An Immoral Dilemma For The Scandalous Lady (Steamy Historical Romance)

by Olivia Bennet

  “I’m fearful he will condescend to and limit me.”

  Miss Bennet nodded and patted Phoebe’s hand kindly. “I don’t believe it. I watched the Lord Huxley grow just as I watched you, My Lady. He has a good heart, and if there is any chauvinism in him, I know nobody more capable of opening his eyes. You will be good for each other.”

  She stroked Phoebe’s hair softly. “And as of Lord Boltmon, he has been a wonderful friend to you, but it is not to be your husband. The eldest daughter will always be betrothed to the eldest son. You have had more time with Lord Boltmon to grow to love him, but I am certain you will feel the same about Lord Huxley in time. Every gentleman has his own qualities. You simply need to discover those that abide within Lord Huxley. Didn’t I hear him say he was going to take you to the botanic gardens?”

  “Yes.”

  “What a wonderful opportunity to find what is special about this gentleman.” Miss Bennet knelt in front of Phoebe and used her handkerchief to dry her eyes in a motherly fashion. “Now, dry those eyes, my dear, and don’t let your father see you cry.”

  “He would be furious to hear me speaking so.”

  “Men are privileged to have choices that aren’t available to us ladies; it makes them lose their empathy. But you can trust that your father loves you immensely, and he would never offer your hand to a gentleman he didn’t believe would treat you well.”

  “I know he wouldn’t. I know he believes this is the best choice for me and our family. And I know it will be a good life. I do. Yet I feel sorrow for the life I would have chosen.”

  Miss Bennet’s face was pained as if she were holding back her own tears. In fact, Phoebe could see a thin line of tears suspended in her eyes.

  “My poor Lady, sorrow will do you no good. You are old enough now to understand—that choice never existed. You are grieving for the loss of a life that would never have been yours. You may not marry Lord Boltmon, but you will be spared life with a violent or cruel gentleman, spared a life of poverty and work. And you will have your father and those who love you with you always.

  “Lift your chin, my darling, and know that you are blessed and loved.”

  Chapter 5

  Evan seemed immensely tall when Phoebe was standing at his side. She had worn her most feminine and intricate dress for her outing with her betrothed. It was white tulle with pink embroidered flowers and a matching sunhat with a long pink ribbon. The material of her dress came to her throat and extended down to her feet. Beneath the material, she wore a corset that had been pulled tight enough to almost break her ribs that morning. Yet, it had the desired effect. Phoebe looked as elegant as any lady who had ever walked beside a gentleman.

  Several paces behind them walked her brother, Roger. Even though Phoebe had known Evan her whole life, and even though they were engaged to be married, the priority, always, was to avoid any stain on the young lady’s reputation. Heaven forbid she be seen walking with a gentleman without the proper chaperone.

  Phoebe briefly imagined herself kissing Evan underneath one of those giant palm leaves, or hiding behind one of the tall rose bushes to do sinful, forbidden things, and she giggled. Would anyone ever do such a thing? What did her father, brother and the rest of society imagine she would do if left alone with him?

  Then again, if she imagined Owen in his place, the imagery was less preposterous. Would anything be more sublime than a kiss from Owen when surrounded by such beauty and the fragrance of a thousand flowers?

  “You seem flushed, my love. It is kept warm in here to mimic the temperatures overseas. The glass helps maintain the humidity.”

  “Quite.”

  “I’ve heard that the Kew estate has the most wonderful gardens. Francis Masson brought thousands of plants back from South Africa. The HMS Bounty brought another collection from Tahiti. Although beautiful, these gardens have a scientific purpose for the preservation and study of flora around the world. If I were another gentleman, perhaps I would have pursued botany as a subject of interest, perhaps even a career.”

  Phoebe was enamored with the idea. It had been a long time since she had been witness to Evan’s softer and more academic side. He prided himself on his masculine pursuits and skill in business, yet here he was talking about his love of plants.

  “It is never too late, Lord Huxley.”

  “I’m afraid that ship has sailed, so to speak.”

  “Nonsense. A ship is precisely what you have.”

  Evan smiled. “You imagine me collecting specimens from overseas?”

  “I see no reason why not.”

  “And if I were to bring these specimens home, you would study them?”

  “I’d study them, draw them, and catalog them.” She laughed gaily. “We could have our own botanic gardens!”

  He turned to her with bright eyes and a warm smile. “Then we shall.”

  “We shall what?”

  “Have our own botanic gardens. I vow to bring you seeds or cuttings from every shore upon which my fleet lands. You will be able to tend to them in my absence, and when I return, I will be able to see what you have made grow. You can invest all your love for me into nurturing those plants, and when they blossom, it will be like I am with you.”

  What a romantic ideation! Phoebe felt her heart fluttering in her chest. Evan said he was not one for sentimental prose, but he spoke like a poet and warmed her heart with his words.

