Phoebe stood over her abductor, a mallet-shaped decanter in her hand. It had not shattered, the thick glass more resilient than Callow’s skull.
He jerked his head, and Linton came fully inside the room, kicking the door closed behind him. The footman put the pistols on a nearby dresser and crossed the room to place his fingers on the pulse at the side of Callow’s neck.
Ignoring the man on the floor, Leo lifted Phoebe and held her tightly, burying his face in her neck until he could control his wayward reaction, his heart pounding against his ribs, relief filling him.
He took the decanter from her lax grip and placed it gently on the chest of drawers under the window.
Despite her state of dishevelment, the smudges of dirt on her face, and her tousled hair, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
“Did he marry you?” If Callow had forced Phoebe to marry him, he would die, if he wasn’t dead already.
“N-no. Tomorrow he said.” Although tears stood in her eyes, she hadn’t let them fall. But she clung to him, and he liked that. “I hit him,” she said.
“I can see that. I’m proud of you, Phoebe. You did well.” He couldn’t see himself letting go of her any time soon, despite the reek of cheap brandy. He addressed Linton. “Get him out of here.”
Linton opened the door again to reveal the landlord. Two likely men stood with him. Having Phoebe in his arms wasn’t only necessary, it was expedient. The way she nestled close to him validated the story he’d told the man.
“This is your wife?” the landlord asked.
“It is.” No hesitation or doubt marked his voice. “I found this villain forcing himself on her.”
“I would take a bunch of birch twigs to him,” the man said disdainfully. “Do you want him locked up? I can call for the parish constable if you want.”
“No,” Leo said, regretting his decision, but he needed discretion. Involving more people would hardly achieve that.
Callow was beginning to move, his body twitching, moans rumbling from his throat. Leo nodded to Linton. Wordlessly, Linton got on with his orders. The footman lifted Callow, demonstrating tremendous strength. Callow was no lightweight. Tossing the man over his shoulder, as if Callow weighed no more than a bag of apples, Linton pushed past the landlord to make his way downstairs.
“Turn him loose,” he said. All Callow’s belongings were in this room, so Linton would toss the man out of doors naked and barely conscious. Good. He’d have the things parceled up and sent on, but Callow would have to find his own way back to his home. That should keep him busy.
Although he was proud of Phoebe for striking Callow, Leo regretted not being able to beat this man to a pulp. On the journey here he’d lived every blow and enjoyed them all thoroughly. The barbarians he was descended from were never so close to the surface as now.
With the biggest obstacle out of the room, he gave swift instructions to the landlord. In very little time, the bath had been removed, a new one ordered, and the staff sent about their duties, leaving him alone with Phoebe.
“Come.” The room was too small for a daybed, although it was comfortably furnished, so he carried her to the bed. She sat up and he joined her, leaving a respectable distance between them but holding her hands. “Poor honey! You have been through the wars, have you not?”
She lifted her gaze to his. But instead of meeting a distressed, weakened Phoebe, he saw a woman with fire in her eyes. “The m-man is a c-c-complete idiot! And a blackguard. How dare he d-do this t-to me? He has r-r-ruined me! D-does everybody know?”
He was glad to reassure her on that score. “They do not.” And if his plans came to fruition, they never would.
She sighed, her bosom threatening to escape what was left of her bodice. The accident had destroyed her delicate gown. Smudges and tears marked the once-pretty fabric, together with bruises and scratches. No doubt she had bruises beneath. The need to care for her overwhelmed him.
“Wh-What happened? How did M-Marcus know where to f-find me?”
“Your sister was in league with him. She gave me a letter intended to prevent me from coming after you, but it was not in your handwriting. I have reason to know the way you loop your l’s and cross your t’s, do I not?” Unable to resist the temptation, he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her palm.
She did not flinch away, as he half expected. Undergoing such an ordeal might make her wary of his sex for a while, but she showed no signs of it.
