Page 85 of An Alleged Rogue

“I tried to warn you, Mother.”

Her mother moved to sit beside her and studied her carefully. “You truly do not care for the man, do you?”

“No, Mother. I do not. Quite apart from his conceited nature, I think it is most likely that Mr. Webb is the originator and the propagator of the awful rumors that have plagued Lord Dunsbourne and Miss Norton for years.”

Her mother considered Phoebe’s assertion. “I would agree that Mr. Webb seems to have little good to say about the baron.” She fiddled with a piece of lace at her sleeve. “Nevertheless, your father seems to trust Lord Dunsbourne.”

“Yes,” Phoebe said. “As do I.”

Her mother was still pondering. “After all, your father would not have traveled all the way to London with the baron if he harbored doubts as to the gentleman’s character, would he?”

Phoebe allowed herself a small smile. She had seen her mother work through her thoughts like this many times before.

“I am quite sure Father would side with Lord Dunsbourne on this matter.”

Her mother nodded. “Well then, if both of you feel that way, it seems to me that I should do the same.”

“I think it would be for the best.”

Her mother sniffed. “I did not want your father to take up attending the races anyway.”

Phoebe leaned over and placed a soft kiss on her mother’s cheek. Her mother was a stickler for propriety, but given enough time to consider a ticklish matter, her natural inclination was to side with that which was right and fair.

“There. You see? We are in agreement on something else,” Phoebe said.

Her mother dismissed her comment with a flick of her hand, but Phoebe saw the hint of a smile in her eyes.

“You are impossible. But if you are still of a mind to take a walk, you had best go right away. Evening will be here before we know it.”

She was right. And Phoebe desperately needed to clear her head.

“Thank you, Mother. I will not be gone long.”

“Very well.” Her mother reached for her stitchery. “All I ask is that you do not pace outside the drawing room windows.”

Phoebe chuckled and rose to her feet. “For your sake alone, I shall avoid this side of the house entirely.”

Fewer than ten minutes later, dressed in her hat and blue redingote, Phoebe headed out across the lawn and away from the drawing room. She had not given much thought to her direction before leaving the house, but it was not wholly surprising that her feet instinctively walked toward the footpath that led across the fields and through the woods to Dunsbourne Manor.

Memories of the first time she had taken this trail on horseback assailed her as she walked. It had been only a few weeks ago, and yet so much had changed since then. The ground was now covered in golden-brown leaves, and the late afternoon sun shone through partially bare branches. And when she reached the crest of the hill where she had stopped to view Dunsbourne Manor, her emotions swelled. The view remained very much the same, but her perspective had altered completely.

She had come to love the beautiful home and the people in it.

Her breath caught in her throat. Yes. There could be no denying the sentiment that filled her as she looked down on the straw-covered apple tumps at the edge of the orchard, the open doors of the cart shed, and the sunlight reflecting off the house windows. Emily had become the younger sister she had never known. Henry and Oliver were her trusty friends. She could even claim a fondness for Miss Glover that might—on a particularly good day—be reciprocated.

And as for Adam . . . her throat tightened. There were several gentlemen of her acquaintance whom she admired, but she had never felt for them what she felt for Adam. He had been gone for less than a day, and yet she ached to see him again.

Her thoughts returned to Emily. Not knowing exactly why her brother had suddenly disappeared to London, she was likely feeling unsettled as well. Perhaps they would be a good distraction for each other. Phoebe glanced at the sky. The sun was beginning its descent, but there was still time to visit Dunsbourne Manor if she was quick about it.

The decision made, she hurried down the leaf-covered path to the river and the footpath that followed it. Picking up her skirts, she ran through the orchard, across the lawn, and around to the front of the house. When she reached the drive, Phoebe slowed her pace to a walk, and by the time she reached the front steps, her breathing was almost back to normal. She knocked on the door. Moments later, Thompson opened it. Phoebe greeted him with a smile, and his blue eyes warmed.

“Good afternoon, Miss Hadford. Do come in.”

Chapter 27

Freddie tied his horse to a tree at the top of the rise and studied the lay of the land in the fading light of early evening. He had approached Dunsbourne Manor from the rear, following a footpath the local innkeeper had suggested when Freddie had stopped at his establishment on the pretext of wanting food. It was amazing how much the man had been willing to share after Freddie had complimented him on his watery stew and day-old bread. Learning of this public access to the baron’s land had been a gift; discovering that the baron retained very few servants had been the bow on the top.

The manor stood in a hollow surrounded by fields and woodland. There were a couple of outbuildings not too far from the main house, and beyond them was an enormous orchard. Freddie noted the browning leaves on the trees and the straw-covered mounds lined up at the edge of the orchard, and for the first time since he’d entered the bank that morning, he smiled. It was perfect. There was enough kindling and wood in Lord Dunsbourne’s orchard to fuel a fire large enough to ultimately consume everything the baron owned. All it needed was one or two well-placed sparks.