A Perfect Deception

by Alyssa Drake

  “Mrs. Stanton introduced Alice’s suitor to his current wife.” She held up her hand. “I cannot say more. I have sworn never to reveal the name. As much as I detest Alice, I cannot break my word.” She reached for the letter again, reading it through once more. “I suppose Mrs. Stanton and Lady Westwood have a previous engagement this evening.”

  “They do,” confirmed Miss Hastings. “They have invited Benjamin’s cousin, Mr. Asher Reid, and his sons to dine with them this evening.”

  “I do, as well.” Daphne murmured. Mr. Reid expected an answer to his proposal this evening. However, between the discovery of Mrs. Clark and the further injury to her person, she had not given her reply much consideration. Perhaps Mr. Reid would give her leave to defer until the end of the week, under the need to discuss the matter with Aunt Abigail—although she felt certain Aunt Abigail would approve of the match.

  Miss Randall glanced up, her eyes rounded in surprise. “You do?”

  Forcing a tight smile, Daphne nodded. “Unfortunately, I do.”

  Spending an evening pretending to be civil while Miss Shirely meticulously picked apart her character seemed a fruitless exercise in patience. She much preferred a quiet dinner with Lady Westwood and Mrs. Stanton, and she very much wanted to meet Mr. Reid’s children. He was the only man to offer her marriage, and despite his cousin’s protest, she was considering it.

  Her heart constricted, a stinging pain slicing through the center. She did not have the luxury to be romantic. She must be practical, and a practical woman understands, sometimes sacrifices need to be made. Was marrying Mr. Asher Reid a sacrifice? To be certain, his was not the face she imagined when she closed her eyes. Did she dare hope Mr. Thomas Reid’s jealousy would lead him toward love?

  “Miss Randall?” Miss Larson’s small voice interrupted Daphne’s thoughts. “Would it be possible to accompany you this evening? My mother took a position with Mrs. Shirely, and I would like to see her.”

  “Certainly, Miss Larson. I would be delighted to bring you.” Her violet eyes slid to Miss Hastings. “Will you attend this evening?”

  A flicker of disgust flashed over Miss Hastings’ face. She swallowed the grimace and forced a smile. “I will speak with Benjamin.”

  “What invitation are you attempting to decline, Samantha?” Mrs. Hastings’ irritation floated across the courtyard. She appeared on the veranda, her arms crossed.

  “We have been invited to dine with the Shirelys this evening,” replied Miss Hastings, walking toward her.

  “It is a pity I will not be able to attend. With no one to watch the girls, I will have to decline Mrs. Shirely’s invitation.”

  “What happened to their governess?” Miss Hasting’s suspicious question, held a hint of amusement.

  “She is not able to continue with her duties,” replied Mrs. Hastings with a sniff.

  Miss Hastings grinned. “That is a shame. Is that their fifth governess?”

  Mrs. Hastings narrowed her eyes, pursing her lips. “You are well aware she was, Samantha.”

  Lady Westwood and Aunt Abigail appeared next to Mrs. Hastings. They glanced at each other, a silent conversation occurring between them. “Miss Hastings,” said Lady Westwood, “please consider accepting Mrs. Shirely’s invitation as neither Abigail nor I will be able to attend, and it would be impolite for the entire household to decline.”

  “Daphne, I suspect you will want to join us this evening,” added Aunt Abigail, thumping her cane once on the veranda. Nodding, Daphne limped toward them. Aunt Abigail’s eyes narrowed. “Is your injury worse? I thought you were resting…”

  “I fell off a horse this morning,” replied Daphne. Miss Hastings slipped under her arm, helping her climb up the veranda steps, then deposited her on a bench.

  Aunt Abigail flicked the edge of Daphne’s hem up, inspecting her swollen leg. “Katherine, I apologize, but I will have to discipline your son. He ensured me he would return Daphne in the same state as when she left, and this,”—she flung her arm at Daphne—“is not acceptable.”

  “Please, Aunt Abigail.” Daphne pushed off the bench with a groan and stood. “I must protest. Mr. Reid was not with me when I fell.”

  “Where was he?” yelled Aunt Abigail.

  “He went with Mr. Davis to retrieve Lord Westwood and Miss Hastings.”

