Before The Scandal by Suzanne Enoch

that in itself could signal a great deal of trouble.

    Phineas handed Saffron over to Warner and trotted up the front steps of Quence just as Lord Donnelly left the house and climbed aboard his fine chestnut gelding. “Donnelly,” he greeted, nodding.
    “Colonel Bromley,” Donnelly said, circling his mount to face Phineas, “I don’t know whether you noticed or not, but the sky is clouding up. If it should rain heavily before the irrigation is repaired, Quence might lose the east pasture for the remainder of the season.”
    “It’s unfortunate to see that your concern for Quence doesn’t extend to Roesglen,” Phin retorted, descending again to the front drive and inwardly cursing himself. Damnation. He’d forgotten about the meeting with Stuggley. And he had no one to blame but himself, because he’d wanted to see Alyse, and he’d wanted to discover why she hadn’t told anyone she’d encountered a masked Frenchman last night.
    “It’s unfortunate to see that you have no concern at all,” the viscount snapped. With a kick of his heels he sent his mount into a gallop and left the drive.
    “That doesn’t even make any sense,” Phineas muttered, sending the retreating Donnelly a rude gesture and heading up the front steps.
    Digby pulled open the door as he reached it. “Good morning again, Master Phineas.”
    “Good mor—”
    “Phin?” William’s voice echoed from down the hallway.
    He didn’t sound amused. Bloody wonderful . “On my way,” he returned, moving past the spindly butler.
    “Phin!”
    “Christ,” Phineas muttered, striding down the hallway to his brother’s office. “Apologies,” he said as he walked through the open door. “I meant to return in time for the meeting with Stuggley.”
    William, seated behind the desk with Andrews a statue at his shoulder, clenched his fist around a full cup of tea. For a bare moment Phineas thought his brother would throw it at him.
    “Digby and Andrews looked for you,” the viscount said tightly. “In case you meant to be present for the meeting.”
    “I did mean to be. I apologize, William. Were you able to resolve the issue?”
    “Yes. It was a misunderstanding between Richard and the men he’d hired. You might have simply come to me first, before you swept in and arranged for meetings and to send angry men away.”
    Phineas hid his frown. It hadn’t been a misunderstanding. If Richard Donnelly wanted to save his pride by saying so, that was one thing. But Phin didn’t like being kicked in the arse for another man’s sake. “I apologize again, then,” he said anyway. Protests wouldn’t do him any good.
    “Where were you?”
    “Riding with Alyse.”
    William blew out his breath. “Phin, a great deal has transpired in your absence. Alyse is not—”
    Someone rapped on the closed door behind him. Andrews remained unmoving behind William, so Phineas pulled it open. Gordon stood there, a wide grin on his face.
    “Beg pardon, Colonel,” he drawled in his Scots brogue, “but I got ye in to see Mr. Murdock the tailor, if ye can get yer arse there by one o’clock.”
    Phineas winced. “Thank you, Gordon,” he said. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”
    “Oh, no, Phin,” William interjected. “Mr. Murdock is quite popular with the gentry. You’d best ride your new mount into town and keep your appointment. And close the door behind you, if you please.”
    Phineas closed the door. With a glare at Gordon, he led the way back to the front door. “Damnation, Sergeant,” he grumbled, “what did I tell you about barging into rooms?”
    “I knocked, Colonel.”
    “Allow me to add, then, that you shouldn’t barge straight into conversation, either.”
    “I beg yer pardon, then, but what, precisely, is wrong with sayin’ I did as ye asked me to?”
    Yes, how could he explain that without delving into the sad story that was his youth? “Tell me , then. No one else.”
    “Bein’ a valet is a damned pit o’ vipers,