The country dance afterward gave him a chance to settle down, and more importantly, soothe Phoebe into a calmer mood. She said very little until they had finished, but then said, “Thank you. Nobody did that for me before.”
A quite unrealistic gratification took hold of him.
* * * *
Resigned to his fate far more happily than he wanted to examine, Leo called at the Childers house the next day.
Awkward family members could be handled, and they would have to be, since it appeared he wanted Phoebe more than was advisable. Last night only confirmed his desire for her. He would not go back on this decision. The scene still confused him, but he would get to the bottom of it.
He went one step further toward committing himself to her, by discussing the marriage contract with her father. He proved of more sense than he had first supposed and took his duty of care to his daughter seriously. Leo was impressed. Afterward, he obtained permission to wait in a parlor upstairs where he could see Phoebe for a precious half hour. With the door open and a footman outside.
But after he was shown into a comfortable parlor, the first person to enter the room was Lucinda. Alone. Suspecting trouble, he backed away, but she kept coming. Today she wore yellow, a gown he vaguely recognized. Had she borrowed something of Phoebe’s? He could have sworn he’d seen her in that gown. But sisters often shared, so perhaps that was the case. He would be charitable and believe that. But not charitable enough to entertain this girl for long.
She dipped into a low curtsey. “Your Grace, Papa asked me to tell you that he will be with you directly. He is sorry he wasn’t here to greet you.”
“I have seen your father, thank you. Where is Phoebe?”
“Mama took her out shopping. She should return very soon. I had a sore throat, so I stayed at home.” She touched her fingers to the hollow at the front of her neck. “Should you like something to drink? Refreshments?”
He glanced at the brandy decanter. “I am not in need of anything.” Too late, he recalled that if he had asked for tea or some such, she’d have had to leave the room to find a servant. What a rag-mannered family this was! And he was seriously allying himself to it? Saddling himself with constant headaches for the rest of his life? Perhaps he could find someone willing to marry Lucinda. She was pretty enough, after all.
When he thought about it, his main objections lay with the younger sister. She was a young eighteen, indulged and without the manners or intelligence that made her acceptable. She needed polish, but he would not be the person to give it to her.
He made a perfunctory bow. “I will return later, since I have called at an inconvenient time.” Except that he had not. Phoebe had known he was coming, so why had she gone out? He quelled his irritation. Having stated that he would visit, would it not have been incumbent on someone to have waited for him? Even Phoebe?
Hastily Lucinda moved to stand in front of the door. “No, pray don’t go.”
Since he had the choice of forcibly putting her aside or staying where he was, he would wait her out, unless she tried to close the door or otherwise compromise him.
Lucinda moved farther into the room until she was standing before him. She glanced up at him, then down again, as if she could not bear to meet his direct gaze, a trick he had confronted many times before. Tedious flirtatious ploys that he disliked intensely. “Sir, I would like a private word.”
He glanced at the open door and sighed. “Yes?”
“I have to tell you that Phoebe and Marcus have been quite devoted for many years now. Everyone expected them to make a match of it, and Marcus came to London on the expectation of completing their union.”
Did he indeed? Would Phoebe have encouraged Leo if that was the truth? No, she would have told him so at the earliest opportunity. “Did Phoebe know of this devotion?”
Her mischievous smile said so. “Of course she did. But she was completely overwhelmed by you. I have to admit I understand that, having seen you in person…”
Another worshipful glance at his face followed, but this time she kept her celestial gaze fully fixed on him. “I mean, I can believe it. But Marcus is incensed. He feels hurt and angry. I only warn you of this, because he will come to you again, and dear sir, I would not have you hurt for the world.” Lifting her hand, she spread her palm over his chest. Leo resisted the urge to step back and rid himself of her touch until she had shown her play. But this far and no further. “I have developed quite an…interest in you myself. I have rarely met a man so handsome.” Her voice lowered to a seductive purr.
Not a trace of a flush marred her soft skin. Phoebe would be pink with embarrassment by now. “Marcus will press his suit, and I am sure he will prevail. He knows, and Phoebe does too, that they belong together. But you must not be left with a broken heart, dear sir, or humiliated by a country squire. To counter that, I thought perhaps we could pretend we were interested in each other. But it would not be pretense—would it?” Her expression spoke of complete devotion, if not adoration.
Basically, she was making a move to supplant her sister in his affections. Apart from that grisly fate being completely impossible, Leo felt sorry for Phoebe, to have such a scheming sister. A suspicion crossed his mind. Had she deliberately rid herself of her sister and her mother?
Lucinda had planted a seed of doubt in his mind. If Phoebe honestly preferred Callow, then naturally he would let her go, despite his desire for her. But she had never shown a preference, indeed, quite the contrary. After all, how much did he truly know about her? With most of the young ladies he’d been linked with, he knew them well, had grown up with them.
No. That was foolish. He dismissed the suspicion without a qualm. With this girl gazing at him as if the sun rose in his eyes, he recognized her tawdry appeal. She was pretty, but she was by no means tempting. He knew what he wanted, and it wasn’t this minx.
