“Part of the problem... apart from being plain... is that I am acquainted with so few people.”
“As am I. Your mother should have been the one to accompany you.”
“My mother would have embarrassed me. No, I am much happier to have you as a chaperone.” When she turned in her aunt's direction, a wisp of a smile appeared on Phoebe's lips. “'Although it does not feel like you're chaperoning me when you should be searching for a husband as well!”
“Me? Oh, dearest, no!” Marie shook her head and chuckled.
“Why do you disagree? You're very handsome, and still quite young.”
“Young? My dear, I am ancient,” Marie corrected her, then she gently patted her niece's arm. “Though I appreciate that you haven't lost all faith in my ability to attract handsome gentlemen.”
“I think you are pretty,” Phoebe said. “You're prettier than me. You're quite possibly the prettiest woman in the room!”
“And you are quite possibly pouring the butter boat over your aunt's head!” Marie responded with a chuckle. “No, I have adjusted to my spinsterhood quite well! I have no intention of finding a husband... now, or ever.”
“I wish I could say the same of myself. Everyone expects me to find a husband, but truly... I would rather not. I--”
Before she could utter another word, a handsome gentleman appeared in front of them. He had the lightest blonde hair she had ever seen, the brightest blue eyes, and the fairest skin. Phoebe thought he had the look of an angel, but with a wicked glimmer in his eye. Unfortunately, his attention was focused entirely on her aunt.
“Miss Sutton!” As he greeted her aunt, his gaze flicked to Phoebe for the briefest moment. “What a pleasure to see you again. It has been far too long.”
“It certainly has,” Marie answered pleasantly. “And how have you been faring, Mr. Wolfe?”
“Much better, now that I have been blessed with your company. Furthermore...” He finally turned his attention to her niece. “Who is the lovely young lady at your side?”
“This is Phoebe Bowden. My niece,” Marie said. “It is her first ball, so do treat her kindly!”
“Ah, but I am always kind.” As he bowed to the younger woman, his gaze seemed to be fixed firmly on her chest—though she did not have much to keep his interest. Phoebe wondered if he was noticing her unfortunate lack of curves. “It is good to meet you, Miss Bowden. I am Augustus Wolfe, a friend of your very charming aunt.”
“H-hello...” Phoebe barely managed a reply. She had been rendered speechless by the intensity of his azure eyes.
“Is she shy?” Augustus teased her. “How adorable.”
“I have never known her to be shy... perhaps she is unaccustomed to this sort of situation,” her aunt answered on her behalf. “And truly, Mr. Wolfe, you are rather intimidating!”
“Ah, but she has nothing to fear from me! My name may be Wolfe, but I am naught but a harmless sheep!” he said with a wink. “Miss Bowden...?”
When she realized he was addressing her, Phoebe's entire body seemed to freeze. “Y-yes?”
“Would you care to dance with me?”
Phoebe turned to her aunt, almost as if asking for permission. When Marie said nothing, Phoebe exclaimed, “But the next dance is a waltz!”
“If it makes you uncomfortable, Miss Bowden, I suppose we could wait until the next next dance,” the gentleman suggested.
Phoebe stared at her aunt in silent confusion for such a length of time, Marie was forced to answer on her niece's behalf. “It is entirely up to you, Phoebe... but you may dance the waltz with him, if it pleases you.”
“V-very well...” Phoebe blushed so hard, her freckles nearly vanished against a backdrop of crimson cheeks. “I would certainly love to dance with you, Mr. Wolfe.”
“Excellent!” Augustus took her by the arm and led her to the dance floor. As his arms encompassed her, her heart was thunderous. It hardly seemed proper to stand so close to a man who was nearly a stranger. As they started turning around the room, he glanced down at her and chuckled. “My dear... you look positively terrified!”
“Perhaps I am. A bit,” she confessed. “I only met you moments ago, and the waltz is a rather... intimate dance.”
“Indeed. But think of how much better we shall be acquainted with each other by the end of it.”
