The Scandals Of An Innocent

create a small park with a circular drive. Now, though, she was obliged to admit that it looked very pretty with the snow glittering all around them as the sun picked out the tiny sparkling crystals. Only one other rider had ventured out that morning, a gentleman on a raking black who was galloping across the distant green between the Granby Hotel and the river.

“It is nice to be out of the house,” Alice conceded, turning her face up to the pale sun. Even though Miles had forced her hand, she was obliged to admit that being out, even with him, was better than sitting around indoors.

“Yes,” Miles said. “Do you ride, Miss Lister?”

“I do, but without any degree of style or finesse,” Alice said with a smile. “No doubt my technique would be denounced were I to appear before the fashionable set on horseback. But I learned on a farm, you see.”

“You do not keep a horse at present? Does your brother stable one for you?”

“No, I, too, hire from Mr. Haven on the rare occasions I ride out,” Alice said. “Actually I prefer to walk by the river or up onto the hills, which is another activity so often frowned upon in a lady.” She shook her head. “It seems that I am too active to be genteel. One benefit of being a servant was that no one cared whether I behaved in a ladylike fashion or not. It was completely irrelevant. These days, though, I am forever being tripped up by rules and regulations.”

Miles turned his head and smiled at her. “I can imagine that must be trying,” he said. “You do not strike me as the sort of woman who would enjoy sitting sewing before the fire for hours on end just because it is in accordance with society’s dictates.”

“My sewing is accounted very neat,” Alice said, “but I do confess to finding it a little boring after a while.” She frowned, remembering a conversation she had had with Lydia the previous night when they had been sitting together, embroidering little shirts for Lydia’s baby. “May I ask you something, Lord Vickery?”

Miles smiled at her again, a rueful, boyish smile that somehow made her heart give a giddy skip and reminded her once again of how sweet things might have been between them if the circumstances had been different.

“Of course, Miss Lister,” he said.

Alice squeezed her gloved hands together a little tighter. Suddenly she felt nervous but she was not quite sure why.

“Has Tom Fortune escaped from jail?” she asked.

She saw the flare of surprise in Miles’s eyes. Whatever he had imagined she had been going to ask, this was not it. The smile faded from his lips and a steely expression came into his eyes, sharp, intense, intimidating and so different from his habitual lazy demeanor that Alice felt chilled to see it and almost shivered. He slowed the horses right down to a walk and turned so that his full attention was on her.

“Why do you ask?” His voice was very quiet.

Alice held his gaze. “Can you give me an honest answer first?”

Miles inclined his head slightly. “Yes, I can give you an honest answer,” he said. “Yes, Tom Fortune has escaped from jail.”

Alice’s breath caught in her throat. “Is Lydia in danger?”

“She might be.” Miles’s gaze narrowed on her. “You might all be. What prompted you to ask, Miss Lister?”

“It was something that you said to me the other day,” Alice said. She fidgeted with the edge of the rug. “You asked after Lydia, and I thought it was nothing but politeness, but then Lizzie said that Lord Waterhouse had asked if Lydia received any letters, and why would he want to know that?” She raised her puzzled blue gaze to Miles’s impassive face. The carriage had almost come to a standstill now beneath the laden boughs of the trees. The snow muffled all sound from the horses’ hooves. “And then last night Lydia asked me-” She stopped abruptly, realizing too late that she might be about to betray Lydia’s confidence with her unwary comments.

The intent, concentrated look in Miles’s eyes did not waver. “What did she ask you?” he said.

“Oh, nothing…” Alice grimaced, desperately trying to think of a way to avoid betraying Lydia any further. She was a very poor liar and could not even think of a convincing remark that Lydia might have made. And she knew instinctively that Miles would not believe her evasion anyway. His perceptive hazel gaze was too searching for that.

“Well, Miss Lister?” he prompted softly. “What did Miss Cole ask you? Pray do not waste your time trying to think something up. I would know it for the fiction it was.”