He placed his hands over hers and plucked them off his chest, immediately releasing them and then moving away so she could not replace them.
Time he put her straight, but he would not assume his ducal air to tell her. He did not need it. “I have tried to give you the benefit of the doubt, Miss North, but I find that only straight talking will give you the answer you need. My dear girl, I would not marry you were you to change places with Miss Childers, with all her wealth. You have nothing that appeals to me, or my requirements for a wife.”
Her face fell and tears glimmered in her eyes. But that would not deter him.
“I look for graciousness, intelligence, and beauty. I found those in Phoebe, but you have some way to go before you come anywhere near her. If you ever do.”
He had also found a woman he could lose himself in, but he would not tell this girl his innermost feelings. She did not deserve that. He glanced again at the brandy. It was even more tempting now.
“I thought you would have more sympathy than that.” She began crying in earnest. Thank goodness she had a handkerchief. Any moment he expected her irate father to stride in and demand that he did the right thing, a ploy he was particularly bored with by now.
Again, that niggle when he recalled how he and Phoebe had met. Impatiently he cast the notion aside. Phoebe was made of finer stuff. “Well, I have not. If you care for Callow so much, perhaps you should marry him. But I take leave to tell you that you are unlikely to find a man of true quality to marry if you continue to deploy every strategy you can think of. You do not have the skill to carry it off.”
“Oh, like Phoebe?” She glared at him over her now sadly crumpled handkerchief. “She did it to you, did she not? Waylaid you privately and forced you into announcing the betrothal?”
He recalled that evening vividly. “No, she was falsely accused of stealing a valuable necklace. Or had you forgotten that part?”
She flapped her hand. “Oh pooh, that was nothing! A ploy. She could have just denied it and left it there. With Ange
la’s support, she’d have recovered.”
Considering Lady Latimer was still accusing Phoebe to anyone who would listen, he doubted it. More likely her ladyship would have dragged Angela Childers down with Phoebe. She had never liked Miss Childers’s wealth or her position in society. Did Lucinda care so little for Phoebe?
“Besides,” the girl continued, “you could have bought her ten diamond necklaces.”
“But not that one,” he snapped. “It was—is—a family heirloom.”
The tears continued. “I swear, Duke, it was when I first set eyes on you. I knew you were mine, that we should be together. I do not know how Phoebe persuaded you, but I will not hold it against you when you come to your senses. You are mine.”
Now she was rambling. However, she had moved away from the door. He eyed it like a lion spying the open door of its cage. He took his chance and deftly reached his escape. His business with Phoebe’s father was done, so he’d call back to see his betrothed later.
He would spend the rest of the time at his club, the only refuge he trusted anymore.
* * * *
Phoebe had allowed her mother to take her out on a shopping expedition on the understanding that they would return after Leo had completed his conversation with her father. “You know what that entails,” her mother said as they rattled away in Angela’s town coach. “We must give him and your papa a chance to have a proper discussion. Women have no part in that. Come out for a few hours, and we will return in time for you to see your duke before he leaves.”
Phoebe saw the sense in that, although she disliked the assumption that she would not want a part in the discussion about what would be her future. The practical considerations concerned her. She did not want her father demanding a settlement or providing too high a dowry.
If this was continuing. For the first time, she dared think about a future with Leo. The public attention would be a true trial, but if that meant she got him, it would be worth it. She would not shame him by any hint of poor behavior, and that included her stammer. She would conquer it once more. It had been well on the way out of her life when she had arrived in London, but the change in her circumstances had brought it back, and she was fighting a battle she had thought she’d conquered.
What she had done once, she could do again.
Could she be a duchess? As she followed her mother out to the carriage, she pondered her fate. When she arrived back at this house, would she be one step closer to her dream? Not to be a duchess, but to be Leo’s wife. She refused to deny the truth any longer. He was the one she wanted. Nobody else. If she could have him, she’d take him, and cope with everything else later. If she wasn’t in love with Leo already, she was well on the way to it. She had no way of knowing. Was this how love happened?
Her shadow, the footman Leo had assigned to follow her, swung up behind. Linton was a man of a certain age, but of a powerful build. Every time she went out, so did he. His presence was almost unnerving.
As the carriage rattled its way over the cobbles of a side street, she barely noticed the jolting as her mother grumbled. “I had meant to visit some of the places Angela told me of, and fit Lucinda with a few new gowns. Her sore throat makes that difficult.” She brightened. “But you have excellent taste, dear Phoebe. Perhaps I am better with you by my side. I have to admit that Lucinda has the most blinding taste in clothes. Between us we may contrive to find her a few more suitable outfits for a young girl just making her come-out.”
“She always had a lively taste,” Phoebe admitted carefully. Since Lucinda tended to rip up at any aspersions she perceived, Phoebe had grown into the habit of avoiding giving her opinion. “But only if you say that you chose the garments, Mama. Because if she knows I had a hand in the selections, she will most likely refuse to countenance them.”