“I... suppose.” He was handsome. Painstakingly so. Phoebe caught herself staring at his lips as he spoke. They were full, pink, moist and curiously hypnotic. “How long have you known my aunt?”
“A year, perhaps.” He moved fluidly, leading her around the dance floor with admirable ease. Augustus Wolfe was shockingly graceful for a man of his breadth. “And your aunt, I daresay, is utterly immune to flirtation.”
“You've flirted with her?”
“On occasion... though perhaps I should not admit such a thing to the young lady I intend to flirt with as well.”
“Me?”
“Of course, you.”
Phoebe did not know if she should be flattered or vexed. She already suspected he was the sort of man to divide his attention among many women. If that was true, she neither needed nor wanted that type of gentleman in her life. Despite her conflicting feelings, she answered, “I... am flattered.”
“I have a weakness for freckles, you see. I hope you would not mind if I called on you?”
“I... suppose not.” Despite her reservations about him, Phoebe was staring at his shoulders now. His greatcoat was a snug fit on his broad shoulders, and she wondered if she was a weak woman for noticing such things. “But if your attention would unsettle my aunt in any way, I would rather you didn't. If you are already her beau...”
“I don't believe she would care. My past flirtations with Miss Sutton have been harmless, and tragically one-sided.”
Phoebe simply replied with, “ah.”
“I would like to get better acquainted with you, Miss Bowden. I hope I will be allowed such a chance.”
When the waltz finally ended, Phoebe could not wait to return to her aunt. For inexplicable reasons, she felt wary of Mr. Wolfe. He was far too handsome and far too smooth for his interest in her to be genuine. As far as she was concerned, the name Wolfe was entirely appropriate.
As soon as he returned her to her aunt, Phoebe's suspicions were confirmed. Marie immediately leaned toward her and whispered, “Be wary of that one...”
“Oh?” Phoebe's hands fidgeted rapidly. Though she had her own reservations, she wanted to hear her aunt's opinion. “And for what reason should I be wary?”
“Mr. Wolfe introduced himself as a friend of mine, but I'm not entirely certain I would describe him as such,” Marie explained. “Gossip is sometimes unavoidable... and in the case of Mr. Wolfe, I believe what I have heard.”
“What have you heard?” Phoebe watched Augustus move across the room—in the direction of prettier prey. When she saw him chatting with two young ladies, she was stricken by an unexpected pang of jealousy.
“He flirts with many young women... and has a special interest in bored widows,” Marie attempted to explain. “Plainly put, he is a bit of a rake, and I would advise you to keep your distance.”
“He wants to call on me.” She immediately wished she had not told her aunt his intentions. What if, contrary to what he said, Augustus never visited? It would make her look foolish and pitiable.
“You should be cordial with him, I suppose. I do not think he is the worst sort of blackguard. However, if I was you, I would not allow myself to get too attached to him.”
“I won't,” her niece assured her. “I have no interest in such a man.”
Across the room, Julian Sedgeford secretly observed a particular young lady and her aunt. Both he and his nephew, Edward Rhodes, seemed to have their attention fixed on the pretty pair.
“You should talk to her, Uncle,” the younger man suddenly said.
“Pardon? Of whom do you speak?” Julian feigned ignorance.
“Miss... Sutton? Is that her
name? Unless my eyes deceive me, you have been gazing in her direction since we arrived.”
“Your eyes do deceive you,” Julian corrected him. “If I happen to be gazing in her direction, it is because I am studying her niece and thinking you should reacquaint yourself with the girl.”
“She is lovely,” Edward admitted. “Though I am sure she would have no interest in me.”
“She appears to be lonely... and the only gentleman she has danced with, to my knowledge, is that dastard Augustus Wolfe.”
“Augustus?” the young man sneered. “Surely she deserves better than that!”
“She certainly does... and you are the better man who shall save her. Come.” Julian left his nephew no choice: he seized his arm and tugged him in the direction of the aforementioned ladies. “I am at least somewhat acquainted with my brother's fiance, so I shall make the necessary introductions.”
