Page 15 of Betrothal Between Enemies

‘We were both incredibly sick.’ She sighed with the memory of it. ‘It was years before I drank anything again.’

‘You were sick first.’ Apparently, Alistair couldn’t resist the goad.

‘By barely two minutes. Then you were right there beside me in the bushes casting up your own accounts.’

‘See? You’re still competing with me.’ Alistair turned his head to look at her, a teasing twinkle in his blue eyes. He wasn’t so bad when he was like this, when they were like this—not trying to out-argue the other person. ‘You were showing off at the grouse hunt. You were determined to beat me,’ he accused playfully.

She looked away. No good could come from staring into summer-sky-blue eyes after midnight and whiskey. ‘No one takes women seriously unless we shove our prowess in their faces. I am entirely unapologetic for outshooting you. If you don’t like it, you are welcome to do better.’

Somewhere down the hall, the longcase clock struck half past two. She could feel the whiskey and sleep stealing through her veins. She wouldn’t be awake much longer. ‘Alistair, you should probably go.’ Though, she did wonder how safe it would be for him to brave the balconies after the whiskey. Perhaps they could chance the hallway instead? She hadn’t saved him from the boar only to have him break his neck climbing out of her room.

A soft snore interrupted. ‘Alistair?’ She rolled to her side only to find his smiling mouth slightly open and his chest rising in the gentle rhythm of one fast asleep. She yawned. Balconies and doors had suddenly become moot points. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to rest just a little while. She could have him out of her room before Giulia arrived in the morning.

Ha. She’d stayed awake longer. Ismay leaned over him and whispered, ‘I win’, and his arm moved around her, drawing her close and settling her against his shoulder. He was warm and still carried the lingering scent of his bergamot soap. It was not entirely unpleasant to be this close to him. Damn him, even asleep he found a way to get in the last word, but at the moment she was too tired to care. She took a slow deep breath, letting the scent quiet the racket of her thoughts, letting peace find her as she drifted off to sleep. Just a short nap. Alistair could wear a person out.

* * *

He’d slept too long. Alistair knew it without opening his eyes. He could feel sunlight against his eyelids—a bright sunlight that said dawn was long past. He’d not slept in his own bed. This bed smelled of freshly laundered lavender-scented linen—a woman’s bed. Which meant he hadn’t slept alone, a point further affirmed by the warm curves pressed to his side. But who? The last he remembered he’d been talking and drinking with… Ismay! His eyes flew open, the need for haste coming to him at last. He’d fallen asleep in Ismay’s bed, and he was still there. They were still there. In bed. Together. The very last place they should be when they were trying to break an engagement.

‘Ismay, wake up.’ He shook her none too gently in his urgency. ‘We fell asleep, and then we overslept.’ He was out of bed, looking for his boots out of habit before he recalled he’d arrived barefoot.

Ismay was much faster at waking than he was and much faster to galvanise. ‘Hurry up! Giulia will be here any minute. She can’t find you here.’

‘Obviously.’ Alistair grabbed his empty flask from the bed, took a quick glance around for any other signs he’d been here and headed for the door.

‘No!’ The word came out in a step-stopping screech. ‘Someone will see you. Giulia could be in the hall even now, and you’re barefoot!’ She grabbed his hand and tugged him towards the balcony. ‘You have to go back the way you came.’ She manhandled him outside, shoving and pushing. ‘No one will see you.’

He shot her a hard look. ‘Are you really going to make me climb across the balconies in broad daylight?’ When he’d just woken up?

‘Yes. I’m not the one who fell asleep in a woman’s bedroom.’

‘This is my fault?’

‘You fell asleep first. You started it.’

Alistair grimaced. ‘You finished it. Seems like if you were the last one awake, this is more your fault than mine.’ Why hadn’t she awakened him?

‘Just go. I hear footsteps outside. I’ll see you at breakfast, and remember, stick to the plan.’ Ismay gave him a final push and shut the balcony doors in his face.