“Yes, you know m-m-my handwriting.” Then her expression hardened. “L-Lucinda? I am s-s-so sorry she did that to you! I c-c-cannot imagine what she was thinking, and I am deeply sorry. I w-w-will make her s-s-sorry for this, you see if I don’t!”
“I’m sure you will. However, I believe your father has plans for her. He has ordered her to return home, in the company of your mother.”
“F-F-Father?” Her eyes widened. “D-Did my m-mother know, too? I was out with her shopping when M-Marcus took me. L-Lucinda said she had a s-sore throat, so she stayed at home.”
Her stammer was slowly becoming less pronounced, turning into a slight and, to his mind, adorable hesitation at the beginning of a few words. He felt honored that she felt easy enough with him to do so, especially since she was barely aware of the change. “I don’t believe your mother knew until she returned to the house. But she did try to support your sister. They both tried to persuade me that since you had run off with your childhood sweetheart, I would be better off with Lucinda.” He shivered, shaking off the prospect.
Phoebe sighed. “Yes, she would s-say that. Lucinda is Mama’s favorite, and if there was a b-brilliant m-match to be made, she would have Lucinda do it. L-Lucinda is the b-beautiful one, she says.”
He snorted in derision. “As if a man of taste would prefer her to you. You have intelligence, wit, and beauty.”
“W-w-wit? B-b-b-beauty?” Her voice rose incredulously.
“Yes.” He lifted her hand to his lips and dropped another kiss on the back of it. He daren’t go further, not until they had talked, because if he touched her, kissed her, especially in these circumstances, their talk would have to wait. He wanted this part over with and put behind them. “Your letters are a delight. I would have you continue them after we are married.”
He was sorry to see the tears return. “We c-c-c-cannot m-marry now. You must know it. I am a scandal. M-Marcus w-w-won’t keep quiet. He’ll t-tell everybody I was alone with him for a d-day, that we sh-shared a b-bedroom. All I can do is return home and live quietly. That is if M-Marcus does not ruin even that for me.”
“He will not, but you will not be going home to live. Phoebe, you’re mine. We’re marrying as soon as possible.”
He refused to let her out of his sight. Afraid for her safety, his alarm exacerbated by the news that Callow had abducted her, he would not let her go. And he wanted her under the same roof he occupied. The only way to do that was to be married to her. He couldn’t be sorry about that.
“No!”
“You don’t want me?”
She shook her head. “Not that. Of c-course I do. But you’re a d-duke, and you c-can’t m-marry someone like me. You were c-caught with me in a grotto. Half of society thinks I stole that b-blasted necklace.”
Knowing her resilience and her straightforward honesty, he had to tell her about Lisette. She would not appreciate him keeping the truth from her. The road ahead was difficult enough without that. Leo kept his gaze firmly fixed on hers as he told her about the events of the morning, the murder of his erstwhile mistress. And why she was killed.
Phoebe swallowed but said nothing until he was done, only wiped away her tears with a handkerchief he gave her. He appreciated that silence. Constant interruptions would have made his task much more difficult.
When he had done, she asked, “Y-You are s-sure it was for the necklace?”
“She had
it, and it was stolen. Nothing else was.”
“Was it the real one?”
“Latimer says not, and I believe him. She was wearing a paste bracelet and paste earrings to match the missing necklace.”
She nodded. “And L-Lady Latimer would know her own n-necklace from a p-paste one.” His wife-to-be was no fool. He enjoyed the way she thought through every implication. “I-I am s-sorry for the lady, of course, but I n-never knew her.” She paused, frowning. “And y-you d-discovered this when?”
“This morning.”
“Oh.” Her eyes widened. “And you c-came to me after that?”
Giving in to instinct, he tugged on her hands and drew her closer. Truthfully he wasn’t sure which of them needed the most comfort. “I went out of my mind when I realized you were gone. You’re connected with the necklace, and people in some quarters think you stole it. Who’s to say the murderer wouldn’t have come after you?”
