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

by Olivia Bennet

  He stood before her and placed his hands firmly upon her shoulders. There was a pained expression in his eyes. “It seems we’ve been yearning for one another for a thousand years, Phoebe. Now more than ever, I long to kiss you. If Evan’s death has taught me anything, it’s that life is short.”

  She turned her gaze away, although her body was urging her to take another step closer. It took all her strength of will to resist temptation and not give Owen the kiss she longed for every bit as much as he did.

  “It is precisely on account of Evan’s death that we must keep our distance. If we were to fall into each other’s arms immediately after his demise, it is not difficult to envisage what others would think. They’d imagine us to have been long-term adulterers.”

  “I care not for what they think. They know nothing.” He drew in a deep breath as if containing some great wave of emotion and nodded. “For you, I can practice restraint.” He took a step back. “But tell me, if at some time when it was appropriate, after Evan’s passing had been properly mourned and he had been properly honored, is there the chance you would consider taking the hand of his brother?”

  “Is there a chance he would offer it?”

  “If it there were the possibility you would ever accept my hand in marriage Phoebe, then a proposal would surely await you.”

  “It just seems so wrong. Evan has only just died and we are already planning a future without him.”

  “We loved each other before your vows to him were ever made. Before your betrothal to him even made sense to you. It was wrong that we ever planned a future without one another yet we did it out of duty. That duty no longer weighs upon us, Phoebe.”

  “What of loyalty?”

  “To Evan?”

  “Yes, to Evan. And to our parents. And to all who supported Evan and I.”

  “Evan would wish us both happiness. I know this. I know you know it too.”

  “Of course he would have wished us happiness. Evan was a kind-hearted and noble gentleman.”

  “Then let us be happy. How better to honor him?”

  “Owen, this is not the right time to discuss this. It seems rushed and ungracious and…and wholly incongruous.”

  “More time is needed.”

  “Yes. More time.”

  “Will you think on it?”

  Phoebe wrapped her arms around herself, feeling all of life’s uncertainties bearing down upon her. What would have been a dream come true under other circumstances now felt like the greatest burden to bear.

  “I will think on it.”

  He stepped forward and kissed her lightly on the cheek. “We have time. Time to honor Evan and time to see how our bond might yet develop.”

  The feeling of his kiss lingered on her skin.

  “There is more to consider than time, Owen. Whether we courted now or in ten years, you would still be the brother of the gentleman I was to marry, and there would still be whispers from those who know us well of how we loved each other when we were young. The walls have ears. I doubt our affections are as well kept a secret as we would imagine them to be.”

  Owen smiled. “But you recognize them as our affections. Affections we feel for one another.”

  “Affections we feel for one another, yes. But know that I will do nothing inappropriate, Owen. I need to think deeply on this.”

  Chapter 18

  The Duke and Lady Bentley ate in silence even though Owen had been invited to dine with them. He shouldn’t have been surprised it was a solemn affair. He was well aware that his parents simply tolerated one another and often used him as a buffer between them.

  “Tell me, Owen,” his father said at last. “How are things proceeding with your studies?”

  “Well enough,” Owen said. “The material is simple. I see no reason I should struggle to see my studies through to completion.”

  “That’s good. Good.”

  Lady Bentley pushed her food around her plate with her fork. “I suppose you’ve given no more thought to the idea of joining the fleet?”

  “Tabitha!” the Duke snapped at her. “Why do you always bring up in front of others conversations that have already been resolved in private?”

  “Excuse me, husband, but our son is a grown gentleman and I am asking for his perspective, not yours.”

  Owen refrained from rolling his eyes and instead spoke calmly. “No, mother. I’ve given it no further thought. I am already well progressed with my studies. I shall remain with my chosen career.”

  “Continuity is the only gift we can hope for with Evan’s loss,” the Duke stated. “Think of poor Lady Phoebe. There will be no continuity for her. I can only imagine how difficult it must be to re-envision one’s whole life in that manner. Thank God Owen may continue on his chosen path so that he doesn’t suffer the same loss of a future that was promised to him.”

  “She is no poor girl,” Lady Bentley retorted bitterly. “I’ve been well-informed that she attended the dinner party of our own dear son in recent weeks. Their grief seems to have passed quite quickly.”

  “I have sought comfort in friendship, and I saw no reason why Lady Phoebe should not have the same advantage. Together we were able to share memories of Evan. It was healing.”

  “Healing!” Tabitha scoffed. “It more closely resembles a celebration in my opinion, yet I can only see one reason to celebrate—that we should no longer have to tie our family with the Wycliffs.”

