.

  Beth grinned back at him. “Of course,” she returned, tugging him toward the refreshment table. “But I do intend to tell everyone that you’ve purchased a yellow horse.”

  “You’ve doomed me, Magpie.”

  “Clever fellow,” Richard commented, looking after the siblings. “He’s managed to make off with the most beautiful scenery in the room.”

  Alyse rolled her eyes. “May I fetch anyone something to drink?” she offered, making certain Lord Quence knew he was included in the question.

  “A glass of claret would be splendid,” the viscount said, smiling up at her. If his brother and sister walking off troubled him, he didn’t show it.

  “Madeira,” Aunt Ernesta put in, and Richard echoed William’s request.

  With a nod she strolled away to find a footman. The partygoers mingled and chatted and laughed around her, but no one approached to include her in their conversation. By now she knew better than to attempt to insinuate herself into one or other of the groups, because they would only stare at her and then find they needed to be elsewhere.

  At the already-familiar sound of Phin’s laugh she looked sideways. A charming smile on his face, he had his head bent over some young woman’s dance card while he penciled in his name. The pretty blonde thing giggled, holding out her hand for Phin to bow over. Oh, please.

  “Miss Donnelly?”

  She started, turning so quickly she nearly knocked down the man who stood behind her. “Yes? Oh, Lord Anthony. You startled me.”

  The Duke of Beaumont’s grandson smiled. “I do apologize. I saw you, and thought I’d best move in before you were swallowed by the crowd.”

  “Well, you’ve caught me,” she said, smiling back at the tall, light-haired man. “What may I do for you?”

  “I was wondering if you might have a place on your card for me.”

  Alyse managed to keep her expression open and friendly. But this man was a friend of Richard’s—they’d even gone to Oxford together—and she couldn’t think of a single reason why he would wish to dance with her. Oh, for the days when she hadn’t had to consider motives and repercussions. “Certainly,” she answered, pulling the card from her reticule. “You may have your choice.”

  He took it and the pencil from her fingers. “Ah, I see you’ve given a waltz to Colonel Bromley.”

  “You know him?”

  “We’ve met,” he returned. “He came upon us surveying Quence’s overturned coach. For a moment I thought he might be the ghost of that local highwayman of yours. What was his name? Grandfather was always telling us tales about him. The Frenchie.”

  “The Gentleman?” Alyse supplied, fighting a blush. She’d half managed to convince herself that she’d dreamed up his appearance—until someone else mentioned highwa
ymen.

  “Yes, that’s him. He’d be a bit better dressed than Bromley was, though, and I don’t think The Gentleman would have been caught dead on a yellow horse.”

  “Yes, he was a notorious horseman, if I recall my local history.” Curving her lips in another smile, Alyse indicated her dance card. “Do you wish a dance, my lord, or were you merely looking for an excuse to chat?”

  He looked down at her card. “You still have a waltz,” he said, ignoring the fact that she also had four country dances and three quadrilles available to let. Lord Anthony penciled his name in beside the evening’s second waltz and then handed the card and pencil back to her. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Hm. First Richard, and now one of his cronies saw fit to be…pleasant to her. When Lord Charles Smythe approached a few moments later and requested a quadrille, she had no idea what might be afoot. The old Alyse would have expected men to approach her for a dance. The Alyse she was now knew enough to be suspicious of gift horses—and gift gentlemen.

  “If I had known such beauty awaited me in Lewes, I would have returned sooner,” Phineas drawled, circling Lady Claudia Ellerby.

  “I believe you’re attempting to turn my head,” Beaumont’s granddaughter returned with a coy smile, her light blue eyes meeting his boldly.

  “Is it working?”

  “I couldn’t possibly reply to that and still remain a lady.”

  He chuckled. They circled one another again, and he took her hand as they proceeded down the length of the ballroom floor. Beth was dancing, as well, and he caught sight of his brother seated with Andrews standing behind him, at one side of the room. An old man who looked half blind and three-quarters deaf was his nearest companion.

  So that was how it was for William. Reduced to chatting with other invalids at the edges of the room where the wheeled chair wouldn’t get in anyone’s way. Without Beth present beside him, not even Donnelly could be bothered to remain at the outside of the crush of guests.

  Of course, he wasn’t precisely doing anything differently himself. In his own defense, William seemed to prefer him elsewhere. Aside from that, he had a vandal to discover. If there was a source other than nature, coincidence, or God for the ill luck at Quence Park. Every bone in his war-tempered body, though, felt a human touch in the mix.

  “You must tell me,” Lady Claudia said, “how it is that you dance so well.”

  “Practice,” he returned. “Even during wartime, we have to celebrate what it is we’re fighting for.”

  “So you fight for the quadrille?”

  “I fight to be able to enjoy a dance with a lovely lady.”

  She smiled again, prettily. “My grandfather warned me that you were charming, and a danger to every respectable lady’s reputation.”

  Beaumont remembered him from his previous residence at Quence, then. And the duke wasn’t the only one. He’d been receiving sour looks from a handful of husbands since he’d entered the assembly rooms. And he’d caught the looks from their wives, as well. Several mothers looked ready to produce chastity belts for their unmarried daughters.

  Good God, he’d been an idiot ten years ago. Given his relative lack of experience as a sixteen- and seventeen-year-old, he was surprised half the women present weren’t laughing at him. Then again, he supposed he’d had a good share of anger and enthusiasm to make up for what he’d lacked in skill. Over the past ten years he’d managed to take care of the skill bit.

  “How long have you been in East Sussex?” he asked Lady Claudia.

  “Practically since the end of the Season. Anthony and Charles enjoy the hunting here, and Grandfather likes for us to visit.”

