A Perfect Deception Read online

  “Was he a pleasant man?” asked Miss Randall, leaning over Daphne to grasp a pair of white gloves from the table.

  He was not unpleasant… actually, he was quite handsome, although his sense of humor seemed a bit dry. Daphne laughed to herself. Glancing up, she caught Miss Randall staring at her peculiarly. “Acceptably so.”

  “Married?”

  “He is a widow, his wife passed away several years ago. He’s only just returned to Wiltshire.”

  “That sounds promising,” Miss Randall smiled and straightened, tugging her gloves over her fingers.

  Miss Hastings tilted her head, a pensive expression on her face. Leaning over, she dropped her voice to a whisper. “If he is the wrong Mr. Reid, it does not matter how attractive you find him.”

  Daphne’s eyes flicked toward Miss Randall, who posed gracefully on one foot while Miss Larson knelt next to her, pulling on her shoe. Scooting closer on the bench, Daphne murmured her response, “If he is the only Mr. Reid who shows me favor, it does not matter what my feelings are regarding the match.”

  Sympathy poured from Miss Hastings. She felt the pity wrap around her shoulders—Miss Hastings knew of Mr. Reid’s fondness for Miss Randall. Daphne forced a smile to her lips. “I would be honored to receive the attention of any man. As someone with no prospects, I cannot be so proud as to disregard a potential suitor.”

  “Yet, you rejected Robert.” Miss Randall appeared behind them in the looking glass.

  “I have no intention of marrying a man who frightens me, Miss Randall.” Rising, Daphne collected her gloves from the table and spun, her eyes flashing. “I am grateful for Mr. Reid’s interference since no other man came to my rescue the morning Mr. Shirely attacked me.” A shiver raced down her spine. What would have happened had Mr. Reid not appeared?

  “Your opinion of Robert is wrong. He is a good boy.” Miss Randall stepped to Miss Clemens, planting her hands on her hips.

  “Perhaps it is you who harbors the incorrect perception,” replied Daphne, jutting out her chin. “Mr. Shirely’s intentions when he trapped me in the alley were not honorable.”

  “Ladies,” Miss Hastings stood, extending her arms widely as she gestured to both of them. “There is no need for this hostility. I propose we discontinue our discussion of Mr. Shirely, as he is not under consideration, per Aunt Abigail, Miss Clemens’ designated guardian. Our personal feelings regarding a match between Miss Clemens and Mr. Shirely are irrelevant.”

  “Of course, Miss Hastings.” Daphne nodded, extending her hand to Miss Randall. “Miss Randall, I apologize for my candor. Your experience with Mr. Shirely is obviously quite different from mine. Therefore, I propose we avoid any further conversation regarding him.”

  “I agree, Miss Clemens.” Placing her hand in Daphne’s, Miss Randall drew her into a tight embrace. “I am so thankful to have ladies as kind as you in my life. You are like sisters to me.” She sniffed and released Daphne, turning away.

  Gliding over to them, Miss Hastings slipped one arm through each of theirs. “Before Wilhelmina abandons the ball in search of us, I suggest we hurry downstairs. I would not appreciate another lecture on tardiness.”

  “Miss Larson, you may return to your chamber.” Miss Randall dismissed the slight girl with a shooing motion, escorting her to the door. “If I need you tonight, I shall let you know.”

  “Yes, Miss Randall.” Miss Larson curtsied, opened the door, and disappeared. Miss Randall followed her, floating ethereally down the hallway toward the music drifting up from the ballroom.

  “Miss Hastings?” Daphne tugged her arm, holding her back. “What if he is the wrong Mr. Reid?”

  “Have faith. I have only known Benjamin’s brother a short while, but in my experience, he is quite unpredictable. Give him the chance to prove you wrong.” She squeezed Daphne’s hand and walked toward the exit.

  Daphne nodded, limping after Miss Hastings, her heart constricting. Was he unpredictable enough to favor someone as plain as she?

  Chapter Seven

  “You owe me a secret.”

  Miss Clemens screamed and stumbled, tripping over her hem. Thomas’ hand shot out, grabbing her arm, steadying her before she toppled down the staircase. “Mr. Reid, you startled me!”

