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

by Olivia Bennet

  When he arrived at the top of the hill, he knelt beside her immediately and took her hand to place a kiss upon it.

  “You look as lovely as ever, Phoebe.”

  She laughed gaily, tucking a strand of her dark hair behind her ear. She had worn it loose, knowing it was Owen’s favorite way for her to wear it. Although she had a light-blue bonnet upon her head, it did little to stop her wild locks from flying in the wind. Her cheeks were flushed from the very breeze that made her hair dance.

  “And you are very handsome, as always.”

  “May I ask where your guardians believe you to be today?”

  “I have told Miss Bennet I am meeting with some ladies for luncheon. And yourself?”

  “There was nobody who required an explanation. It is one of the many benefits of living in one’s own home.”

  “This is a beautiful place, Owen. Have you been here before?”

  He shook his head. “No. But I had heard from the butcher that the views were remarkable and that hardly a soul ever came as far as Caddock Hill. I believe it was about time this romance escaped the confines of our parents’ houses.”

  Phoebe shut her eyes and took in a deep breath of the fresh wildflower-scented air. She ran her hand across the tall grass and felt the wind upon her face. Never had she felt so free.

  “It was a wonderful choice.” She looked over at his basket with a smile. “Have you brought a picnic?”

  “Do you think I would be so terrible as to invite a lady to meet with me and not see that she had everything she could desire?” He opened the basket and began to lay out its contents. “Here we have a pork pie made fresh this morning, boiled eggs, gingerbread cakes, and fresh strawberries.”

  “My goodness! You are spoiling me, Owen.”

  “I have waited a lifetime for the opportunity.”

  He sat down beside her and she lay her head upon his shoulder. As the weeks had passed, she had grown accustomed to a gradual ascension in their physical contact. Now it was not unusual for them to brush up against one another while moving around the glass house or for Owen to kiss her hand.

  When they were sitting close, they would lean into one another. Owen would often place his arm around her shoulders and she would rest her head against his shoulder. It always made her feel so safe and most at home.

  Owen produced more delights from within his basket. “Blackcurrant cordial made by the wife of a fellow student.”

  “You have made so many friends!”

  “They all take turns to force some token or another upon me. They see in me an unmarried gentleman living alone and I believe they all fear I am at risk of starving to death. I’ve had more dinner invitations than I could possibly attend.”

  “Isn’t it wonderful that they care so?”

  “Indeed, it is.”

  It’s no wonder. Phoebe knew that Owen was extremely intelligent but did not let that affect for a moment his humility. He always aided others in their studies where he was able, offered financial assistance where he could to those in need, and offered his services gratuitously to the tutors as a research assistant. She doubted there was a single person within the law department of the university who did not owe Owen some favor or another.

  Phoebe lay back and looked up at the sky. Owen laid beside her. His arm was touching hers and it made her smile. That smile grew when she felt his fingers interlock with hers. Her heart leaped in her chest for how liberated she felt then. For the first time in all her life, she was following her heart and she had to question why she had taken so long to do so. The joy of being with Owen far outweighed the fear of being discovered.

  “This reminds me of the picnics we had when we were children,” she said.

  Owen laughed. “Do you mean when I stole two jam tarts from the pantry and we hid behind the stables to eat them?”

  “Actually, I was recalling the one where I stole the blackberries and we made a game of trying to throw them into one another’s mouths.”

  “We became very skilled at that if I recall correctly.”

  “Open up.”

  Phoebe smiled playfully as she pulled the stem from a strawberry and took aim. Owen tilted his head back and opened his mouth and they both laughed when he took a dive to catch the berry in his mouth when she threw it.

  “Can you imagine spending time together like this if anyone were watching?” Phoebe said wistfully. “I loved your brother and I in no way mean to say anything against him, but there wasn’t this spontaneity and trust.”

  “You didn’t trust him?”

  “I trusted him in many ways. I trusted that he would always take care of me, that he would always provide. I trusted that he would stay faithful and that he would honor his duties as a husband always.”

  “But?”

  “But I couldn’t trust that he would accept me as I am. Evan could be so proper. If I threw a strawberry at him, it would bounce right off his head and then he would complain about the stain on the rug.”

  Owen chuckled. “That was Evan. He had a sense of humor on an intellectual level—politics, and such—but he was easily offended by the most candid of interactions.”

  “Oh, how he used to scold me!” Phoebe giggled at the memory. “I remember at the ball before he left that he asked me to dance after I had already danced a thousand dances. I groaned and slumped down, and he told me off for slouching and being childish!”

