Page 86 of Again, Scoundrel

“Use the servants’ entrance,” Williams said. “They are expecting you. You’ll cause no disturbance.”

Alistair paused, knowing Williams was right, although his entire body was urging him forward. To go now, immediately. There was more to be said between himself and his brother. Their last conversation couldn’t be the final one they ever had. His proper, inscrutable brother had let Alistair into the secrets of his heart, and Alistair had said nothing in return. He could not stand for that to be Darius’s last remembrance of him.

But what if… and here his heart caved in on itself for just a moment…. it was already too late for Darius? The thought made him stumble and then move twice as fast.

He had no time to wonder when he’d begun to think of his family as important parts of his life. When he had developed, apparently, roots.

“You’ll be faster, my lord,” Williams pressed, “in traveling clothes and with sustenance.”

“Fine,” Alistair said, acquiescing. The man was right, and they both knew it. “But we’ll leave before the hour and not a moment after. I can see myself changed. Make ready for the ride.”

Violet watched Alistair disappear into the servants’ entrance of Pembrooke’s country house from her hiding place along the shadowed wall of the stables.

Williams checked on the large bay gelding and a smaller dappled gray. Both horses were ready and waiting, so Williams dismissed the stable boy with a coin and doublechecked the tack.

Then he ran his hand along the gleaming chestnut mane of the bay.

“You’re a beaut, aren’t you?” he murmured.

“Why, thank you,” Violet said, stepping out of the shadows and into his line of vision.

“Miss Goodwin.” Williams bowed slightly, his features showing no hint of surprise to find Violet there. “It is good to see you.”

“Likewise,” she said.

“Will you be needing a horse?”

“As it happens, I will, yes.”

“I am glad to hear it.” His eyes swooped downward and lingered meaningfully on her dress.

Violet followed his gaze, taking in the enormity of her ballgown’s wide hemline and frowned. She’d come to an accord with Madame Tremaux, where her gowns had more room to move and less decolletage than most, but she still had the entirely too broad wire-cage crinoline to contend with.

It would be impossible for her to ride all the way to Kent wearing such a thing, even if she could fit on the horse in it, which she doubted.

“You don’t happen to have a spare set of trousers, do you?” she asked.

“If you’ll give me a moment,” Williams replied, and Violet caught the way the side of his mouth had quirked up in a knowing smile.

He held out the reins of the dappled gray to her. “I presume you know how to ride?”

“I’m from New York,” Violet said, as if that should be answer enough. “Of course, I know how to ride.”

Alistair made his way back to the mews in riding attire.

“Williams,” he called, anxious to get on. “Are you quite ready?”

He was irritated, images of his brother lying in a fever-induced haze filling his mind. He wanted to be to Kent as soon as possible.

“All’s ready, sir,” Williams said, appearing instantly at the sound of Alistair’s voice.

“You’ve not changed,” Alistair remarked, eyeing the man up and down.

“No, my lord. I have not.”

“You plan to ride to Kent in your best coat, then?”

Williams had dressed as well as he could to step into the betrothal ball.