  “My apologies, it was not my intention to frighten you.” He bowed low, offering her his arm. “May I escort you to the festivities?”

  “You may.” She grinned—a quick flash—then the smile vanished. Gripping the banister tightly, Miss Clemens lifted her skirt, leaning on Thomas as she gingerly descended the staircase.

  “Why are you limping?”

  “Is that the secret you wish me to share?” she forced through clenched teeth.

  “Is it a secret?”

  Miss Clemens’ lips twitched. “The truth is not known to you or anyone else in the household, except for the other person involved in the incident.”

  Thomas arched his eyebrow. Miss Clemens had certainly followed through with her decision to act as Miss Hastings. What possible trouble could she have gotten into this afternoon? He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Who else was involved?”

  “Mr. Flannery.”

  Damn. His heart dropped. It had to involve horseback riding. “Does this also involve Shadow?”

  “It may.” Miss Clemens winced, her fingers digging into the banister. She stopped halfway down the staircase, inhaling slowly. Thomas’ eyes narrowed, his eyes sliding down Miss Clemens, locking on the small bit of ankle exposed just below her hemline. It was swollen… A grimace slipped across her face as she stepped down onto the next stair.

  If the secret was what he expected, Aidan would hear of his displeasure, loudly and possibility physically. He sighed. “That may be considered your secret.”

  “I fell off Shadow.”

  Thomas’ hand curled into a fist, darkness unfurling in his body. He’d asked Aidan to handle one simple task. How difficult was it to take care of one woman? “Where was Aidan?”

  “Standing a few meters away.” Reaching the base of the stairs, Miss Clemens paused again. Tiny beads of sweat lined her hairline, evidence of her painful struggle to pretend she was uninjured.

  “Why?” He should offer to carry her, but he knew, without asking, she would decline his proposal.

  “Because I told him I could do it myself.” She leaned against the banister, shifting her weight.

  He tilted his head. “I shall have to kill Aidan.”

  With a gasp, Miss Clemens grabbed Thomas’ wrist with both her hands, pleading, her eyes wide. “Please do not, Mr. Reid, it was not his fault.”

  “Whose fault was it?” He arched an eyebrow, expecting her to blame him.

  “It was mine,” she replied, dropping her eyes to the floor.

  Reaching out, Thomas lifted her chin until she stared into his eyes. “How have you hidden this all afternoon?”

  Miss Clemens gestured at the ballroom. “Both Miss Hastings and Miss Randall are aware.”

  “Do they know the severity of your injury?”

  “No.” Her soft response barely reached his ears. “There were more important things to focus on this afternoon.”

  Aidan appeared at the open front door, escorted into the foyer by a butler stationed on the front steps. Catching sight of Miss Clemens, Aidan’s face reddened. He swallowed and crossed the foyer, bowing low. “Miss Clemens, it is a pleasure to see you again. I hope your ankle is not giving you too much trouble this evening.”

  “It is sore, but I shall survive. Thank you for your concern, Mr. Flannery.” Miss Clemens curtsied, keeping her grip on the banister.

  “She can barely walk, Aidan,” Thomas growled, stepping forward.

  Aidan’s eyes snapped to Thomas. “She said she could dismount without assistance.”

  “I told you she had never ridden a horse before.”

  “It is against my nature to accuse a lady of lying.”

  “Mr. Reid.” Miss Clemens squeezed his arm. “Please do not admonis
h Mr. Flannery on my account.”

  Thomas glanced down; earnestness leaked from Miss Clemens’ eyes. “Were you acting as Miss Hastings again?” he asked with a shake of his head, a small grin escaping.

  Miss Clemens nodded, sinking her teeth into her lip.

  Sighing, Thomas raised his eyes to Aidan. “I suppose she pleaded her case to you.”

  “She was quite convincing,” replied Aidan. He lifted Miss Clemens’ hand to his mouth. “Will you forgive me, Miss Clemens?”

  “Mr. Flannery, how can I fault you for listening to my request?” She offered him a small smile.

  Thomas’ gaze flicked between Aidan and Miss Clemens. He had been encouraging Miss Clemens to follow Miss Hastings’ example—although he should have believed her claim to be clumsy; it seemed Miss Clemens was unable to retain her balance on anything including logs and horses—and now, this intriguing new development. Was it possible Aidan had developed an attachment to her after only a few short hours? Why would another man’s interest bother him? Because this is the first one who is worthy of her time… The thought irritated him.