  “Who was with you?”

  “The first time, it was Mr. Flannery.”

  “The first time?” Aunt Abigail’s voice crackled with fury. “How many times have you fallen?”

  “Twice.” Daphne stared at the wooden floorboards of the veranda, twisting her hands together. She was going to forbid Daphne from ever riding again.

  “Who was with you the second time?” asked Aunt Abigail, her voice low.

  “I was alone.” Aunt Abigail looked as though she would explode. Daphne rushed on, “A snake frightened my horse and the horse reared, running down the road toward Mr. Morris’ estate. I slipped off just as we reached the barn. Mr. Reid discovered me and carried me to safety.”

  Aunt Abigail wrapped her in a tight embrace. “I am extremely grateful you are unharmed. However, in the future—”

  “Miss Randall was turned out of her house,” said Daphne, hoping the admission would distract Aunt Abigail from her current focus.

  Aunt Abigail released Daphne, her gaze sliding to Lady Westwood. “That was quicker than I expected.”

  “Yet not unexpected,” replied Lady Westwood, turning to Miss Randall. “We discussed the possibility Mr. Pierce would claim your uncle’s property; you are welcome to stay with us until a suitable arrangement can be found.”

  “Would you be willing to accept me as a permanent guest?” asked Miss Randall, a tentative hitch in her question.

  “I would be delighted to have you, Miss Randall. However, would you not want to marry at some point?”

  “I do intend to marry; I have already picked my match.” She offered a brilliant smile.

  “That is excellent news, Miss Randall. Who is the gentleman?”

  “Your son.”

  Lady Westwood and Aunt Abigail exchanged another glance.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Edward,

  Unfortunately, I cannot be here to graciously welcome you to my home. However, due to the sudden appearance of Lord Westwood’s brother this morning, I now have the laborious task of moving Mrs. Clark to a safer location. Search all you desire, you will find no trace of her or me. Rest assured, once I have completed my errand, I shall repay the difficulty in kind.

  Please give my respects to your sister. I have been watching her and her lovely new friends for some time now—creeping onto Westwood Estate, visiting the stables, brushing my fingers over Lady Westwood’s delightful gardens, and consuming your table scraps. Yes, I am that close to you. Had I the opportunity, I would have exacted my revenge upon Samantha already. However, she continually steals into Lord Westwood’s chamber, thus making that particular endeavor difficult.

  Edward’s eyes flicked up from the letter. Wordlessly, he walked over to Benjamin. Without warning, he struck him squarely in the jaw. “You broke your word.”

  “Swing again, Edward.” Raising his fists, Benjamin narrowed his eyes.

  Thomas smirked, ripping the letter from Edward’s clenched hand. His eyes skimmed over the words again. Glancing at Benjamin, he pointed at the letter with a gleeful grin. “Morris claimed he had been unable to kill Miss Hastings because she was sleeping in your chamber. Edward must have just read that part.”

  “I did,” growled Edward, drawing his arm back a second time.

  Dancing away, Benjamin opened his hands into a placating gesture. “If the only reason your sister remains alive is due to her nocturnal activities, should you not be grateful for my involvement?”

  Thomas tackled Edward as he dove at Benjamin. They rolled across the ground, a jumbled ball of limbs and curse words. Thomas flipped over, scrambling on top of Edward, pinning him in the dirt. Edward gnashed his teeth.


  “There will be other opportunities to extoll your anger.”

  “Is that what you said to Aidan?” snarled Edward, struggling against Thomas’ iron grip.

  “No.” Grunting, Thomas climbed off Edward. He stood and extended his hand, helping Edward to his feet. “I apologized.”

  “You apologized?”

  “I would have done the same thing, had I been in his position. Alana is his sister.” Thomas shrugged, glancing at Benjamin. “Can you not understand Edward’s frustration with your actions?”

  “It’s part of his charm.” Benjamin rubbed his jaw, glowering at Edward.

  “I am not apologizing for striking you.”

  “You are fortunate I am married to your sister, or I would remind you why I was the reigning boxing champion during our university years.”

  Grumbling, Edward bent over, snatching the missive from the dirt, where it landed when Thomas knocked him to the ground. Turning his back on Benjamin, he brushed the paper flat, his eyes scanning over the final paragraph.