Ah yes, the damnable plan. The only protection between them and matrimony. Alistair eyed the balconies. Unless, of course, he broke his neck first.

Chapter Eight

They were breaking themselves against rocks. It had been two weeks since he’d fallen asleep in Ismay’s room and three weeks since they’d concocted their plan to break the engagement. Long enough to recognise their plan was failing, mainly because it had run up against a counterattack. The Roses simply chose to ignore their resistance by stampeding right over it like runaway horses dragging a carriage behind them, much as Thomas Rose had done that first day in the study when he’d told Alistair about the pact. The Roses had also employed the tried-and-true strategy of divide and conquer, keeping them separated for most of the day, which both served the ruse and worked against it. Mostly the latter. It was hard to disagree with someone whom you didn’t see.

Alistair spent morning until supper at the warehouse with Sir Thomas, meeting with clients and inventorying the goods shipped out by the crateload to various libraries and academic collections in England and elsewhere. To his surprise, he did not dislike the work. In fact, he was coming to take a certain pleasure in closing a deal and tracking down what a client needed. He was good with numbers, and the ledgers were no challenge, but it was the work with people that appealed to him most. Between him and Sir Thomas, there were always stories to tell around the dinner table that kept the conversation lively.

What Ismay did with her days he had no idea. Short of climbing back into her bedroom, which seemed ill-advised based on their last experience, there was no time to be alone with her. All he knew was that she arrived at supper each night, exquisitely gowned and glowering, after which the four of them went out for the evening to participate in card parties or attend musicales or the opera now that it was in season.

There was no shortage of entertainments. Naples was well-endowed when it came to the arts, and the Roses were well-known. They did not lack for company. After twenty years in the British community there, they were a social staple. It was no surprise, Alistair thought as he stood beside Sir Thomas at yet another social event—this one a musicale to hear a soprano perform privately—that word of their daughter’s engagement preceded them. Congratulations flowed each evening, at an alarming rate in Alistair’s opinion. The more people who knew, the harder it would be to get Sir Thomas to break the engagement.

Currently, the Roses showed no sign of retracting the announcement. Instead, Sir Thomas effused to others about Alistair’s performance at work, using phrases like the son I never had, which only served to strengthen the perceived bond between Alistair and the Rose family. Unfortunately, the bond was not merely perceived. Sir Thomas’s words were dangerous. They warmed him, encouraged him. He was being successful. He was enjoying life in Naples. If only this engagement wasn’t hanging over him, if only another’s happiness didn’t hinge on the outcome.

Alistair shook Lord Danton’s hand, smiling and nodding as he had all night. ‘I hope we’ll see you at the warehouse soon. I am confident we can locate the texts you are looking for.’ He might need to prove himself unsuitable for Ismay, but he would not deliberately damage Sir Thomas’s business reputation in the process.

‘I will come by the day after tomorrow, and I’ll want you to handle it personally, if you could, Mr Burke-Price.’ Lord Danton smiled broadly. ‘You’ve found yourself a good one, Rose. He’s always working, taking advantage of every opportunity even at a social event. I like that in a young man.’ Then he winked at Alistair. ‘But here’s a tip from someone who has been married for twenty-five years. Don’t work the night of your engagement party. Your bride-to-be will require all of your attention. My wife tells me the engagement party is in a few weeks at Vista Sulla Baia.’ He leaned close in male conspiracy, his voice lowered. ‘My wife also tells me no expense has been spared.’ Unease speared Alistair. He’d not known about the party. If that was true, Lord Danton’s wife was far better informed than he was. If it was true, time was of the essence.

Sir Thomas simply chuckled, his words a validation of Danton’s inquiry. ‘I have only the one daughter to spoil, unlike yourself.’ Alarm dug its talons deeper into Alistair. Sir Thomas had not denied it. If Lady Danton knew, who else knew? All of Naples? It was starting to seem likely. He and Ismay were not going to get out of this if something didn’t change, and fast.