  “Aidan.” Benjamin exited the ballroom, Miss Hastings on his arm. “I am pleased you decided to attend. Will the rest of your family be joining us this evening?”

  Subtle, Benjamin.

  A tight smile pulled Aidan’s lips. “Da is patrolling again. Alana volunteered to steer him away from Westwood Estate, so as not to surprise any of your guests. She called it a wedding gift.”

  “We appreciate her thoughtfulness.” Benjamin laughed.

  “Aidan, do you have a moment?” Miss Hastings asked, leaning into Benjamin.

  They seemed to be permanently joined together. Thomas first noticed during the carriage ride from London, at least one part of their bodies was always touching. His eyes skated over Benjamin; he had never seen him as happy. Perhaps there was some merit to a wife. How do you know when you want to spend the rest of your life with someone? He’d been wrong about Alana, what if he was wrong again? His fractured heart couldn’t handle another break.

  “For my favorite cousin, of course.” Aidan bowed to Miss Clemens. “I do hope you will favor me with a dance later this evening.”

  “Mr. Flannery, I would be honored.” Miss Clemens curtsied and wobbled, putting too much weight onto her ankle. She twisted toward Thomas with a groan, her face pinched.

  “How will she dance, Aidan?” Thomas asked over her head.

  “She can stand on my feet,” replied Aidan. “Or perhaps an extremely slow evening stroll in the gardens, in time to the music.”

  “Why can’t Miss Clemens dance?” asked Benjamin, the arm wrapped around Miss Hastings’ waist drawing her closer.

  “She injured her ankle horseback riding,” Miss Hastings whispered in his ear.

  A smirk crossed Benjamin’s face, his eyes flicking to Thomas. “Aunt Abigail will be furious with you. She had plans for this evening.”

  Gulping, Miss Clemens’ gaze jumped to Benjamin. “What kind of plans?”

  “I cannot say.” Smiling, he turned, leading Miss Hastings toward the study. Aidan followed them silently, closing the study door behind him.

  “I will explain to Aunt Abigail this injury was solely due to my own actions.” Miss Clemens lifted her light brown eyes to Thomas.

  He inclined his head. “What would I owe you for this championship?”

  “Another secret?”

  “What secret would you like to know?”

  “Which horse is your favorite?”

  “That is not a secret, Miss Clemens.”

  She smiled at him. “Does anyone know the answer to my question?”

  Opening his mouth, Thomas paused. “Actually, no.”

  “Then I would like to know the name.”

  “You continue to surprise me.”

  “I suppose that is a good thing.”

  “Thomas!” A gruff voice echoed through the foyer. Miss Clemens’ head snapped up, her face rouging immediately. Appearing in the doorway, Asher bowed low and entered the house, swiftly crossing the room to embrace him. “It has been a long time.”

  “Good evening, Asher.” Thomas mirrored his exuberant hug. Releasing his cousin, he gestured to Miss Clemens. “I believe you have already been introduced to Miss Clemens.”

  “We have.” Asher snapped his heels together and bowed, his eyes flicking up. “I am pleased to see you are not attempting anything foolish at the moment.”

  “Actually…” Miss Clemens blushed deeper.

  Asher straightened, a small flash of amusement passed through his eyes. “What inappropriate adventure are you attempting this evening?”

  “I am trying to dance.”

  “That sounds safe.”

  “Miss Clemens was learning how to ride horseback and fell this afternoon. Her ankle has swollen considerably since the accident,” explained Thomas.

  “A horse?” Asher arched an eyebrow. “I am surprised, Thomas. I thought you were an excellent rider.”

  “I am.” Thomas bristled.

  “Mr. Reid was not present during the incident,” Miss Clemens said quietly, her blush refusing to fade.

  Asher tilted his head. “Who was?”

  “Mr. Flannery.”

  Jerking his head toward Thomas, Asher leaned in. “Thomas scowled just now when you mentioned Aidan’s name. I can only assume his carelessness caused your accident.”

  “Mr. Flannery is not responsible for my injury,” replied Miss Clemens, stubbornly folding her arms. “The only person who deserves Mr. Reid’s ire is me. It was my decision to dismount the horse without assistance.”