  She adored the idea of keeping a garden in his absence far more than she tolerated the idea of raising children while her husband was at sea. It presented the opportunity for study and learning; it was the chance to create something beautiful with her own hands.

  “A glass house like this one will be my wedding gift to you, my love.”

  “Really?” Phoebe clasped her hands under her chin and gasped with glee. “Lord Huxley, I think that is about the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

  Evan stopped walking and turned to face her. He smiled. In that smile, Phoebe could see the tenderness that Miss Bennet had spoken about and she felt loved.

  “I am sorry if you have not sensed the affection in me that ought to have been there all along, My Lord,” she said. “I have been longing for my mother of late. The prospect of marriage makes a young lady yearn for maternal advice. In a way, I have felt lost. But I know you are a good and honest gentleman, and I trust you with all my heart.”

  “I understand your trepidation, My Lady. Upon our marriage, you will be forced to leave your childhood home and all its memories to be the wife to a husband who is rarely by her side.

  “Yet I vow to you that every resource available will be at your disposal. You shall have your own horses and carriage so that you may visit your father as and when you wish. And, of course, you shall have the company of my mother.”

  “I haven’t seen Lady Bentley in a very long time.”

  “She occupies herself with charitable pursuits. She is a deeply-loving lady.”

  “Would there be a place for Miss Bennet at your estate? To be my handmaid, and in time, governess to our children?”

  “If you would bear me children, My Lady, I would give you anything your heart desired. I will inform my mother of the arrangements.”

  Phoebe felt lighter. Miss Bennet had been right to say that time with Evan was all that was needed to assuage her fears. In one afternoon, he had shown he was capable of deeper thinking and of offering her a lifestyle that would complement her curious mind. Miss Bennet would remain with her. She had nothing to fear.

  And Owen? He was in London for the next several months. If she were to focus all her attentions on Evan now, she was certain she could sustain this new-found affection. She was determined to love the gentleman she married.

  “I should like to write to you when you are away, Lord Huxley.”

  “I would cherish every word, My Lady.”

  “I am excited for our future together, My Lord. Truly, I am.”

  * * *

  When the day came for
Evan to return to his ships, Phoebe was filled with sorrow. She had come to accept that she was fated to marry him, and with that concession came a determined vow to love him.

  All at once, she had the desire to know him, to understand him, to feel him in her heart. She had ensured that she was wearing the locket he had once given her when the moment arrived to say goodbye.

  “Phoebe, Lord Huxley is here to bid you farewell before he returns to sea.”

  Phoebe was sitting at her vanity table awaiting Miss Bennet’s call to attendance. She was weeping at the mirror.

  “Oh, Miss Bennet. I do not wish for Lord Huxley to see me in such a state of high emotion. Would you be so kind as to brush my hair while I take a moment to dry these tears?”

  “Of course, My Lady.” Miss Bennet stepped forward and picked up Phoebe’s soft-bristled gilded brush and began to sweep it through Phoebe’s long dark hair. “I must say, My Lady, I’m surprised to find you crying at all. Only but a few days ago you were bereft at the thought of being in the company of Lord Huxley. Now you are weeping because he leaves.”

  “Lord Huxley’s presence in Wycliff has given me reason to give more thought to our arrangement, and I have adjusted myself to the idea that we will be wed. Once I had accepted this, I discovered that I was thinking altogether differently about a number of things.”

  “Do tell.”

  “I could find happiness in becoming his wife and in the love he would provide me. When we went to the botanical gardens, he spoke of such wonderful things. He has vowed to purchase a glass house as a wedding gift so I might undertake my own study of botanicals and he promised to bring me cuttings from around the world.”

  Miss Bennet beamed. “That is a lovely promise, Lady Phoebe.”

  “I believed him. The offer touched my heart, Miss Bennet. I have been fearful of being married to a husband at sea, but it would be a wonderful connection between us to share such an ambition. I have dreams of growing things in his absence and introducing him to immense beauty upon his return with each of us knowing we created it together.”

  Phoebe picked up her white pigment disc and dabbed a light powder across her cheeks.

  “Not too much now,” Miss Bennet advised. “You must aim to be naturally pleasing.”

  “There are blemishes all over my skin. Lord Huxley will think me quite the child.”

  “Better that than Lord Huxley think you are a ghost.”

  After dusting her face very lightly with the powder, Phoebe reached for her pomade that she had made herself from saffron and wax.

  “Does your father know you keep all these lotions and potions in your room?”

  Phoebe laughed. “If my father deems me old enough to be engaged to be married, he should expect me to be old enough to engage in a lady’s routine.”

  She ran her finger across the smooth, red pomade and rubbed it across her lips until they took on a rosy hue. She looked upon herself in the mirror and felt a thrill at her own reflection. She appeared just as beautiful as the ladies illustrated in La Belle Assemblée.