When they appeared in front of the ladies, Miss Sutton, in particular, looked a bit surprised to see them. “Ah, Mr. Sedgeford!” Marie exclaimed. Sedgeford. It always felt odd to utter that name while referring to anyone but Charles. In fact, her tongue tripped on the word as she said it, almost as if it rebelled against the idea. “How unexpected. It has been far too long. How have you been?”
“Well enough, I suppose. And you, Miss Sutton?” He was tempted to ask about his brother's letters, but he did not want to dampen an otherwise pleasant evening.
“Quite well,” Marie replied, then turned her attention to the young man standing beside him. “And who, might I ask, is this?”
“This is Edward Rhodes. My nephew,” Julian said.
“Edward Rhodes...” Phoebe whispered the name. “Edward... Rhodes.”
Edward assumed she was poring over his name, trying to decide where she had heard it before, so he put her mind at rest. “You met me before, Miss Bowden. It was several years ago. We met at a picnic, and you brutalized me with a stick.”
“Oh dear...” Phoebe clasped a hand over her face and groaned. “I believe I do remember that... vaguely.”
“As I recall, you were quite the terror!” Julian added with a chuckle. “You were all my nephew could talk about for weeks!”
Phoebe could feel herself blushing yet again. It hardly seemed like an appropriate time to have her childhood antics discussed. “I am very sorry, Mr. Rhodes.”
“Good gracious, you needn't apologize!” Edward threw back his head and laughed. “It was ages ago, and we were children then.”
As Julian and Marie seemed to gravitate into a conversation of their own, Phoebe was left to converse with the younger gentleman. “Nevertheless, I feel sheepish. I daresay my child self is much different from my adult self.”
“I don't doubt it. You seem very graceful and placid now.”
“Oh, I am far from graceful! I scarcely got through the waltz without tripping over my own toes!”
“Likewise, Miss Bowden. I am afraid I am not particularly light on my feet.”
“Then we mustn't dance together, for it sounds as if it would be catastrophic!”
A slight smile tipped Edward's lips as he studied her face. Now that he was standing close to her, he thought she looked quite handsome. Her copper hair and plentiful freckles were undeniably charming. He, on the other hand, had very little to recommend him—not in his estimation, anyway. His build was slight, he had spots, his brown eyes were dull, and his brown hair was overlong and terrifically unkempt. He might have made an effort to look more presentable if he knew he would be conversing with such a lovely young lady.
“As I recall...” Phoebe began, “you were a year younger than me. That, for some odd reason, was a thought that stuck in my head... perhaps because I could not fathom playing with someone younger than myself.”
“I am only eighteen,” he said, “but I cannot recall if that makes me younger or older.”
“I am nineteen, so I was correct.” Phoebe hitched a shoulder, as if she was indifferent to their discussion. “So why does a young gentleman such as yourself attend a gathering such as this? These horrendous assemblies are usually attended by those in search of a husband or wife. Being so young, you cannot possibly want a wife!”
“And why not? I am not much younger than you!”
“There is not a tremendous amount of pressure on men to marry young... not like there is for women,” Phoebe said. “You could wait another decade and still be thought of as a youthful bachelor.”
“That seems terribly unfair.”
“Does it not?” Phoebe simultaneously rolled her eyes, shook her head, and sighed. “Truth be told, I have no interest in finding a husband myself, but it is what's expected of me.”
“Truly, I don't envy you.”
“Of course you don't, for there are very few reasons to envy a lady. We have very few options, and our entire success seems to depend on how pretty and rich and charming we are. And seeing as I am not pretty, rich or charming... I am entirely without hope.”
“You seem very pretty and charming to me,” Edward defended her against her own self-criticism. “And I'm not overly concerned with wealth.”
“It is kind of you to say that... but honestly... everyone cares about wealth. Our entire society revolves around it. Without money, you are no one. You are... insignificant.”
Edward tossed up his shoulders in a shrug. “I suppose I cannot argue with that. I--”
Before he could utter another word, Augustus Wolfe suddenly reappeared in front of them. “Miss Bowden...” spoke the rake, “Would you care to dance with me again? I find I have no desire to dance with anyone but you.”
