For the hundredth time, Hugh wished he’d not sought the counsel of their Aunt Belcher who, while taking matters in hand, and looking after Ada before and after the unfortunate business, considered Ada a disgrace and never lost an opportunity to tell the girl her thoughts.
“I’ve been talking to Phoebe—”
“Why?”
She raised her chin. “I know what she is to you, Hugh. Don’t pretend I’m the pristine innocent I was before…” her eyes flashed before she continued, “…I met Mr Wentworth.”
“Don’t speak of him, Ada.”
And don’t speak of Phoebe like that either, he thought angrily as his sister’s words rang in his ears: “what she is to you…” What was she to Hugh? A sweet, immoral creature whose freely offered charms were a marvelous diversion?
No, she was more than that. For the past hour, he’d been staring at the blank pages of a book, trying to come up with some practical reason to extend his tenure in this house where he could be free to follow his heart. In London, he’d have to squire his sister around; pay calls on various notables. In short, he’d have less time to spend with Phoebe, and right now, that’s all he wanted to do.
Their lovemaking still had that illicit edge to it. He’d taken her in joyous impulsiveness in the still room, the parlor, and finally beneath the spreading branches of a beech forest. The only place they’d not consummated their passion was in a proper bed. God, he wanted a whole night with her. He wanted to wake up with her beside him and know she’d be there when he turned in for the night. Like a properly sanctioned union.
Sanctioned? That was not a desire to articulate when it could never be. He shook his head to clear the nonsense from it. Phoebe might be clever at pretending to be a lady, but he must always remember that she wasn’t.
“Like you said, Hugh, Phoebe is an utterly marvelous actress. Why, were it not for her dress, I could have imagined she really was a fine lady. So my idea is this, Hugh. Are you listening?”
Hugh focused his attention on Ada once more. Her talk was extraordinary. Well-brought-up young girls like his sister should know nothing about women like Phoebe.
“What is your idea, Ada?”
“If you stop sounding so condescending, I might tell you.”
He resisted the impulse to reprove her for speaking to her brother in such a fashion, for it was pleasing she was finally breaking free of the shame and sorrow that had made her a shadow of the girl she’d been.
“Wentworth was married before I knew him. Yes, you have every reason to look shocked. I was when I learned it.” Ada sent him a look of triumph as she put her hands on the desk and leaned close to him. “Mr Wentworth is married, and now he is Lord Cavanaugh. I imagine he’s doing all he can to keep his first marriage secret since clearly it’s one he wishes dissolved.”
“Good Lord, Ada, why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“If you remember, Hugh, I couldn’t talk to you about anything, much less Mr Wentworth after what he did to me.” She took a deep breath. “Yes, I know you felt partly responsible. After all, you’ve tried to teach me right from wrong after Mama and Papa died, but when it came to Mr Wentworth, I lost sight of all common sense. He was so utterly charming and believable. I truly thought we would be married. But then I learned to my horror he was married already, only it was too late, and I couldn’t tell you. But now I know it’s important to find out who his wife is so she can announce it to the world. She’s probably some low-class woman he wishes to keep in ignorance of his new status. He probably abandoned her years ago, though she could be dead, of course.”
“But what has Phoebe to do with all this?”
Ada smiled. It was the first time Hugh had seen the glow that transformed her from a rather wan little creature into an extremely pretty young woman. If she’d glowed like this for Mr Wentworth, Hugh could well imagine the effect she’d have had on him. He clenched his fists into tight balls.
“Hugh, Phoebe is a marvelous actress and clearly able to convince anyone she’s a lady. As a servant, she’d be able to question Mr Wentworth’s staff on their level. But she’d also be able to deport herself in good company. I feel sure she’s the best person to discover who it was Mr Wentworth married all those years ago. Please, Hugh?”
“I don’t know what you’re pleading for me to do, Ada, when you’ve just said Phoebe is in the best position to find out about Wentworth’s wife, though you know I don’t approve of you having anything to do with her.” He felt a traitor, but it was the truth.
