“Your brother, I believe, is in Dorset?”
“What?” she spluttered, bristling with indignation. “How do you know about Freddie?”
“You are on good terms with… Freddie?”
“Yes, but I don’t…”
“Then you should go to him as soon as possible. Today would be best.”
The effrontery!Aware her mouth had dropped open, she tightened her lips. Should she merely agree just to placate him? No! She’d done enough of that in her life. She gathered what remained of her dignity and glared at him. “Are you ordering me?”
Montsimon sighed. “I am not,” he said in the mild tone she had come to distrust. “You are free to do whatever you wish, of course. But I am advising you to leave, for a very good reason.”
“Oh? What reason is that?”
“You seem to have something Crowthorne and Woodruff want.”
She shrugged, bewildered. “But I don’t. I’m sure I don’t.”
“It is to do with Brookwood.”
“I have nothing of my husband’s. Everything was left to his heir, including his debts. Let them ask Aubrey if he has whatever it is at Brookwood Park.”
“They seem to believe you have it.”
She folded her arms. “Let them ask me then. I shall be only too pleased to answer their questions, and as I’m in London, they know where to find me.” She stiffened as Montsimon’s gaze took the measure of her. Whatwashe thinking?
“You don’t seem to realize how much danger you are in,” he said after a long pause.
She scowled at him. “I’m in danger of losing my reputation and of losing the house I love. But I shall deal with it and not place myself in such an invidious position again. I grant you that last night was foolish. I don’t usually make mistakes on that grand a scale.”
“I’m not concerned with your reputation.” The force behind his raised voice made her start. “I am talking about your life.”
A cold shiver rushed down her spine. Althea licked her lower lip. “Isn’t that a little melodramatic my lord? Tell me why.”
“You’ll have to trust me. Until I learn more.”
She was not the trusting sort. “Then explain this, if you please. Why wereyouin the garden at Manchester Square?”
“I am interested in Crowthorne myself, but for a different reason.”
“What reason?” She leaned forward. “Would it help me to learn of it? I might use it to persuade Crowthorne to give up his quest.”
He shook his head. “It’s none of your concern.”
Althea had had enough. “And neither is my life, and what I choose to do with it, concern you, my lord.” She stood. “I bid you good day.”
Forced to rise with her, Montsimon towered over her. A faint glint of humor lit his eyes and a corner of his mouth quirked. “I expected as much from you, Lady Brookwood.”
“Then you’ve not been disappointed.”
She found it difficult to dismiss his boldly intimating presence as she pulled the bell cord. “Lord Montsimon is leaving,” she said when Butterworth entered.
Montsimon bowed. “Good day, Lady Brookwood. Please think seriously about what I told you. I do not say it lightly.” He glanced at the butler. “I’m sorry I can offer no clearer explanation at this time.”
She watched him follow Butterworth from the room, his long strides carrying him out the door with speed. She felt little satisfaction that he had meekly obeyed her without further argument. Not for one moment did she believe that she had won this round.
She roamed the room, straightening the matching Delft urns at each side of the mantelpiece and plumping the cushions on the sofa. She caught her expression in the gilt mirror and blanched. Her eyes looked like a deer’s facing the hunter. Although she’d die rather than admit it, shehadtaken in Montsimon’s warning. But even if her life was in danger, she could not abandon her fight to keep her home. For to do so would sink her into total despair.