“I... y-you...” She was tongue-tied. Phoebe tried to look to her aunt for guidance, but she was deeply engrossed in her conversation with Mr. Sedgeford. She wanted to decline—he was, after all, not the sort of man she had hoped to attract. But when she started to speak, she was rendered powerless by his icy blue eyes. “Yes. I would like to dance. Very much so.”
“Very good! Then let us go.” As Augustus took Phoebe's arm, he flashed a grin in the direction of Edward.
It did not take Augustus long to determine that his young rival would be no threat.
Chapter Twelve
As she stared at the calling card in her hand, Phoebe was unsure of how she felt.
“Well...?” her aunt pressed her for an answer. “Who is it?”
“Apparently, Edward Rhodes has come to call on me.” There was, perhaps, a hint of disappointment in her voice. Of the two gentlemen she conversed with yesterday, Mr. Rhodes was the one less likely to set her pulse racing. He was, however, the kinder and safer option, so she attempted to change her tone. “I am surprised he would call on me so soon after we met.”
“You must have made quite and impression on the young man,” her aunt suggested.
“Surely not!” The ladies sent the maid to retrieve Mr. Rhodes, and as they waited, Phoebe said, “We should try to appear busy and not make it look as if we are sitting here, quietly anticipating his arrival.”
“Of course,” her aunt agreed, picked up her needlepoint, and continued to sew. Phoebe had removed her spectacles, which she only required for reading, so the book on her lap was entirely useless. However, she kept her eyes on the page, pretending to read as the young man entered the drawing room.
Edward swept his hat from his head as he entered, revealing a shock of wild brown hair. When she realized his hair was in complete disarray, Phoebe's nose involuntarily wrinkled. His brown greatcoat was a bit shabby, and even his cravat was noticeably rumpled. She would have preferred it if he was at least somewhat mindful of his appearance.
“Miss Bowden,” his voice sounded a bit high-pitched, likely because of his young age. “Thank you for receiving me. It is very lovely to see you again.”
“Likewise, Mr. Rhodes. You look... well.” Phoebe forced her lips into a smile.
“And you look very pretty, if I may say so.” He turned his attention to Marie, who had set her needlepoint aside and was watch
ing intently. “And you as well, Miss Sutton.”
“You're too kind. Truly.” Though she appreciated the compliment, somewhere in the back of Marie's mind, she realized she was old enough to be his mother. The thought was so unsettling, she actually shuddered.
“I'm not interrupting anything, I hope?” the young man asked.
“Not at all,” Phoebe answered. “Please, do sit.”
He sat across from her and proceeded to wring his hands uncomfortably. He was clearly nervous—for what reason, she did not know. “W-what are you reading?” he stammered the question.
“Oh, it is nothing worth mentioning. It is an inane novel, a diversion.” Marie closed the book and set it aside. “I often read for pleasure.”
“As do I,” he answered with a smile.
“Is that so? And what sort of novels do you read?”
“Oftentimes I enjoy reading about history... though I'm sure that makes me sound dreadfully boring.”
“Not boring,” Phoebe disagreed. “History is an important subject to learn. You are expanding your knowledge.”
“I suppose...”
After he replied, an awkward silence reigned. Edward was clearly shy. Phoebe wanted to continue the discussion, but she also did not converse easily, and she no idea what to say. Finally, to end the uncomfortable moment, Marie was forced to speak up, “What other pastimes do you enjoy, Mr. Rhodes?”
He answered timidly, “I suppose... well, I do like to paint and draw, but I fear I might lack talent for it.”
“I enjoy dabbling with watercolors as well,” Phoebe said. “But my talent is similarly lacking.”
Another silence invaded the room, during which Edward was nervously scratching the back of his head. Being the untrained youth that he was, he had no idea how to keep a young lady's interest. “I...Miss Bowden, I...” The subsequent pause made him wince. He was desperate to think of another topic—anything to keep the conversation flowing would have sufficed. “Do you like dogs?”
The Captain's Letters Page 6