  A strange light floated through Asher’s eyes. He stared at Miss Clemens, his mouth slightly open. “I am delighted to hear you say that.”

  “Why?” She tilted her head.

  “Honesty, above all else—that is what I teach my boys. It is refreshing to meet someone in society who believes the same thing.”

  “I could hardly allow Mr. Flannery to accept castigation for my actions.”

  “Actually, you could.” Asher smiled and lifted Miss Clemens hand to his mouth, dropping a chaste kiss on her glove. “Would you care to get some refreshment?”

  “Yes, thank you.” Accepting his offered arm, she leaned against him as they moved toward the ballroom. Bending down, Asher whispered in her ear. She giggled, pressing her hand against her lips as they were swallowed by the throng.

  Straining his ears, Thomas hunted through the overpowering melody of the orchestra in search of Miss Clemens’ laughter. He heard it once more, swelling over the music before it was completely drowned out.

  “Mr. Reid?”

  Spinning around, Thomas’ eyes focused on Miss Randall, who rounded the staircase from the hallway leading to the kitchens, her face pale. He stepped toward her. “Miss Randall? Is everything alright? Why have you left the ball?”

  “I have received some horrifying news.” Her faint voice died on the last word. Holding out her hand, a letter was clasped in her trembling fingers. Accepting the missive, Thomas scanned the neat cursive.

  Miss Randall,

  It was a pleasure to meet you the other evening at the masque. I am disappointed we missed each other when I called upon your house. However, your aunt and uncle were more than accommodating in your absence.

  I left a gift for you last night, but I suspect your overly protective new friends have disposed of this present already. Therefore, I will tell you what I sent… your uncle, or more specifically, his body. Your aunt will shortly join him in the afterlife.

  Do not concern yourself with my interest in your family, I have no intention of hurting you… yet. You are an exquisite creature, and I look forward to continuing our acquaintance.

  Sincerely,

  Mr. Franklin Morris

  * * *

  “Did you lie to me?” Miss Randall’s eyes darkened to amethyst.

  “I did.” Thomas pursed his lips, reading the note again. “Miss Clemens and I—”r />
  “Miss Clemens?” Interrupting, Miss Randall frowned, ripping the note from his hand. “What does Miss Clemens have to do with my uncle’s murder?”

  “Miss Clemens was taking a riding lesson with me this morning. We discovered your uncle’s body.”

  “How did he look?” Miss Randall gasped, her eyes rounding.

  Thomas licked his lips. How much should he reveal? “Your uncle was hanging from a tree.”

  “A tree!” Her hands grabbed his coat, yanking him toward her. “Why would he put Uncle Horace in a tree?”

  “It was a warning.”

  Sniffing, Miss Randall released Thomas, stepping away from him. She inhaled slowly, taking several deep breaths before spinning around again. “Why did you not tell me?”

  “We…” Words failed him. His eyes flicked up as the study door opened, relief pouring into his body. “Benjamin!”

  Exiting the study, Benjamin, his arm wrapped around Miss Hastings’ waist, looked up as Thomas called his name, the color draining from his face. “What is it?”

  “Miss Randall has received a missive… from Morris.”

  Crossing the foyer in two steps, Miss Hastings glued to his side, Benjamin held out his hand, accepting the note from Miss Randall. He perused the missive quickly, Miss Hastings peering over his arm. She gasped when she reached the end, her eyes flying up to Miss Randall.

  “Benjamin,” she murmured in his ear, “we must advise the Shirelys.”

  “Why?” asked Miss Randall. “The note was addressed to me.”

  “Your family, Miss Randall, Franklin said his interest in your family. As your uncle has no other relatives in the area, he must be referring to your aunt’s side.”

  “That makes sense,” said Thomas. “I discovered Mr. Pierce halfway between the properties. Perhaps it is a warning to both families.”

  “Robert!” Miss Randall’s hands flew to her mouth. “He saved Miss Hastings and me in the maze. He prevented Mr. Morris from killing us.”

  “Were the Shirelys invited this evening?” Turning toward Thomas, Miss Hastings arched an eyebrow.

  “I have no idea,” replied Thomas. “We should ask Mother.”