“You need to give Phoebe some money and some clothes, so she can do what she needs to do to discover Wentworth’s wife and then expose her to the world. Phoebe only has two dresses.”
“And one of them cost me a pretty penny.”
“You had to give her something in return, though,” he sister said reasonably and without a blush. “I’m well aware that everything in this world is a trade. And now I’m trading with you: do as I ask and I’ll meekly return to Aunt Belcher’s and let you live your life as you choose.”
Hugh shook his head, not in the least liking to hear his sister talk like this. “I don’t think Phoebe will be too enamored of the idea. She’s afraid.”
Ada sighed. “I know. She didn’t want to do it when I asked her, but I thought you’d be able to persuade her. Offer her something. Dresses, money. A woman like that would never say no to such enticements.”
“I’ll thank you not to speak of her in that manner, Ada,” Hugh said grimly, not liking to hear his own uncharitable reflections articulated by his sister. “Regardless of what you might think of me, Ada, I am trying to do what’s best for Phoebe, just as I once did for you. She has no family or friends and no funds since she fled Blinley Manor. I can understand she’d be afraid of having anything to do with the household after witnessing what she did.”
“You mean the terrible murder Lady Cavanaugh committed? I’ve heard it’s not the first time Lady Cavanaugh tried to kill her husband. I know Phoebe is full of loyal vengeance, but the duchess sounds like a terrible woman. The worst kind! She was immoral and devious, and she had numerous lovers behind her husband’s back. Not just Wentworth. Don’t look at me like that. I overheard the servants talking about it. She will hang when they find her, won’t she?”
Hugh felt uncomfortable in the face of his sister’s blind acceptance of Lady Cavanaugh’s guilt, considering Phoebe’s insistence that her mistress had been wronged.
But then, Phoebe’s faithfulness was one of the reasons he loved her.
He hoped she’d be as faithful a mistress to him as she had been a faithful servant to Lady Cavanaugh.
“So you’ll offer Phoebe something to do as you ask?” Ada was like a dog with a bone. “Tell her you’ll buy her a necklace. She won’t be able to resist that. Women like that need to take what they can get, when they can, so they have some security for their future, since she knows she can’t marry you.”
“Stop!” Hugh put up his hand and strove for forbearance.
Surprised, Ada looked at him.
Hugh closed his eyes and drew in a breath. “You’ve just said Phoebe is faithful. It’s true. She’s a good woman, and I don’t like to hear you speak in this manner. You should not!”
“It’s only the truth.”
“Phoebe does not need to shore up her future for I have promised to protect her, look after her. We are going to London at the end of the week, and you are going to Aunt Belcher’s.” He sent her a warning look when it looked like she might interrupt. “After that, I don’t want you ever to mention Phoebe again.”
“You’re getting rid of her?”
“Lord, no!” He was surprised at what a jolt his sister’s question occasioned. “To the contrary, I’m very much looking forward to the future we will fashion together in the anonymity of London, but she is not someone you are to mention, ever again, for you should know nothing about Phoebe and women like her.”
“Goodness, Hugh, you do sound fierce. Does she fee
l as strongly about you in return?”
Hugh wished he could have responded with greater alacrity. He certainly wished he’d not hesitated so long that his sister eyed him with skeptical satisfaction.
The truth was, he’d not yet won Phoebe’s heart. It shouldn’t matter. But it did.
14
So now she had a walking gown, full dress for evening entertainments, and a promenade gown. She had a shawl, a pelisse, a pair of boots, dancing slippers, and an assortment of feathers and pins to dress her hair. It wasn’t nearly enough, but with imagination, she could probably equip herself for most events a lady or a servant might attend.
Phoebe stared through the window of her attic room at the patchwork of fields disappearing into the distance, and tried to feel hopeful for the future.
Instead, a pall of gloom had settled on her shoulders.
