Page 31 of The Remarkable Myth of a Nameless Lady
Alicia bit back a scream. Without giving herself time to think she picked up the heaviest thing at hand, a large spyglass lying upon the tabletop and hefted it, with the intent of bashing senseless whomever lurked within the study of her employer.
She swung the spyglass back and nearly killed herself when she drew herself up short suddenly, as the scoring on the boot nearest her gave her a rather horrifying realization of just who was lurking within the draperies.
“Father!”
The spyglass clattered to the floor, thankfully cushioned by the thick carpeting as she flung herself forward and tore the drapery back to reveal the face of Robert Price.
“Daughter, fancy seeing you here!” Her father stepped into the room, brushing dust from his sleeve with the ease of a man who might have come to call, not one who had been found where he most decidedly did not belong.
“Dinna be ‘daughter-ing’ me!” Alicia ground out through gritted teeth as she darted for the door and shut it after a quick glance into the hallway beyond to make sure that no one had seen. “Whatever are you doing here?”
“Well, seeing as how my only daughter has betrayed me so completely, is it any wonder that I am forced to take more radical measures?” He dug around in his pocket and came up with a folded piece of paper which he waved under her nose. “You’ve given me a poor list, gal. Why, half the names on it are nonsense and the other half names of those long dead and gone from this world.”
“I am positive that the list was accurate. Why I…Let me see that!” She tried to rip the paper from his hand, but he brushed aside her attempt, replacing the document in the pocket from whence it had come.
“No bother, no bother. I found what I needed well enough. Though I’m sore disappointed in you. What your brother would think, to have played me so false.”
“Found what you needed…” Her eyes went to the desk, seeing nothing amiss. It was the shelf behind she should have noticed upon coming into the room. The books there were tumbled every which way on the bottom shelf, one lying open with several pages obviously torn from the ledger.
Alicia shot a look at the door, terrified lest someone come in that this moment. “Father, you need to give those pages back to me. You have no idea—”
He stepped toward her, grabbing her roughly by the arm, and pulling her up until her feet were near off the ground. He bent his head until they were nose to nose, his foul breath causing her to flinch away. “I have more idea what’s at stake here than you seem to, my girl. It’s time you learned to do what you were told.”
His grip on her arm was excruciating. “Father…it hurts…” she said through tears, struggling to get free.
He shook her once, hard enough so that it felt like her teeth were rattling in her head. “I will do more than this should you cross me again. To think your brother was willing to die for the cause and you sniveling coward of a girl would rather deceive me to help the very ones who put the shot through his head.”
“He was nae shot…He died of dysentery…you know that.”
One hand lashed out, striking her hard enough across the cheek to have her seeing stars. “They might well have shot him,” her father muttered, and cast her to the ground. He might well have spit upon her, his contempt was so great.
Alicia lay crying where she lay, furious at him, at herself for not fighting back, though she knew from experience that to get up would only mean being struck down again. “I gave you the list from the Lady’s own desk,” she said, though there was a hint of doubt in her voice and her father heard it.
“You never got it from the Englishwoman,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “It was given you, by a man no doubt. One of these high and mighty English officers, perhaps? Elias had a thought you were working with someone here. Treasonous slattern! Hedge creeper!”
“No! I…” Alicia scrambled to her knees, grabbing at her father’s hand. “I swear to you…”
He backhanded her, hard, sending her into a chair. For the second time she was left stunned, ears ringing, only this time he was not waiting to see whether she got up again or no. He turned to go, fumbling with the latch at the window.
“I shall not be seeing you again,” her father muttered, one foot on the windowsill, the other already outside. “As far as I am concerned, I have no daughter.”
With that he disappeared, bold as you please, into the garden beyond, as though he had every right to do so. She sat up, one hand pressed to her face where he’d struck her, the dull ache in her jaw nothing compared to the pain in her heart.
Chapter 23
What had she done? For the sake of…what exactly…had she betrayed her own flesh and blood. For love? She scoffed at the thought. Her feelings toward the Duke were nothing more than an infatuation brought about by the fact that he’d shown her kindness. They’d forged an alliance.
Only he’d betrayed her. That list!
Alicia brushed angrily at the tears that coursed down her cheeks. Half in a daze, she got up to straighten the books, pausing over the defaced volume, rifling through the defaced pages, trying to figure out what it was that her father had taken. This was no list of partygoers. In fact, it seemed a ledger of names, with amounts next to them.
She studied the words through a sheen of tears, but could make no sense of it. An employee roster or detail regarding payment for goods sold? To her mind, the book seemed completely unimportant, with the dates next to the amounts covering several months during a time period a dozen years past.
She closed the book thoughtfully and replaced it on the shelf. It slid into its spot just as the door behind her opened.
Thankful that the Duke had returned after all, Alicia’s head shot up and discovered just how ungraceful she was when she tried to rise. She’d wrenched her back when she’d fallen and so her concentration was on the desk, which she had to use to leverage herself to her feet, and not on the one who’d come in.
“I am most thankful you came after all. I was afraid you would not be able to get away…” she said, her smile faltering as she realized it was not the Duke after all who stood framed in the doorway, but Mistress Marigold, who looked most unhappy to find her there.