  “Tabitha,” the Duke’s voice was low in warning, “I have never raised a hand to you but, so help me God, sometimes you try me. This tragedy is not a pedestal for you to place your hatred upon. The Wycliffs are dear friends and shall always remain so. If the Earl should ever perish before me, believe I will treat Lady Phoebe as my own.”

  Lady Bentley ignored him and instead turned to Owen. “Are you aware that it is Lord Wycliff that killed your brother?”

  “Tabitha!”

  She raised her voice to be louder than his yells. “He ordered the delay that saw Evan sailing in a storm. He is the reason.”

  “Evan’s death was by no hand other than God’s,” Owen replied. “Blame on any other is misplaced, least of all Lord Wycliff who loved him—and me—as sons.”

  “He loves only the Duke’s good business sense and subsequent fortunes.” She pursed her lips. “I, for one, am glad that we shall remain two separate households. I had great fear that any union would become very afflicted.”

  “You are by far the greatest affliction of my life, Tabitha,” the Duke responded. “Leave us now. I’ve heard enough poison from your lips tonight.”

  The Duchess rose slowly, her expression as much stone as ever before. “My pleasure.”

  She left the room and the Duke shook his head slowly. “I tried to spare your brother the torture of marrying a bitter woman. I truly made every attempt.”

  “You chose well, Father. Lady Phoebe is a gentle, soft creature with a vivid mind.”

  “I worry for her like a father now Evan is gone.”

  “You do?”

  “Of course. She is a lady of nineteen years of age now. She should already be wed. Now she must find a husband anew. If it weren’t to save you from the nastiness of your mother, perhaps I might even have asked you to take Lady Phoebe’s hand to save her from such despair.” He heaved a heavy sigh. “Perhaps it is for the best our families do not join as I cannot be led to believe that your mother would ever hold her tongue. It would ruin a lifetime of friendship between the Earl and I, of this, I’m sure.”

  * * *

  “Good morning, Phoebe.”

  She lifted her face from the plants she was potting. The morning light was streaming in from the glass above and cast a heavenly ray of light across her features as if she were one of God’s own angels. Her dark hair shone like the raven’s wing in the sunlight and her smile was a light all its own.

  He wanted to kiss her. No desire in his life had ever been as great nor as difficult to quell as this urge that forever tempted him.
He knew that to press his lips against hers would be the pleasure to end all pleasures.

  He dreamt of feeling her sink in his arms, weak in the passion of the moment. He had imagined her heavy breaths in his ear on a thousand different nights. How often he’d found his gaze traveling over the outline of her corset beneath her dress, imagining how her body would appear freed from all constraints. How soft and supple it would be.

  His mouth had grown dry in his lust for her and he cleared his throat and met her eyes.

  “I knew you would be here.”

  “It has become a daily habit. I do enjoy the feeling of the sun on my skin and the earth beneath my hands.”

  She was covered in soft dirt up to the elbows. A smudge of soil was smeared across her face. She looked humble and beautiful like one of the rural girls who made their living in the fields. All the more beautiful to Owen for knowing that she had status above them all yet chose to kneel on the ground and work the soil with her own hands.

  He noticed also how she no longer appeared shocked or scandalized when he appeared without a chaperone between them. She had become comfortable in his presence alone; she was less fearful of the scandal of their solitude.

  She appeared pleased to see him. She rose from the ground and pushed back the loose strands of hair that had fallen from the braids intricately woven across the top of her head. Her bonnet had been cast aside and lay muddied on the ground and her sleeves were rolled up to the elbow.

  As disheveled and dirty as she might have been, she was still an incredible beauty. Her contentment in her activity shone through in her expression, making her glow.

  Owen immediately took off his jacket, both to fight the heat of the glass house and to appear less formal before her. He, too, rolled up his sleeves and suddenly there they were, a couple of gardeners alone in their closed-off hideaway.

  “What does your father have to say about how much time you’ve been spending here of late?”

  “He encourages it. He knows it helps me to come to terms with what has happened, although I do wonder what he might think if he knew you were with me.”

  Far from being scolding, Phoebe’s tone was playful and mischievous, as he remembered her before they became far too invested in the proper conduct of adulthood.

  “We always had to hide so much of what we were from the world. Even now, we hide in a glass house. There is only ever so much one can do to keep his secrets in this world.”

  To his surprise, Phoebe reached out and took hold of his hand. She squeezed it and he heard the emotion in her voice when she swallowed.

  “I need this secret, Owen. I have fought against it through my own morals and sense of principle. I have tried to deny what you mean to me. But now that Evan is gone, I feel as if you are all I have in this world.”

  “That’s not true. Your father adores you, as does Miss Bennet.”

  “And I adore them, but they have plans for me that aren’t the same as the plans I have for myself. You have been the only one to ever truly support my ventures, however against the norm they might be.”