Telling her the truth, not hiding it from her, was doing her all the honor he could. This woman had strength, far more than people thought.
“We have names, now. Chapman, a footman who worked at the Latimer house, was there the night of the theft, but he has not been seen since. Latimer told me he disappeared. I suspect he was the person who stole the diamonds. And Forrester, a ruffian from St. Giles, or so Cocking the Bow Street man says. He would have taken the jewelry and sold it.”
“Then why are they still looking for the pieces?”
“Only Forrester is. Maybe Chapman made off with the piece. So when La Coccinelle appeared at the opera with it, he might have assumed Chapman was connected to her, especially when Latimer was seen in her company. Forrester is looking for that necklace, and he is a ruffian of the first order. When I heard you had been abducted, I lost a year of my life.”
Lifting her head, she met his eyes, her own wide. “But you knew I w-was with M-Marcus. He isn’t a m-murderer.”
“You could have been pursued. Neither of you knew what was coming. Forrester wants that necklace badly, and he will kill to get it.” He hugged her closer. “I would have come after you in any case, because you are not marrying Callow, but the thought that you were in danger gave me wings.”
“Oh.” When she licked her lips, he followed the movement hungrily. He wanted to do that. “And escaping from my sister?”
His smile broadened. “Indeed. She was wearing one of your gowns when I saw her.”
“She always s-stole my clothes if she thought they were too g-good for me, or if she thought they would look b-better on her.”
“She will do so no more,” he promised grimly. “She will be fortunate if I decide to let her through the gates of my estate.”
“Why would she?” Phoebe demanded. “Oh, I see. I appreciate your k-k-kind offer, Your G-g-g-grace, b-b-but you must know it is imp-p-p-possible.”
Damn, the stammer was back. He would love to kiss it out of her, but he doubted that would work. He would kiss her anyway. But when she was ready.
A tap on the door indicated the return of the inn staff. When he bade them enter, four people brought in a bath, draped clean towels around it, and filled it with hot water, putting more hot water cans close by. Then they opened a folding table that was standing against the wall and laid several covered dishes on it.
Leo gave them all generous vails and thanked them. They filed out.
He pulled out a chair. “Come and eat. Unless you’d rather bathe first?” Steam rose invitingly from the tub. Set before the fire, it would keep its heat for some time.
“Oh, I’m so hungry.” She was careful to use the washstand to clean her hands before she sat. As he pushed the chair under her, she glanced up at him. “I will bathe when you have gone to your room.”
He was going nowhere tonight. He’d sleep on the straw-strewn floor if he had to, brave rodents and insects for her. Or simply get them to bring in a truckle bed. “Then I’ll join you in the meal, because I am hungry too. And we can talk while we eat.”
Sharing a meal eased the tension thrumming through the room. As they consumed a homely but well-cooked meal, they chatted about town affairs, his decision to redesign part of his garden, and the latest fashions. Anything but the subject that obsessed both of them. Leo wanted to ease her, get her to accept him as part of her life. Because he was fully determined to do that as soon as they returned to London.
The way they behaved around each other would set a pattern for their married life. And while he did not believe in love as part of a lasting relationship, he did want friendship and fondness. He would be making his heir on this woman, God willing. He wanted more than a mechanical act of baby-making. Friendship, accord, and passion lay in their future. All they had to do was take it.
She was finally losing the tension that had strung her up tight. The tendons in her neck didn’t stand out so much, and her movements were becoming less jerky, more fluid. Deliberately he lingered over the simple meal, giving her time to accept what would happen next.
Her stammer was almost gone.
Placing her silverware neatly side by side on her plate, Phoebe lifted her head and gave him her full attention. “I would ask you one more f-favor.”
“Which is?” He was prepared to listen, but he had plans of his own.
“In the morning, c-could you escort me to my home? We are but fifteen m-miles away. I am sure my father will reimburse any expenses when you return to town. If I am not in London, they will forget me the sooner.”