  How long do you think it will take for your childhood home to burn to the ground? I shall let you know when I collect my inheritance from you. It is a shame you dragged the Flannerys and Shirelys into our little family disagreement. They shall all suffer for their involvement. I will set the countryside ablaze with my fury… Unless you see fit to award the ancestral jewelry to me, then I shall only take Samantha’s life before I release your family from its obligation. Consider your options, Edward. How many souls are you willing to lose? Shall we start with your housekeeper’s life?

  “He’s going to set the manor afire.” Edward’s strained voice choked on the final word. He thrust the note at Benjamin. “Mrs. Caldwell… I must warn her.”

  “Go.” Benjamin jerked his head toward the road, his eyes racing over the message. “Thomas will return to Westwood Estate—I am certain he is hungry, having missed breakfast and lunch—and I will attend the constable once he arrives.”

  Nodding, Edward climbed onto his horse. Urging the horse into a gallop, he raced toward the main road, vanishing within moments.

  Crumbling the letter in his fist, Benjamin raised his black gaze to Thomas. “Stop at the Flannery’s property and explain to Aidan that Morris has expanded his ire to include their family. They need to be prepared.” Benjamin paused, a war in his eyes. “We will also need to speak with the Shirelys. Their assistance will be needed—including Mr. Shirely’s, even though his character is questionable—until Morris is caught.”

  “What if he is the accomplice?” murmured Thomas, wrapping his hand around Shadow’s reins.

  “I had considered that option. However, why would he threaten his own family?”

  “If he was willing to murder his brother…” Thomas patted Shadow’s head, stroking his fingers over the horse’s soft coat.

  “Mr. Shirely did not kill his brother,” replied Benjamin.

  “Did you have a conversation with Mr. Davis?” Thomas narrowed his eyes.

  “I did, and he believes Mr. Shirely’s innocence.”

  “Does he know who did?”

  “He has his suspicions.”

  “Why did he not say anything?”

  “It is not his place.” Benjamin’s curt reply ended the discussion. “However, there is an unknown accomplice, and until we discover who he is, we must be cautious.”

  Thomas touched his hand to his forehead, vaulting onto the horse’s back. Inclining his head once, Thomas turned the horse in a half-circle. Riding slowly down the drive, his eyes swept back-and-forth, checking the road for any signs of Morris. At the fork, he headed right, maintaining his slow pace. When he reached fence lining the Flannery’s property, he yanked on the reins.

  Alana stomped down the road, a rifle across her arms, fire blazing in her eyes. “Was it necessary to hit him that hard?”

  Thomas flung his leg over the horse, dismounting Shadow. “He hit me first.”

  “You deserved his wrath.” She swung the rifle, aiming it at his chest.

  “As much as you deserve mine?” Thomas arched an eyebrow. She was, after all, the reason he risked Aidan’s anger, in the first place. A flash of pain shot through her eyes, and she lowered the gun. “You need sleep,” he said, softening his tone

  “I need many things,” she sighed, gesturing toward the main road. “I am assuming you came from Mr. Morris’ estate. What did you discover?”

  “Morris removed Mrs. Clark’s body. We lost his trail. Benjamin stayed behind to assist the constable.” Thomas leaned forward, dropping his voice. “Morris left a note for Edward. He threatened to burn down the manor and murder the housekeeper.”

  Alana gasped.

  “Edward left immediately.” Thomas walked along the road, his hand wrapped loosely around Shadow’s reins. “Morris claimed he intended to punish your family as well for assisting Edward and Miss Hastings.”

  “We are not frightened.” Alana shouldered her gun, trailing her fingertips along the wooden fence as she strolled beside Thomas. “Aidan and I discussed the probability of our actions angering Franklin. We have a plan.”

  “Which is?”

  “Patrick is coming.”

  Thomas nodded. The eldest Flannery, a practical, gruff man, who spent most of his youth chasing Aidan and Benjamin across fields, through barns, and over the stream—on several occasions.

  A sudden thought crashed into his head. “I thought you were shooting with Miss Clemens.”