  She reached for the pomade once again to apply rouge also to her cheeks, but Miss Bennet scolded her.

  “Not on the cheeks, Lady Phoebe! The secret of a lady’s cosmetics is that no gentleman should know she is wearing any at all. It should be Lord Huxley’s belief that you are glowing with the natural beauty of youth. If you must add color to your cheeks, simply give them a pinch.”

  Phoebe smiled and placed down the pomade. She placed her hand atop Miss Bennet’s and spun in her chair in order to catch her eye.

  “What would I do without you, Miss Bennet? You are the only reason I have not gone through my childhood mourning for my mother. You have always steered me correctly.”

  Miss Bennet placed her hand over her heart and her expression became tearful. “Sweet Lady Phoebe, seeing you grow into the wonderful young lady you’ve become has been the greatest pleasure of my life. Now, your hair is shining and your complexion is perfect. Lord Huxley is waiting for you, my dear. Are you ready to greet him?”

  “I suppose so.”

  Phoebe stood and straightened the skirts of her most exquisite dress, purchased especially for her by her father so that she might look radiant when Evan looked upon her for the last time before his return to sea.

  The dress was sky blue and had a train to it that trailed behind Phoebe when she walked. Gold embroidery embellished it at the waist and at the hems of the skirts. The sleeves were bell shaped, the neckline sweeping down to just above her breast line in a golden arch. The material was held close to her petite waist by a tie around her middle. She wore heeled shoes to appear just slightly taller, but looking at her reflection in such a beautiful gown with her shining hair and rosy lips made her feel ten-feet tall.

  She held her head high like the lady she was and descended the stairs with Miss Bennet in tow.

  She arrived in the drawing room where Evan was waiting with her father. She met his eye, smiled, and offered a ladylike curtsey. He responded with a stiff bow from the waist.

  “My Lady, you look radiant.”

  Phoebe beamed. “As kind as ever, My Lord.”

  “Please, take a seat.”

  He held out his hand to her which she accepted. She spun around his grasp and lightly seated herself upon the chaise longue, a blush upon her cheeks.

  He sat beside her, flicking the tails of his tailcoat out behind him as he briskly lowered himself into the chair with a straight back. Phoebe had long believed his spine to be crafted from iron. It never seemed to curve in the slightest.

  “I am incredibly sorry to be saying goodbye today, My Lord,” Phoebe said. “The time is never long enough.”

  “Which is why I am delighted to be able to surprise you with some wonderful news.”

  “What is it, My Lord?”

  “The Duke has made the decision to hold the ships at port for another three days as he has received word that the seas are high, and a storm has been predicted. It was his suggestion that we celebrate our upcoming nuptials and herald my leaving with a ball at his manor tomorrow night.”

  “A ball?” Her eyes widened and she smiled broadly. “Why, I haven’t been to a ball in such a long time.”

  “And you are far more than a debutante now, My Lady. You are a beautiful lady, engaged to be wed. When they see you save every dance for me, the world will know that we are promised to one another.”

  “We shall dance?”

  The thought of dancing with Evan for the first time made her heart flutter, especially the thought of dancing with him under the eyes of all his father’s closest acquaintances, the very eyes of high society.

  “All night, My Lady.”

  Chapter 6

  The Duke’s ballroom was even larger than the Earl’s. Phoebe admired the tall ceilings and beautifully-carved details of the architraves and pillars. The room was filled with bright light from the chandeliers. They swung slightly from all of the movement in the room, causing the light to drift from side to side in a hypnotic manner.

  The music was joyous and never ending. A live band was playing the cotillon but the guests were socializing before the dancing began.

  The room was filled with members of high society, gentlemen and ladies of the highest standing, all dressed to perfection.

  Phoebe entered with her father and Roger, and they were immediately greeted by the Duke himself.

  “Your Grace, we are honored to be here tonight,” the Earl said. “Allow me to offer our greatest thanks to our most gracious host.”

  “Not at all, Lord Wycliff; it is my privilege to hold you in attendance tonight. You and your family are my most-honored guests.” The Duke turned toward Phoebe with a proud smile. “My Lady, you are radiant tonight. I look forward to seeing you dance with my son.”

  Phoebe dipped at the knees in a curtsey and smiled warmly. “Your Grace, I await, with greatest anticipation, the moment I will see Lord Huxley again. It brought me immeasurable joy to know that he
would be stationed in Bentley for a longer duration.”

  The Duke leaned inwards with a knowing smile. “My Lady, dare I offer you a sordid confession?”

  “Do tell, your Grace.”

  “There is no prediction of storms ahead. I simply could not bear to part such a joyous young couple so soon. I have not seen my son this jubilant in many years.” His glance traveled to her neck. “I see you are wearing the locket he gifted you.”

  Phoebe twisted the locket between her fingers. “I was but a girl of twelve years then.”

  “And look at you now. A lady if I ever saw one.”