Page 73

“The basic resources were here already. I needed only the mill and the horse to pull the millstone. It took a few years to purchase those things, but Henry and I used that time to nurture the trees and perfect the blend of apples for the best possible cider.

“That is the truth of the situation—even if few believe it. I did not realize what my withdrawal from Society had done to my reputation until you opened my eyes to it.” He sighed. “You asked why I have not attempted to clear my name. First and foremost, I refuse to exchange my name for my father’s. The former Lord Dunsbourne was an exceptional man. He suffered enough privately for the poor choice he made. He does not deserve any further taint to his reputation.”

“But neither do you. And you are the one who must move forward in life. You and Emily. As a young lady, it is even more imperative that she come out from under the shadow of this terrible injustice. Lady Bloxley’s influence can only go so far.”

Adam managed a small smile. “I realized, too late, what you did for Emily with that introduction. Thank you for that.”

“As I said before, Emily is fully deserving of a warm reception.”

“She will need a Season in London,” he said, unable to hide his grimace. “It occurred to me a few weeks ago that apprehending Freddie Payne could no longer be my focus. Emily is—and must always be—my priority.”

“And so you had her enter Society wearing your mother’s made-over dress.”

He groaned. “It was awful.”

“It was rather.” She squeezed his hand and smiled. Warmth spread from his fingertips to his chest. “But the good news is that it shall never happen again.”

“Ah, so says the young lady who is currently wearing her maid’s attire.”

A warning look flashed in her eyes. “One word more about my ankles and I shall no longer consider you my friend.”

He laughed. It was a marvelous, wonderfully freeing feeling. He had told Phoebe about his virtually penniless state and the man who had caused it, and yet, he could laugh. Up until this very moment, he had not thought those things could ever coexist.

The sound of a horse’s hooves brought him back to his situation. He loosened his hold on Phoebe’s hand. She slipped her fingers out from between his and stepped away. Missing her touch immediately, he extended his arm.

“My sleeve is dirty, but may I walk you out to your horse?”

Her cheeks turned the delightful color of pink that he was coming to love. “Seeing as my gloves are dirtier than they have ever been before, I fear the risk is greater for you, my lord.”

“I am willing to take the chance,” he said.

She smiled and set her hand upon his arm. “As am I.”

Chapter 23

Freddie had been traveling through Berkshire’s rolling hills for some time. The gradually fading light indicated that evening was coming on, and he knew he could not be far from Charwell Park. He watched the countryside go by through the window of his rented carriage. Not only did he need to keep up the appearance of a well-to-do gentleman, but he also needed a fast getaway vehicle. As soon as his business was completed with Mr. Hadford, he would be on his way. Being at the bank first thing in the morning was imperative. He knew from experience that both he and the money needed to be long gone before any questions arose about the transaction.

The rooftop of a familiar house came into view. Dunsbourne Manor. Freddie had not realized that Charwell Park and Dunsbourne Manor were located so close to each other. It was remarkable that the area could boast two overly trusting gentlemen with more money than sense. He leaned back in the upholstered seat with a satisfied smile. Lord Dunsbourne’s deep coffers had enabled him to live in grand style for years. Once Mr. Hadford handed over his money, Freddie would be well on his way to enjoying those same luxuries again.

The carriage slowed and turned off the main thoroughfare and onto a gravel drive. Freddie watched as a large redbrick house came into view. He eyed the steady stream of smoke rising from several chimneys. It appeared that no expense was spared on heating the large house. He hoped the same could be said for the meal they planned to serve this evening.

Sliding the eye patch over his eye, he took a moment to reclaim his current role. Edward Trevors. Aged businessman and chronic gambler. Guilty of defrauding Willem den Haan. He cleared his throat, preparing to speak in a lower register. His stomach churned with excitement. Perhaps, had he not discovered a more profitable use for his considerable talents, he would have gone into the theatre. Playing a part was a thrill.

The carriage came to a stop before the shallow steps that led to the manor’s wide front doors. Immediately, the doors opened, and Hadford appeared, a butler standing unobtrusively behind him. Freddie pressed his hat onto his wigged head and waited for the driver to open the carriage door. Then taking his cane in one hand, he slowly descended the vehicle.

“Mr. Trevors,” Hadford said, stepping forward. “Welcome to Charwell Park.”

“Good evening, Hadford. Very good of you to invite me.”

“Of course.” Hadford gestured toward the door and slowed his pace to match Freddie’s uneven amble. “Please, come in.”

They walked into a large hall. Marble tile covered the floor, and large paintings hung on the walls. A sweeping banister rail followed the wide staircase up to the next floor, and currently descending the stairs was a stunningly attractive young lady.

“Ah, Phoebe,” Hadford said. “Come meet our guest.”

The young lady glided down the remaining stairs in her lace and floral gown and joined them in the hall.

“Mr. Trevors, this is my daughter, Miss Phoebe Hadford. Phoebe, this is Mr. Trevors, joining us from London.”