  “Her ankle was causing her too much trouble. Aidan carried her back to Westwood Estate.” She stopped, leaning against a fencepost.

  “And where is Aidan now?” asked Thomas, forcing a nonchalant tone into his question.

  “Nursing a black eye.” Alana tilted her head, studying him for a moment. She opened her mouth and paused as if debating her next sentence. “I owe you an explanation.”

  “But not an apology?”

  “No.”

  “I cannot think of one excusable reason—”

  “Your uncle threatened Mother’s life!”

  Thomas’ jaw dropped. Uncle Benedict knew of his intention to marry Alana, why had he not expressed his concern over the matter?

  “You are lying,” Thomas hissed. “He loved you, told me he thought you were a fine match.” Those were his exact words when Thomas revealed to him later that evening, he and Alana were engaged.

  “Benedict loved you,” retorted Alana with a shake of her head, her loose tresses whipping around her face. “And you were blinded to his prejudices.”

  “He was a good man, treating everyone with respect.”

  “With the exception of my family…” Alana closed her eyes, mimicking Benedict’s gruff tone. “No Irish bitch is going to bear my nephew’s children, not while I have one breath in this body. If you do not break your engagement, I will kill your mother on the eve of your wedding.”

  “You are mistaken, he would never—”

  “Aidan will confirm my story. He had been with your brother that evening and was returning home late. He witnessed the confrontation.”

  Thomas’ vision blurred. Why would his uncle deliberately destroy his relationship with Alana? His mind raked through memories, searching for hints of his uncle’s deception. Uncle Benedict had lied to him for years, watched him suffer, and said nothing, all due to a petty prejudice? The thought seemed impossible… and yet, as memories tumbled through his mind, he remembered the insults, the cruel comments about Aidan and Patrick, the harsh treatment of Mrs. Flannery during social functions, from not only Uncle Benedict but several prominent societal members as well. He stumbled, clutching his chest. Leaning against the fence, his eyes focused on Alana. He had treated her so poorly.

  “You believe me,” she whispered.

  He nodded. “I—”

  She held up her hand. “Your understanding is all I crave. I would never intentionally hurt you, and the fact you believed I could, wounded me so deeply… We are two very different people from who we once were, Thom
as. As much as I value your friendship, I want nothing more from you than that, not even an apology. You were a victim as much as I, blinded by the prejudices of our fathers. We must accept fate had different plans for the two of us. However, I do not regret the life I have lived. Sebastian was a kind man, and I am grateful he was my husband.”

  Thomas grabbed her arm, yanking her against him. “We would have figured out a way. Did you not trust me?”

  Alana glanced down at his hand, a wistful smile on her lips. “And set you against your Uncle Benedict? I could not take him from you, not after you lost your father. I sacrificed my heart to save yours.”

  “I loved you!” exploded Thomas.

  “And I, you. The moment I heard of your uncle’s passing, I wrote you a letter.” She extracted her arm from his grasp. “However, you refused the missive and every other one I sent afterward.”

  “I was angry.” He dragged his hand through his hair, frustration oozing through his body. He’d lost his chance at love, he’d been a broken man for so long, and now…

  Craning her neck, Alana stared at the sky, a sad smile pulling at a corner of her mouth. “Our time has passed, and I have no intention of interfering with your future. I will be leaving for London this evening. Aidan has booked passage to America for me. It’s time for a new adventure.” She returned her eyes to Thomas. “And you, dear friend, I suggest you rethink your position on matrimony, or you will lose your opportunity at happiness once again.”

  She curtsied and spun, walking down the drive. Mounting Shadow, Thomas urged the horse into a gallop, racing down the main road. His thoughts chased him. How could Uncle Benedict betray him? Did Benjamin know of this meddling… did his mother? Surely, his mother would never allow Uncle Benedict to threaten such an atrocious act.

  So preoccupied was he with his thoughts, he did not realize his surroundings until Shadow skidded to a stop, nearly crashing into the barn door. He whinnied in protest, stomping the ground. Apologizing, Thomas slid from the horse’s back. Opening the door, Thomas led Shadow into the stables, removed the tack and bit, ushering the horse into his stall. Extracting a sugar lump, he pressed it to Shadow’s expectant lips, then raced from the stables.