“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

“IT 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 inflicting 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.

“She does have a certain style,” Lizzie was murmuring. “I wonder what she can possibly see in Monty? And what on earth possessed him to bring her here? She looks like a bird of paradise in a farmyard!”

“That is Louisa Caton,” Lady Vickery whispered, waking from what seemed to be a scandalized trance. “Look away, girls! Whatever can Sir Montague be thinking to bring the most notorious courtesan in London here? Look away, I say,” she said again, catching Alice’s arm. “Really, this is most vulgar and an utter disgrace.”

“That is Monty for you,” Lizzie said irrepressibly. “Dear ma’am, have no fear! I do not think we shall be corrupted simply looking at a courtesan-” She broke off. “Oh, but…wasn’t Miss Caton the one-” She stopped again, looking at Alice. “Oh dear,” she said, stricken. “Oh, Alice.”

“Yes,” Alice said. She realized her voice was shaking. “I do believe that Miss Caton was the courtesan with whom Lord Vickery was involved when last he was in London.”

“Alice!” Mrs. Lister snapped. “You are not supposed to know such things. And if you do know, you are to pretend that you do not know!”

“I am sorry, Mama,” Alice said. “No doubt you are correct and that a lady would pretend ignorance. But you have always known that I am no lady.”

Mrs. Lister made a little sound of abject misery. “Oh, what are we to do?” She turned to Lady Vickery. “In front of his mama, too!”

“In front of his betrothed,” Lady Vickery said hollowly. “In front of the lawyers!” She glanced across at the row of chairs that contained Mr. Churchward and Mr. Gaines. Gaines had a look of extreme interest on his face as he watched Louisa Caton approach Miles. Mr. Churchward, in contrast, looked as shocked as though the courtesan had sat herself down on his lap. His face was red, his eyes as round as dinner plates behind his spectacles and his mouth was an equally round, scandalized circle of shock. Alice knew exactly how he felt.

“Whistling away an heiress-and before the knot is tied, too!” Lady Vickery wailed. “Stupid, stupid boy.” She turned to Alice. “Miss Lister, I appeal to you to give Miles a chance to explain-”

“I do not think so,” Alice said. “Events are rather speaking for themselves, are they not?”

She watched in fascinated horror as Sir Montague accosted Miles. It almost felt as though she was watching a play, seeing the moves, hearing the lines. In the moment she felt nothing but she knew that at any point the chill carapace that held her might crack and the pain would rush in and she was afraid she could not bear it. This was the gilded creature with whom Miles had had a torrid affair. This was the woman whose bed he had sought after he had jilted her the previous year. This was the salt in the wound.