The Scandals Of An Innocent

buried very deep.

“When does Sir Montague return from London, Lizzie?” she asked, to turn the subject.

“In a day or two, according to his last letter,” Lizzie said. “I expect he has thought up some more medieval taxes to torment us with. How peaceful it has been in Fortune’s Folly without him.”

As they finished their spa water and prepared to leave, Miles bade farewell to Nat and came over to join them. He was not behaving much like a suitor, Alice thought, but more like a jailer.

“I will drive back to Spring House with Mrs. Anstruther,” she said.

“Then I will join you,” Miles said promptly. “I can scarcely protect you if we are in different places.”

“I wish you would not bother,” Alice said crossly, as he handed Laura into the carriage and turned to help her. “I don’t want-”

She broke off as Miles bundled her unceremoniously into the coach, jumping in after her. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her to sit beside him on the seat.

“Just for once,” he said, “you will do as you are told.”

“My, my,” Laura said, trying not to smile as she looked from one to the other, “this is going to feel like a very long journey!”

They sat in pointed silence as the coach trundled back along the route they had walked earlier. Miles did not take his hand from Alice’s wrist. She tried to free herself, furious at his restraint of her after his earlier coldness, but he held her fast.

With only that single point of contact between them, Alice soon found her skin becoming warm and tender to his touch, as though she were heating from the inside out. Her wrist tingled, incredibly sensitized. She clenched her fingers as prickles of sensation ran through her body, making her quiver. It seemed impossible that one light touch from Miles could do this to her, and yet she could concentrate on nothing else but the insistent pressure of his hand. His fingers moved, sweeping her palm in a caress that had her catching her breath. The air in the carriage grew sultry. Alice sat still, transfixed, the blood thrumming through her veins in hard, heavy strokes. The heat built in her body. She did not dare move for fear that Laura would guess her state and for fear that Miles would see what he was doing to her.

But then the pressure of his fingers increased infinitesimally and Alice was powerless to resist looking at him and saw in his dark, heavy-lidded gaze that he knew exactly how she felt. The knowledge made another wave of delicious sensuality roll over her leaving her languid and warm. She shifted on the seat, unable to prevent the tiny shivers of awareness that racked her body. This was almost unbearable. How could Miles do this to her when she was so angry and frustrated with him? How could her body betray her so thoroughly? And yet it seemed that that vicious frustration was part of the friction between them, for it chafed her feelings and gave her no peace, and she wanted to be free of Miles and yet she also wanted him so badly she could barely breathe.

Miles leaned forward and spoke softly in her ear. His breath tickled her neck sending more tremors of feeling along her nerves.

“You seem a little distracted, Miss Lister,” he said. “Are you quite well?”

Laura looked up. “You are very flushed, Alice,” she said. “Are you developing a fever?”

Alice saw a faint smile curve Miles’s firm lips.

“Yes!” she said. “No. I do not know.”

“You sound confused,” Miles said soothingly.

“I am quite well,” Alice said. With inexpressible relief she saw that they were turning into the gate at Spring House. She had spent the entire journey aware of nothing other than the touch of Miles’s hand on hers. Tiny shivers still seemed to be tiptoeing over her skin as she looked at him and he returned the gaze with a very direct look of his own. She could see in his eyes how much he wanted her. She could feel the tension tight in him, held under absolute control. She thought of their quarrel and how it did not seem to make an ounce of difference as to whether she wanted him in her bed or not and she felt helpless and eager and wanton and wicked.

As soon as the carriage rolled onto the sweep there was a shout, and both Marigold and Jim the footman ran out to greet them. Alice jumped and freed herself from Miles’s grip. Marigold was twisting her hands in her apron and looked as though she wanted to cry.

“Miss Alice!” She looked stricken.

“What is it, Marigold?” Alice asked. She was aware of Miles standing tense and watchful at her shoulder. “What has happened?”

“It’s Miss Lydia!” Marigold wailed. “She has run away!”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

THEY SEARCHED throughout the long, cold day, but found no trace of Lydia or Tom Fortune. As the afternoon progressed, the snow returned and the temperature fell. It was going to be a cold night. Lady Vickery huddled before the fire and declared that they would find Lydia frozen to death by the morning. Mrs. Lister made endless cups of tea and read the leaves, bemoaning the fact that all the omens were bad ones. Celia Vickery seemed to have vanished, and Philip sat moodily in a corner carving a stick and trying to look as though he was not too disappointed that his mother had banned him from accompanying the search parties.

“I blame myself,” Laura said to Alice that afternoon as they worked side by side in the kitchen of the Old Palace to help the servants prepare refreshment for the search parties. “Lydia must have been afraid that I would bully her into telling the truth about Tom’s whereabouts.” She shook her head. “I can only hope he is looking after her. Poor Lydia-she is so alone.”

“I had heard the news that the Duke and Duchess of Cole refused to spare any staff for the search,” Alice said. She had been disgusted at their attitude. “They said that their servants had better things to do with their time!”

Miles came in. He was wearing a greatcoat dusted with snow and looked moody and bad-tempered. Alice had barely spoken to him since their quarrel that morning, but now, despite his impatient expression, she thought she sensed a softening in him.

“I should have predicted that this would happen,” he said to her as he took the mug of hot chocolate she proffered. “Last night we both thought that Miss Cole had slipped out to meet Tom Fortune. I should have realized that her next step would be to run away to him.” His gaze dwelled on Alice’s face. “I was distracted,” he said. “It was a great mistake to move into Spring House to keep an eye on you, Alice. It seems I can see nothing else.” His lips twitched and she thought he was almost smiling. “Try not to look so pleased,” he added dryly.

“I thought,” Alice said, taking advantage of the fact that he appeared to be in a better mood, “that you might like to take Philip with you when you go back out to search. He is desperate to be of use and I am sure he would be able to help-”

She stopped at the sight of Miles’s black frown. “Philip is more likely to be a hindrance than a help,” Miles said shortly. “It would be better for him to stay here with Mama. She will only fret all the more otherwise.”

Alice turned away and crashed a few pans with unnecessary force onto the stove. Some soup slopped onto the floor. Fuming silently, she reflected that Miles really was utterly impossible.

“Alice,” Miles said, a tiny hint of humor in his voice.

Alice ignored him. She had heard the tone of his voice and her pulse had started to race with renewed hope, but she was not going to give Miles the satisfaction of dictating their conversation. She took the ham pie down from the larder shelf and sliced it with quick, vicious chops of the knife.

“Very wifely,” Miles commented.

“I have nothing to say to you, Miles,” Alice said. “You are a horrid, bad tempered, unkind and mean-spirited person and I was quite wrong in thinking that there was an ounce of goodness in you.”

“I told you I had absolutely no saving graces,” Miles said. “You should have listened to me. I never lie to you.”

“Clearly,” Alice said. She slapped a dish of potted venison and some butter down on the table. “Would you care for me to slice some bread for you?” she inquired coldly.

“No, thank you,” Miles said. “You would probably have my hand off.” He sighed heavily. “Oh, very well. Philip