Revulsion and total rejection of her question swept through him. He got to his feet, piling the used dishes on the large tray the maid had brought, giving him a chance to control his mood. “Do you think I will forget you?”
“You are aware that I’m t-totally ruined?” Her voice was quiet, but her eyes told a different story. They blazed with anger.
“Not necessarily.”
She waved a hand dismissively. “Faugh! Do not try to reassure me with p-platitudes! I am right, sir, I know. People saw me drive off with M-Marcus. The news will be the t-talk of the t-town by now. Our understanding must be at an end. Lady Latimer still insists I s-stole her jewels. How much more do you need?”
By now he knew better than to try to soothe her with lies. “It’s not as bad as that. You can recover from this. We can recover.”
“You c-cannot continue with our betrothal. Your grandmother would dislike it intensely, and society will c-condemn you along with the rest of us.”
He loved her passion. He could use that for any number of things, but the one he had in the forefront of his mind did not involve anyone but the people in this room. “Society will have to bear it. No, sweet Phoebe, I will not abandon you. What kind of man do you think I am?”
“If I go home and reside quietly there, I will b-be a n-nine days’ wonder.”
“No.” He could not articulate how much the notion repelled him. How could he dump her at her home and walk away? He knew the answer to that, though it appeared she did not. He utterly refused to do it. And he was about to tell her so, when she spoke again.
“You know you must. B-but there is s-s-s-something else. P-p-please, let me speak.”
He had finished stacking the crockery, so he opened the door and put the mess outside for the maid to collect. That way they would not be disturbed.
What had caused her stammer to return? What was she about to ask him?
After ensuring the door was firmly closed, he approached the table again. But he did not sit; instead, he came around the table to her side of it. “What is your question?”
As she met his gaze, she swallowed. “I-I know I am d-d-d-destined for a l-life of spinsterhood. I have f-f-faced this b-b-before, and I am sure I can become accustomed to it. I will.” She firmed her jaw, the tiny muscles tensing. “B-b-b-but I d-d-d-d-do not want to become a virgin spinster. We are about to part.” Her speech sped up, as if she
wanted this part over. “B-b-but here, you c-c-c-claimed you are my husband, so you would s-s-s-save me. I appreciate that. C-c-c-could you not become my husband, j-j-j-just for this one night?”
He reeled. “You want me to make love to you?”
“Yes.”
Did she not realize that if he truly intended to quit her for good after escorting her home tomorrow, he would never agree to such dishonorable behavior? But his exasperation with her insistence warred with desire so strong he doubted he could behave as he should.
All his carefully laid plans flew out of the window. “Come here,” he demanded in the kind of rough tone that should deter a delicately reared female.
But not Phoebe. Placing one hand on the table, she got to her feet in one smooth movement. Barely an inch separated them. She lifted her face. “Then kiss me.”
Chapter 17
She’d done it, told him what she wanted. She would not grieve until tomorrow. She had won a night, one night to live a life, one night to fulfill her dreams. She didn’t intend to waste it.
Strong and vital, Leo didn’t need his title or riches to make an impact. He was everything she wanted, especially now. Would he accept her offer? She had done everything she could to persuade him. She was not practiced in seduction, so all she could do was ask, plainly and honestly.
Leo appreciated straightforwardness, she knew that. And he wanted her, she’d seen that gleam in his eyes, the warmth of interest, and the heat of passion.
Just like the look now. If tonight had consequences, she would deal with them, but she wanted this so badly. Her reputation ruined, she would only be destroying it further, and ruined was ruined. Her father would not see her begging on the streets. Most likely she’d be pushed into the background, left to molder in the family home, the disregarded spinster sister who had once created a scandal.
After all, when she went to London, that was the fate she had thought she was heading for. But oh, before she accepted her future life, she needed this one night out of time.
The Girl with the Pearl Pin Page 21