  “They are hardly outrageous ventures, Phoebe. If you were wanting to dance around the town square in nothing but your petticoat in the rain while shouting out curse words, perhaps I’d have dissuaded you. Or if you had wished to become a woman of pleasure selling carnal delights to the masses in the back streets of Wycliff, I may have been aghast. But I can see nothing wrong in a lady who wishes to become a scientist, an author, or an intellectual. I think the term bluestocking should be viewed wholly as a compliment.”

  She laughed. “Could you imagine me a harlot?” She walked slowly around the central table of the glass house, running her finger along the wooden surface with a playful smile on her face. “Perhaps I’d discover some depths of hidden talent, make my fortunes, and fill my mansion with exotic birds. They’d call me the insane Prostitute of Bird Manor.”

  “You would give all of yourself away for the gift of a dove?”

  “A bluebird buys a kiss.”

  Owen felt himself growing hot under the collar of his shirt. He could not tell if Phoebe was aware of the effect she was having or simply thinking aloud without considering the effect of her words. Knowing Phoebe, he would imagine the latter. She had a most scandalous and venturesome imagination that was revealed to very few.

  In her childhood, that imagination transported her to pirate ships and put swords in her hand. In adulthood, it led her into the arms of men with rouge on her cheeks. In both eras, it was imagination only, the fantasies of one bored with her own life. Owen understood this, and it was one of the many reasons she had held his fascination for so long. Through her imagination, the world became much larger.

  “And what would one receive for the gift of a book of birds?”

  “A book of birds?” Phoebe smiled down at a sapling plant then lifted her gaze to meet Owen’s eyes. “Why, that would allow a gentleman to kiss my hand.”

  “In that case payment has been received without services returned.”

  Phoebe hesitated for a moment. Owen could sense she was questioning whether their playfulness had gone too far, but then she relented, smiled, and leaned across the table with her hand outstretched.

  He took her hand gently in his. It was still covered in soil but he didn’t mind. It was the loveliest hand he had ever held. Her skin was as soft as silk; her fingers were light and supple. He bowed his head to kiss the back of her hand; the first time his lips had ever met hers

  When he kissed her, Owen heard Phoebe draw in a sharp breath then let out a long, yearning sigh. It was almost inaudible, but Owen heard it, as he saw the way her chest rose and fell far faster than before.

  He lifted his head once more and Phoebe smiled.

  “You have soil on your lips.” She came around the table and reached up to wipe the crumbs of dirt away with her thumb. “There. Good as new.”

  He could hold himself back no more. Owen took the hand that Phoebe had used to catch the soil and used it to pull her body toward his. He placed her hand on his lower back and wrapped his own arm behind her to pull her close.

  She gasped, but he silenced her with a kiss. At first, she did not return the affection but stood stiff and frightened. Then, he felt her body loosen, the muscles relaxing.

  She pressed herself against him and wrapped her arms around his neck, rising onto her tiptoes to lend more passion to the kiss.

  Owen felt as if he were standing at a great, great height, all at once lightheaded.

  If I were at a great height, it would be this very moment I would fly.

  Chapter 19

  Phoebe was breathless by the time she arrived at Caddock Hill. It was one of the tallest hills in the county but it was so deep into the countryside that only shepherds ventured out to it. Atop the hill stood a proud oak tree, wide and tall. It was here that Owen had asked her to meet him.

  Her legs ached from the trek and her heart was racing from the knowledge that she was engaging in a forbidden courtship—for that is what her time with Owen had become.

  For all her resistance and objections, she had been unable to turn Owen away when he returned to her with love still in his heart. It returned the call of her own heart, which had yearned for him since she’d been as young as twelve years of age.

  There was no immediate prospect of marriage in her future as she had no suitors, having been engaged to wed Evan for many years. No other had ever been considered for the position. Owen was in a similar position of freedom, using the excuse of his studies as a reason to remain a single gentleman.

  In secret, they had begun to meet. So far, their private encounters had taken place at Bentley Manor, inside the glass house. This was the first time they had left the privacy and comfort of their own estates to dare be truly alone.

  She was the first to arrive. She sat down beneath the oak tree and looked out over the unspoiled English countryside. The sun was high in the blue sky and although there was a chill in the air, there was n
ot so much as the slightest mist to mask the view. Laid out beneath her were acres upon acres of rolling green fields, trees, and grazing sheep. It was picturesque.

  The air smelled of grass and wildflowers. In fact, she was sitting on a bed of daisies. She idly made a daisy chain of them while she waited for Owen to arrive.

  He did soon thereafter, wearing black breeches and a grey coat. He had wicker basket.