as she swept up the path and into the house.
* * *
When Adam stalked into the breakfast room a quarter of an hour later, Nicholas was sprawled in a chair, still in his dressing gown, holding a cup of coffee.
‘How was the tour of childhood pastures? The coffee’s fresh—’ Nicholas said, but broke off as he registered Adam’s expression. ‘Adam? What’s to? Did something happen? Did you come across the beauty?’
Adam shrugged and poured himself some coffee.
‘I came across the full cast of the Mowbray farce and managed to make a fool of myself.’
‘In front of the beauty?’
‘No. I insulted Miss Drake.’
Nicholas’s brows rose.
‘She of the Hungry Tree? How did you manage to insult her? Did she ask you for help with Percy again?’
‘No. I didn’t give her the chance.’
The silence stretched out for a moment and then Adam continued.
‘I don’t know why I did it. I’m just so tired of all the games people play here. The sooner I’m back in London, or frankly, out of England again, the better. But I shouldn’t have taken it out on her. She is just doing what everyone else does. It’s not her fault she is so desperate to conform.’
‘Well, then, apologise. You’ve annoyed more than your fair share of women these past years, Adam, and you always seem able to get round them in the end.’
Adam met his friend’s gaze.
‘This isn’t the same.’
‘Fine. You’ll probably be antagonising most of the neighbourhood in short order anyway, so might as well start sooner rather than later. Anyway, I’m off to dress and then we’ll go for a good gallop. It will clear your mind.’
Adam sighed and put down his glass.
‘A gallop might be a good idea. There’s an excellent run across the fields to Mare’s Rise. Just be careful of the wooded area once we cross the first field, it gets very narrow between the trees for a hundred yards or so before opening up again.’
‘Good. I’ll let you win this time, since you’re in a foul mood. No leniency the next.’
Adam shook his head, grinning reluctantly.
‘Hubris unbound. Have you ever won yet?’
‘It’s not you, it’s Thunder. He’s an unfair advantage. He’s like that Greek god horse in the Odyssey, you know, Poseidon’s brat. What’s its name? Marmion?’
‘Arion, in the Iliad. And you’ve just given me an idea.’
‘I have? Is it clever? I knew I’d be good for something.’
‘Go and get dressed,’ Adam suggested, unimpressed.
‘This came for you, miss.’ Betsy laid a small paper-wrapped package on Alyssa’s desk and stood back expectantly. Alyssa looked up from her writing, surprised.
‘For me? From where?’
‘I think it was one of the new footmen from Delacort Hall, miss, but I couldn’t rightly say. I did ask whether it was meant for Mr Drake, but he said, no, it was for Miss Drake.’
Alyssa put down her pen and reached hesitantly for the package and then paused, glancing up.
‘Thank you, Betsy. That is all.’
Betsy withdrew, clearly disappointed to be sent out before the unveiling, and Alyssa sighed. There was no way Betsy would keep this choice piece of gossip to herself and goodness knew what people would make of it. Alone, she untied the package to reveal a small silk pouch with something flat and firm inside. She emptied it on to the desk and an ancient silver coin rolled out and finally settled, showing a standing female figure holding a branch and sceptre. Two thousand years had rubbed away at the letters, but the word ‘Clementia’ was still visible encircling the figure.
She stared at this amazing treasure, a tribute to the Roman goddess of clemency and forgiveness, her heart thumping uncomfortably. After a moment she pressed the tips of her fingers to her eyes, wishing she wasn’t such a fool. It was ridiculous to cry. It was ridiculous to feel anything because of him. She knew this gesture meant nothing. Selfish people were very good at manipulation. Her father was a master at interspersing his domineering commands with clever wheedling and Rowena usually managed to convince everyone around her to do precisely what she wanted in the end. Ten years ago Alyssa had believed Adam was very different, but that had been as much a fiction as any adventure tale she had ever read.
Well, she was through with selfish people who did what they pleased and then thought they could manipulate their victims into forgiving them. She was not a child any longer and she would give no one such power over her ever again. Adam was not a man worth risking her heart over a second time, even in the extremely unlikely event someone like him, who had enjoyed the favours of beautiful women all around the globe, might be interested in a thoroughly provincial oddity who was only mildly pretty. She shoved the coin back into its little pouch. She would return it to Lord Delacort as soon as possible. In a couple of weeks he would be gone from Mowbray once again and everything would return to normal.
* * *
The following morning, Alyssa dressed for walking and set out towards Mare’s Rise. She had debated how to return the coin in the most discreet manner possible, which meant she couldn’t have Betsy deliver it or send it by post. She tried to imagine what the gossipy postmaster, Mr Curtis, would make of it if she asked to send a package to Lord Delacort. Finally she decided her best chance was to waylay Lord Delacort near Mare’s Rise. It was common knowledge he had taken to galloping his thoroughbred, Thunder, along the straight stretch past the rise every morning and this was likely to be her best chance to see him alone and be able to return the coin privately.
It did not take her long to reach Mare’s Rise and before she had even made it to the top she heard the pulse of hooves approaching. She stood on the crest of the small hillock and watched as Thunder lived up to his name, moving across the field towards the lane that ran through the woods so fast he hardly seemed to need the ground beneath him to stay in motion. Rider and horse were beautiful together, she thought. Then they disappeared into the trees. She started walking down the rise, watching the point where they should come into sight again, then stopped abruptly.
The squeal of the horse was so unexpected she wondered if it was perhaps a bird’s cry. Then she picked up her skirt and ran the rest of the way, forcing her way through the low, tight trees and brush that lined the path.
Thunder was standing over Adam and she could hardly see the man, only that he was stretched out on his side on the ground, unmoving. Thunder raised his head at her approach and nickered and Alyssa saw Adam was already raising himself on one elbow. But she didn’t stop running until she had reached them.
‘Are you all right?’ she gasped, clutching her side.