Her mother sighed. “That is true. But yes, I can say I chose them for her. Then if we can persuade Angela’s maid to take a hand in the fitting and alterations, she will no doubt be flattered by the attention and a lot less trouble.” She patted Phoebe’s hand. “I cannot imagine why you would take Leomore over dear Sir Marcus. He truly wants you, you know. Although I cannot deny you have made yourself a brilliant match. Lucinda is far more the duke’s style.”
She had indeed, but not in the way her mother meant. Comparing Leo with Marcus was almost laughable. She had been a playmate to Marcus, which meant she had done his fetching and carrying, until she’d learned to avoid him. At first his looks attracted her, but they held every girl in the neighborhood, and he was not fussy which one he paid most attention to. He was too full of his own importance to care about anyone else. While Leo knew what he was and what his rank demanded of him, she had never once seen that superiority and condescension some people had warned her about. Not directed at herself, anyway.
Leo would make her happy, so if he and Marcus could just change places, she would be content. But then, Leo wouldn’t be Leo, he’d be somebody else. The conundrum made her smile, and her mother smiled back. “We will ensure you don’t disgrace the family, my dear. But let us get Lucinda outfitted first, then she will stop demanding quite so much. She covets the clothes Angela gave you, which I have to say would not suit her at all. We will naturally compensate Angela in some way.”
Phoebe found her mother’s habit of thinking aloud restful. She could lose herself in her own thoughts while her mother rattled on. But when they arrived at the Oxford Street drapery shop Angela had recommended, Lady North was all business. Leading the way inside, she imperiously demanded to see what the draper had to offer, contemptuously waving away the first partially made garments offered by the fawning shopkeeper. “None of those will do. These are for my other daughter. She is a lovely fair blonde, and eighteen years old. This is my oldest daughter, soon to become the Duchess of Leomore.”
That did the trick. An acutely embarrassed Phoebe watched the man fetch more sumptuous garments, and then offer her gowns and petticoats that were admittedly attractive. But she had learned from Angela in her short stay in London. Phoebe wouldn’t have accepted any of them. She’d far rather have one very good gown, made of top quality fabrics and decorated with perfect embroidery and trim.
Keeping her counsel, she helped her mother choose six gowns, which would keep Lucinda happy. They were half-made, left so the buyer could adjust them to their size, so Angela’s maid would be busy. Bright colors, shiny fabrics and plenty of brilliants scattered over the surface. Clothes Phoebe would never have accepted, because of the plethora of decoration, but Lucinda would love them.
“She may choose the hats herself, but I would like to buy her some more gloves and stockings,” Lady North observed, watching through narrowed eyes as the assistants carefully wrapped her purchases in tissue paper.
“Will you not choose something for yourself?” Phoebe asked.
Her mother shot her a darkling look. “I have sufficient. I will supplement my lace. That will do.” She paused. “And then we must find your bride clothes. I will not have you going to the duke with borrowed clothing and old lace.”
Phoebe demurred. “I have plenty.”
“Indeed? Allow me to differ. We will make a start on the items you need.”
“I do require some underwear and perhaps a new pair of stays,” she admitted, “but do we not have to return to the house?”
Pulling out her gold watch, Lady North consulted it and tutted. “I fear you may be right. One more shop and we will return.” She patted Phoebe’s hand. “You will see your duke before he leaves.”
Was she so obvious? She must have been, for her mother to notice. As the visit had gone on, Phoebe had become more agitated, but she had thought she kept control, as always. Evidently not. Her mother, never a perceptive woman, had noticed her simmering irritation. She was deliberately havering, taking her time, and Phoebe would go back if she had to walk.
The shop assistants were taking an age
wrapping everything. “I will go outside for some air.” The shop was airless, the top of the shelves dusty. Outside the sun was shining and the clouds had cleared away. The day promised to be fine. Perhaps she could persuade Leo to take her into the park tomorrow, where they could be relatively private. She enjoyed his company so much. And she had not yet written today’s letter to him.
Their carriage waited outside, but Phoebe waved the footmen away when they snapped to attention. She would not go out of their sight. She merely wanted a few moments to compose herself and return to the draper’s with her serenity restored.
“Phoebe!”
A male voice, one she did not immediately recognize, had called her name. Someone within the carriage a little farther down the street. Cautiously, she moved along the road, keeping her distance.
Linton followed, but Phoebe waved him off when she saw who it was.
Marcus sat inside the vehicle. She breathed out in relief, although some tension remained. “Good afternoon, Phoebe my dear. Well met!”
She had to converse, and she couldn’t do it shouting across the six feet that separated her and the carriage. A plain traveling vehicle, hired, most likely. Was he leaving? Her heart lifted a little at the thought, which made pasting a smile on her face easier. “Good day, sir.”
“Oh no, Marcus, please.”
“Rules are different in the city.”
His mouth flattened. “But not between old playmates, surely? I merely wished to pass the time of day with you.”
“What are you doing at this end of Oxford Street?” Few establishments were here that would appeal to a man.
Marcus leaned back into the relative dimness of the carriage. Surely he should get out and speak to her? However, she would not cavil at that. “I had occasion to visit someone,” he said.
Phoebe allowed herself an internal smile. “Then I should not keep you.”
The Girl with the Pearl Pin Page 16