  Phineas nodded. “And how does a young lady fresh from the London Season spend her days when her brother and his friend are riding about the countryside?”

  “Heavens, Lewes may not be London, but it’s not cloistered, by any means. I have friends here.”

  “Ah. You must introduce me to them.”

  Her smile deepened. “Perhaps I wish to keep you all to myself, Colonel Bromley.”

  “Call me Phineas.”

  “Phineas, then.”

  The music ended, and he joined in the applause as he led her off the dance floor. That had been useful. A few minutes of dancing, and he’d already discovered that Anthony Ellerby and Charles Smythe regularly rode about the countryside, which made them suspects—at least as far as he was concerned. Added to that their uncaring manner when they’d encountered a neighbor’s overturned coach, and they’d already earned a place at the top of his list.

  At the moment everyone in and around Lewes was on his list of possible suspects, in fact. As for a motive, he hadn’t yet determined that. When he did, he had the feeling that the other bits would fall into place.

  “Phineas Bromley.”

  The feminine purr lifted the hairs on his arms, the same sensation he got just before he discovered an ambush. Imminent danger. He turned around. The tall, red-haired woman looked familiar. The generous curve of her breasts at her low neckline stirred definite memories, among other things, but for the life of him he couldn’t recall her name.

  She lifted a straight eyebrow. “I would be offended that you don’t remember me, except for the fact that if I hadn’t heard your name, I wouldn’t have recognized you, either.” Her green gaze drifted upward from his boots. “You were quite a boy. And you’ve definitely grown.”

  Her name, along with some rather heated memories, snapped into his mind. “Lady Marment.”

  Ruby lips curved into a smile. “Rebecca,” she breathed.

  Phineas nodded. “It’s good to see you again. How have you been?”

  “I’m much better now.”

  As he recalled, she was four or five years older than he was, the very bored wife of the bookish Earl Marment. They’d spent some interesting evenings in her downstairs sitting room while her husband slept just upstairs. “Lord Marment is well, I hope,” he said aloud.

  “You never used to care about that.”

  He forced a smile. “As you said, I’ve grown.”

  “I would like to hear more about th—”

  The music for the evening’s first waltz began. “Excuse me,” he said, sketching a quick bow. “I’m engaged for this dance.”

  When he turned around he caught sight of Alyse. She stood a foot or two behind her aunt and was clearly looking about the large ballroom for him. The muscles across his shoulders, tight and wary since his dance with Lady Claudia had begun, relaxed a fraction. If there was one person in East Sussex he knew to be innocent of any offense against his family, it was Alyse Donnelly. He strode over to her.

  “Shall we?” he asked, holding out his hand to her and touched by the abrupt relief in her eyes. Had she expected him not to appear?

  “Yes,” she said with a smile, gripping his fingers.

  When they reached the polished dance floor he faced her, slid an arm about her slender waist, and stepped into the waltz with her. “How has your evening been?” he asked.

  “Pleasant,” she returned. “Aunt Ernesta is in a good mood.”

  “That’s a rare thing, I assume?”

  Alyse cleared her throat. “You have no idea.”

  “I have several commanding officers. I probably have a very good idea of the rarity and importance of a pleasant mood.”

  “I could argue that, but frankly I’m too happy to be waltzing.”

  He started to reply, then changed his mind. He’d been absorbed with unearthing clues, and she’d been hoping to dance. Somehow that seemed to speak better of her than of him. “Do you have more partners for tonight?” he asked, finding that while he wanted her to be able to dance, he would be at least as happy to be her sole knight in shining armor this evening.

  “Yes. Richard and his friends are feeling charitable tonight.”

  “Is this a good thing, or should I make off with you?”

  A laugh erupted from her chest. He liked the sound; it re
minded him of summer…and innocence. And it made him want to kiss her again. He’d lost some of her trust with his questions, though. If he pressed her now, for kisses or for information, she would likely wash her hands of him entirely. And whatever else might happen, he didn’t want that.

  “I hardly think a kidnapping, friendly or not, would aid my cause, but thank you for the offer.”

  Unable to resist, he pulled her an inch or two closer. “You’re welcome, Alyse.”

  She held his gaze for several surprisingly hard beats of his heart, then visibly shook herself. “Lord Anthony said that when he saw you riding up the road this morning through the fog, he thought you were the ghost of The Gentleman.”

  Phineas snorted despite the internal jolt to his gut. He needed to tread carefully here. “I think I was more mud-splattered than dashing.” For a moment he put aside the thought that she knew Anthony Ellerby well enough that they chatted—even when she claimed that almost no one spoke with her. “And he’s accused me of being a damned lawbreaking Frenchie.”

  She hesitated. “He probably forgot that you’ve spent the past ten years fighting Bonaparte and the French.”

  Still she hadn’t mentioned her encounter with the masked Frenchman. “Yes, well, in all fairness I wasn’t in uniform this morning.” He took a breath, praying that he hadn’t already pushed her too far. “I missed you, Alyse.”

  “I’ll wager you barely gave me a thought between the day you left and the day you returned.”

  “I did, but that’s not what I mean.”

  “Then what do you mean, Phin?”

  He frowned. “That I missed you.”

  Her soft lips pursed. “Is this how you defeat the French? By attacking in such a nonsensical manner that they become dizzy and fall down?”

  She still showed flashes of that keen wit and fierce spirit he’d enjoyed when they’d been children together. Even with a brother seven years older than himself, he’d still found her at two years his junior to be his most fearless companion and friend. And it could have been more, if he hadn’t destroyed everything and fled.

  He smiled at her. “The cynicism’s new, isn’t it?”