Hugh had been away for several days. He’d taken Ada to see some people. It was all rather mysterious, and she wondered if it had something to do with the child Ada had so reluctantly been parted from, though surely Hugh would not sanction his sister visiting her illegitimate child.
The truth was, Phoebe was starting to feel vulnerable. She had come to enjoy feeling safe with a man who made her come alive, even if the surroundings were not ideal, but now she feared the awful wrench that would inevitably occur when Hugh decided to part with her, or Phoebe had no choice but to leave.
Sighing, her mind filled again with the image of Hugh; of his smile, his humor, his adherence to a strict moral code.
He’d been assiduous in not having relations with Phoebe under the same roof while Ada was here. Clearly, he regarded Ada as a paragon of virtue, despite his sister’s fall from grace which was interesting, Phoebe thought, with a touch of irony.
He’d been assiduous in following through with his promise to equip Phoebe with a decent wardrobe in the week since Ada had arrived and this, she knew, was in preparation to set her up in a townhouse in St John’s Wood, or some vicinity in easy proximity to his townhouse when he returned to London.
A few months ago, the idea would have been laughable, shocking, untenable.
But that was before she was branded a murderess with no means of a fair trial.
No, in London Phoebe would start a new life as a fully-fledged fallen woman, but the strange fact was that she didn’t mind the idea of sharing her life with a man she felt strongly about and who’d pledged to look after her. Who’d have thought her damaged heart was capable of such feeling…still?
The unfortunate fact was, though, that Phoebe would much prefer to be his wife. Yes, she’d once been Lady Cavanaugh and mistress of several estates, but she’d be far happier as the wife of a man of more moderate means who simply loved her.
Always, though, was that lurking doubt. Would he still love her if he knew the truth about her? That she was, in fact, the murderous, adulterous, Lady Cavanaugh?
Listlessly, Phoebe trailed to the window and wondered when Hugh would return. He’d been vague, saying there were matters concerning Ada to attend to, and he really couldn’t say. He’d kissed her affectionately, holding her tightly against him in a parting farewell that spoke volumes about the state of his feeling for her. And hers for him. His eyes had been filled with genuine regard and genuine regret at having to be parted from her.
Now, as she saw a carriage crest the hill coming in their direction, she felt a surge of hope and quickly dashed to the chest at the foot of her bed to change her dress.
Hugh was back, and she wanted to look as charming and desirable for him as was possible. Quickly she combed her hair, pinning it into an ensemble her own maid had perfected with her quick and nimble hands. She wondered where Barbara was now, and whether her maid believed her mistress Lady Cavanaugh guilty of murdering Ulrick. Barbara had been a dour retainer, and there’d never been much intimacy between them during the eight months the woman had been in her employ though Barbara had always seemed loyal. Phoebe suspected her husband had ordered their housekeeper, Mrs Fenton, to inform the servants that no conversation beyond the necessary was to be entered into with their mistress. It was one of his many ways of keeping Phoebe restrained beneath his roof.
It didn’t take Phoebe long before she was satisfied by her appearance. The lack of fear, and the increasing joy with which she received Hugh had erased the fine lines of worry around her eyes of which she’d become so conscious.
Pushing the ivory comb into her hair to properly secure it, she went to the window, her heart beating with excitement as she threw wide the casement, eagerly anticipating greeting Hugh as he stepped from the carriage.
Instead, it was Sir Roderick’s carriage below, and there was Sir Roderick stepping out, leaning heavily on his silver-topped cane but glancing up at the house and catching sight of Phoebe.
She ducked her head back in and ran to her iron cot against the wall, alarm making her weak-legged. She’d been in full view for less than a second. She had to believe he’d not recognized her.
The casement was still open as she heard him rapping on the door before Mrs Withins opened it.
Phoebe dare not be caught out, but she had to hear what had brought him to the house and be ready to flee, if she had to. With quiet stealth, she returned to the window where she stood just out of sight while the sounds of the visitor conversing with the housekeeper filtered up to her.