  “He used to scold me too, usually when we were dining with our parents. My father would mention some associate or another who was as dry as the desert and I’d make a comment about the stiffness of their mustache or the wobble of their jowls, and they would both tut and shake their heads. Evan would always tell me that I undermined conversations with trivial and childish observations.”

  “It’s Lord Goole, isn’t it?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “With the jowls, Lord Goole.”

  “Have you seen them?”

  “He looks like a turkey!”

  “I refer to him as Lord Gobbledegoole. My father hates it.”

  Phoebe laughed so hard she had to hold her stomach to ease the pain of her laughter. “I can’t believe you have said such a thing!”

  “That I said such a thing? It is you who used to call Lady Bucknall ‘Lady Bucktooth.’”

  She buried her face in her hands and shook with giggles. “We are both terrible. If they could hear us now!”

  “This is why I love you, Phoebe,” Owen said, his voice filled with sincerity. “All the rigid societal rules and expectations fade away when I am with you. I feel wholly human and nothing more. Simply myself. It’s like drawing a breath after holding it all day long.”

  Phoebe sat up, loose grass caught in her hair, and she smiled down at Owen, who was lying down now, with affection. “I know you’ve spoken of love for me countless times but it feels different to hear you say it now.”

  “How so?” He sat up, drawing up one knee and resting an elbow upon it in a casual listening pose.

  “For now I am free to hear it.”

  “And what are the nature of your feelings for me?”

  “As they have always been.” She paused and swallowed. It was hard to retrieve the words she had kept buried for so long. She looked up and caught his eye. “I have loved you madly all my life.”

  * * *

  Phoebe hummed to herself quietly as Miss Bennet brushed out her hair. After a few minutes of silent brushing, Miss Bennet’s hands became still and she sighed.

  “My Lady, there is grass in your hair.”

  She giggled and apologized. “Forgive me, Miss Bennet. I was lying in the grass earlier to read.”

  “You know I care for you a great deal, My Lady.”

  “Of course.”

  “It is out of this care and love for you that I speak, so please do not misunderstand what I am about to say.”

  Phoebe sensed the seriousness in Miss Bennet’s voice and turned away from the mirror, twisting in her chair to look at he
r governess. “Whatever is it, Miss Bennet?”

  “I simply wish that you would confirm or deny my suspicions.”

  “And what suspicions would those be?”

  “That you have been courting Lord Boltmon in secret.”

  Bowing her head, Phoebe bit down on her lip nervously. She clung onto the back of her chair. “Will you tell anyone?”

  “It is not my place nor my desire to, My Lady. I simply have my concerns that this relationship will end badly for you.”

  “How so?”

  “Loose tongues wag, my dear. There are those who have seen the way you two look at each other, long before it was announced to the world that you and Evan were betrothed. There will be those, upon learning of your union, who will suspect it began before Evan was lost to us.”

  Phoebe gasped, feeling her stomach clench in fear and repulsion. “Who would ever think such a thing? Miss Bennet, you know very well how I agonized over these two men, how I cried for losing Owen, and how I devoted myself heart and soul to Evan.”

  “I know, My Lady, I know.” Miss Bennet pulled up the room’s rocking chair to sit at her side. “It is not I who would make any accusation against you for I know you better than anyone. You are an entirely faithful and loyal lady. But I fear that others will not see it as I do. I fear that you are orchestrating a situation to which there will be no happy ending.”

  “I tried so hard to choose another way.” Phoebe’s voice became soft and low, hardly a whisper in case the walls should be listening in. “Owen had tried to win my affections before and I had rebutted him again and again in favor of his brother to whom I was betrothed. It was my truest desire to honor Evan in every way.”

  She fiddled with the material of her long nightdress, feeling the tears begin to well in her eyes. “It was a fight against my own heart to honor him so. I did and always have loved Owen in my deepest heart. Now that Evan is no longer with us, I am torn. There is nobody left to bestow my loyalty upon except my own heart.”

  “I understand and I support you. My child, you deserve happiness. You did your duties as a daughter and honored your father by accepting the marriage they arranged for you and being faithful to Lord Huxley completely. It was not by your design that he perished, but it happened this way. I think it would be very cruel for anyone to expect you to close off your heart forever now he is gone.”

  “I couldn’t if I tried, Miss Bennet. I am in love with Owen and my heart won’t allow me to deny it any longer. If I did, I would die twice from grief: once for Evan and again for Owen.”

  “You have endured enough. But it is my advice to you that you do everything in your power to hide your affections to one another from the world. Be discreet and meet in private places. Do not write or leave other tokens of your love where they can be found.”

  “Do you think we’ve been careless?”

  “Love leaves a trail. You must try to cover the trail as far as you can. Consider appearances always. Question how your actions could be construed by another and always err on the side of caution. You are not only courting the brother of your late fiancé, but you are courting unchaperoned, which only heightens the sense of scandal that would surround you if news of this affair came to light.”