Alice jumped to have her thoughts echoed so precisely. “Since when did you become the expert on telling the truth?” she snapped.

“Since my courtship of you obliged me to be honest all the time,” Miles said dryly. “So?”

“Lydia said that if Tom Fortune had not murdered Sir William Crosby or Warren Sampson, who did I think the perpetrator might be?” Alice said, capitulating in a rush. “But I am sure it was no more than idle speculation on her part! If she is still in love with Tom it is natural that she would want to exonerate him of blame.”

Miles’s eyes were narrowed thoughtfully. “That’s true. Or it may be that Tom Fortune has contacted Miss Cole, persuaded her of his innocence and asked for her help. Do you know if that is the case, Miss Lister?”

“No, I do not,” Alice said, blushing, and angry because of it, for she knew it made her seem the picture of guilt. “She has confided nothing like that in me. That was all she said.”

“I see,” Miles said, his tone revealing nothing of whether he believed her-or not. “And Miss Cole has definitely received no letters?”

“Not to my knowledge.” Alice frowned. “I only asked you about Tom because I was afraid that Lydia might be in danger. Now that you are interrogating me I begin to wish that I had kept silent.”

“It would be useful if you could keep an eye on Miss Cole,” Miles said, “and let us know if anything suspicious happens.”

“I won’t spy on Lydia!” Alice said, firing up. She already felt monstrously guilty for raising Miles’s suspicions and could have kicked herself for her clumsiness. “You are trying to use me,” she added bitterly. “Again. Will I never learn? I spoke up out of concern for Lydia, but you-” she shook her head “-for all your purported desire to protect us from Tom Fortune, the only thing that you care about is recapturing him. Lydia was right!”

“So she did say something else about the case,” Miles observed calmly. “I thought so.”

“Yes, she did!” Alice said, even more annoyed that she had been caught out in the only lie she had ever knowingly told him. “She said that the authorities should look no further than you for an alternative culprit to Tom, for you had the necessary ruthlessness and the skill to be the murderer!”

She heard Miles swear under his breath. He brought the carriage to a halt so quickly that the horses jibbed, and then he swung around in his seat to face her. His physical presence was so intimidating and the anger she sensed in him so powerful that Alice instinctively drew back, only to feel the corner of the seat dig painfully into the small of her back.

“And did you believe that of me?” Miles’s voice was still quiet but there was an undertone in it now that made Alice shiver. His gloved fingers were hard against her cold cheek as he turned her face to his and forced her to meet his eyes. “Did you believe it, Alice?” he repeated softly. “Do you think me a murderer?”

“I do not know!” Alice burst out. “It is true you have the necessary ruthlessness! How could I think otherwise when you are forcing me into marriage? And Lydia was right that there must be a dozen things in your past that would make you the perfect candidate for blackmail by a criminal like Warren Sampson-”

She broke off as Miles swore again, viciously and fluently. “So you have worked out my motive, too?”

“Of course not!” Alice said. She was starting to feel a little scared of the violence she could see in his eyes. “I am not saying that you did murder Sampson-”

“No, you have merely demonstrated your complete lack of trust in me,” Miles said.

Alice saw red. “I was not aware that you wanted trust from me,” she said. “You want me in order to have my money to pay off your debts, that is all!”

“And to have you in my bed, Miss Lister,” Miles said silkily. “Do not forget that.”

“None of which requires trust or even liking,” Alice said, “or so you told me.”

“So I did,” Miles said, still in the same dangerous tone.

“You are angry,” Alice observed. “You cannot be angry with me if you do not care about my opinion.”

“Your logic slays me, Miss Lister,” Miles snapped. His expression was grim and furious. It made Alice quail, but at the same time she was puzzled that her good opinion seemed to matter so much to him. She put out a hand toward him, but before she could speak again there was a sudden crack like the sound of a branch snapping under