It was as dire as she had feared. A warrant was out for Lady Cavanaugh’s arrest, and a recent sighting confirmed the belief she was still in the area. Thereafter followed a description of the “dangerous murderess” as she was referred to. A description that was frighteningly similar to that of Phoebe when she was dressed according to her station.
But would Mrs Withins draw any parallels? She wasn’t particularly intelligent or observant as far as Phoebe could see. No, she’d never think of low-born, immoral, lazy Phoebe in the same way as highborn Lady Cavanaugh. Would she?
She heard Mrs Withins tutting and then her wheezing voice. “Ah, but it ain’t surprisin’, Sir Roderick, fer we’ve long ‘eard the stories of Lady Cavanaugh. She’s a wicked, wanton creature an’ all us servants are shocked with the tales of ‘er doins’. No, I ain’t seen ‘er, but I’d be the first ter tell yer so’s I could see ‘er face justice. What’s the world comin’ to if a ‘usband can’t be safe in ‘is own bed?”
Phoebe could hardly bear to hear any more, though she waited until she heard the sound of the carriage departing. With a sigh of relief she collapsed on her bed, but in less than half an hour the crunch of wheels on gravel had her again dashing in terror to the window, prepared to flee with just the clothes on her back. Had someone come to apprehend her?
However, it was Hugh and her heart surged with joy to see him. Not caring what Mrs Withins might think, she ran down the stairs and out into the garden where she threw herself into his arms the moment he issued from his carriage.
“Good Lord, Phoebe, what’s this?” he asked in some alarm, but she stopped his questions with a kiss.
“I don’t care what anyone thinks. I’ve missed you so much!” she cried when he broke away, staring down at her with some bemusement.
A slow, spreading smile transformed his face. “Did you really, Phoebe?”
“Yes, really. And not because you’ve bought me a new wardrobe, but because you do something to me here.” She tapped her heart and took his arm, happily allowing him to lead her into the house. What did she care for appearances? Right now, her heart was filled with the simple pleasure of being once again in the company of the man who made her feel safe and loved. She wasn’t going to dwell on her recent fright, and nor was she going to worry about what she must do for her own survival.
Hugh felt for her as she’d always wanted a man to feel for her. She could see it in his smile and the gentle way he cupped her cheek while he dipped his head to kiss her once more on the lips, this time gently but with great feeling, before they disappeared indoors.
Soon he would take her away from here
, to the anonymity of the city where she’d be safe. One day, when the time was right, she’d reveal who she really was.
And then, possibly, he might make her his wife. It’s what she wanted above all.
In the parlor, she looked inquiringly at him. “And where is your sister?”
A shadow crossed his face, and he took her hand. “Ada should not have come here. She ran away from her aunt’s without a word, though I didn’t know it.”
“You’ve taken her back?”
“I’d never force her to remain with Aunt Belcher when she was so unhappy there.” He smiled and put his finger to Phoebe’s lips, tracing the curve with a look of bemusement. “By God but you’re beautiful, Phoebe,” he murmured. “There’s another reason I was so eager to be rid of my sister, beloved though she is to me.”
“And what might that be, sir?” Phoebe asked archly, though she knew the reason well enough, and her body was already melting at the thought of being in Hugh’s arms and feeling his warm, naked body against hers.
And then she remembered the risks of bringing a bastard into the world, and her breath froze in her throat.
“What is it, Phoebe?”
She was surprised he was so observant. She tossed her head. “Nothing of any account. I think I heard Mrs Withins, that’s all.”
“You certainly don’t like the woman, do you?”
“Not as much as she dislikes me.”
“You’d like to be away from this place I take it.”
“I would indeed! Far, far away! I can’t wait to get to London.”
“You know I’ll look after you.” He grasped her hands and brought her knuckles up to his lips. “You know you’re safe with me. I shan’t let anything happen to you, my love. Upon my honor, I swear it with my last breath.”
She was astonished at his sudden fervor. No man had ever spoken to her of love and of putting her wellbeing to any amount of inconvenience.
The Duchess and the Highwayman Page 12