  Phoebe sniffled back her tears and cleared her throat. “Do you think there is any chance that he and I should ever be together freely?”

  “All things are possible with time, patience, and due care. Be slow, be cautious, and think ahead. Consider how your relationship appears to those on the outside and sculpt it to appear fully wholesome.” Miss Bennet picked up the brush once more and began to brush Phoebe’s hair once again. “In time, Lord Boltmon might raise his concern that his late brother’s fiancée remains unmarried. In loving her as a brother and in honor of Lord Huxley’s memory, perhaps he feels it is his duty to protect and provide for you.”

  “And this is the way you believe others would accept us?”

  “I believe this is the only way. Never confess that there was love between you before any proposal might arrive. Act as if any suggestion of marriage is purely to uphold the arrangement placed upon yourself and Lord Huxley to unite your families. Let Lord Boltmon play the role of the would-be brother-in-law who steps up to care for his brother’s bride.”

  “Do you judge me, Miss Benet, for what I do?” Phoebe let her tears fall. Whenever she came too close to perfect happiness, her guilt would return to plague her. “Am I a terrible person to love another so soon after my fiancé has died?”

  “Perhaps if you had truly loved Lord Huxley to begin with but we both know your affections for him were never as true nor as deep as they are for Lord Boltmon. You played the part you were expected to play, but it was make-believe, was it not?”

  “I thought that if I played the role long enough, eventually I would believe it myself. I believe I could grow to love Evan one day as I did Owen.”

  “Lord Boltmon is the one who is still here.” Miss Bennet took in a deep breath and nodded slowly. “Heavens, child, we have such a short time on this earth. May the Lord allow some of us to be happy upon it.”

  Chapter 20

  It had been two years since Evan’s death. In that time, there was no word of him or any of the merchandise that sank with his ship. Two years of silence could only confirm what was already known to them all: Evan would never return.

  Owen sat with Phoebe at Caddock Hill. As they looked out over the fields, he recalled all the times they had been here before. Between this place, the glass house and all the hideaways at Wycliff House, they had found a way to be together daily, building their love upon a thousand stolen moments.

  They had returned once more—this time as the sun rose—to be alone.

  He placed his arms about her shoulder and she rested her head upon his shoulder as was her manner. Nothing had changed between them as month after month passed by and became years. Their love was as strong as ever.

  It was time, Owen knew, to confront what happened now.

  “Phoebe, I have been meaning to speak to you about something important.”

  She raised her head with a smile. “Yes, my darling?”

  “I have decided that tonight I am going to ask your father for his blessing for us to be wed.”

  She took in a deep breath and rested her back against the oak. “Do you think it is time?”

  “It has been two years.”

  Phoebe looked down at her lap in quiet contemplation. “Father has been making hints at the fact he would like to introduce me to other men.”

  “All the more reason to make known our intentions now before anyone else becomes involved.”

  “Owen my heart is beating thrice as fast as it was a moment ago. We have been cautious and patient. We have played the roles we needed to play to disguise our love and show our respects to Evan. But we have been so long in hiding that I can hardly imagine our love in the open.”

  “Not love in the open. Not yet. Remember, Phoebe, this proposal will come from me as one of duty, and you must accept it as if you were one who feared life as an unmarried lady. Only after we are married may we act as if love has suddenly blossomed for the first time.”

  “So as not to draw suspicion that there was ever any kind of adultery or betrayal.” Phoebe shook her head in disgust. “It is so loathsome to think there might be those who would judge us in this manner. Everything we do, we do to protect us from their eyes.”

  “It can be no other way when the world is watching.” Owen offered her a bright smile. “Yet we are almost there. We are so close to being unified in marriage.”

  He leaned forward to kiss her. The first time they kissed had been eight months into their courtship and it had been as powerful as thunder. Even now, when Owen kissed her, he felt himself lighter than air.

  Her lips were soft and warm. She smelled of lavender; he would breathe in the scent when they were close to one another. The way her hair tickled his face was one of life’s greatest treasures.

&n
bsp; To think that soon she would be rightfully his was a dream almost too big to conceive, yet there was the chance it might come true.

  * * *

  “Father, Lord Wycliff.” Owen addressed the two men in the drawing room of Bentley Manor. “I have asked you both to be present here today as I ask your blessings for something I feel I must do.”

  The Duke fixed him with a questioning stare. “What is it, my son?”

  Owen was sitting opposite them both. He felt even more nervous than he had anticipated. His palms were hot and clammy and he felt as if his heart were beating in his throat rather than his chest.