His Lady Midnight

by Jo Ann Ferguson

  “Galen, are you mad?”

  “Probably.” He cocked a single eyebrow in a clear challenge.

  “You will hurt your side further with these antics.”

  “Probably.” His voice was tight, and his smile evaporated.

  “Then put me down.”

  “I think that would be wise.”

  Phoebe waited for him to move; then she realized that putting her down might hurt him worse. She shouted to Tate to come and help.

  The door of Thistlewood Cottage swung wide, and Vogel rushed out to help. As the butler took Phoebe into his own arms, Galen leaned on Tate who helped him into the cottage. With the tact of a diplomat, the butler greeted them serenely. “Good evening, my lord, my lady. Lady Phoebe, your room is ready whenever you wish to retire.”

  Phoebe glanced at Galen who was struggling not to grin, even though his face was tight with pain. Because he knew that the butler was well aware where Galen had retrieved her from or because it was ridiculous to be talking to the butler while Vogel held her? Either way, she intended to put an end to this.

  She tapped Vogel’s arm. He set her on her feet, but his face remained as calm as if nothing had been out of the ordinary. She brushed her gown over her filthy shoes and realized she had left her parasol and bonnet at Miss Raymond’s. Now she understood why Galen’s lips were twitching. She must look like a complete hoyden after her misadventures.

  “Thank you, Vogel,” she said, deciding to follow the butler’s lead and act as if nothing were out of the ordinary.

  “You are welcome, my lady.” He shifted with obvious disquiet before saying, “Mr. Townsend left a message for you, my lord.”

  “About what?” Galen winced again and put his hand to his left side.

  “About his plans for this evening. Mr. Townsend asked that you—”

  Phoebe interrupted, “Delivering that message will have to wait until Lord Townsend has had a chance to rest. Tate, take him into the parlor while I change. Vogel, Lord Townsend would like some brandy to ease his discomfort.”

  “You are a termagant tonight.” Galen chuckled. “I suspect I would be a fool not to acquiesce to your orders.”

  “There would be no need for orders if you would not risk yourself with silly heroics.”

  He caught her arm as she was about to go to the steps leading to the wing where the bedchambers were. “Silly?” he asked, his voice a deep growl. “Was I an air-dreamer to believe that you might appreciate what I did for you this evening?”

  “I meant only trying to sweep me off my feet and carry me into the cottage.” She chose each word carefully, aware of Tate and Vogel, who were reluctant witnesses to this. “I appreciate everything else you did for me tonight.”

  “Everything?”

  She smiled when the twinkle in his eyes warned that he was thinking more of the kisses they had shared than of how he had saved her reputation. Brushing her lips against his cheek, she whispered, “Everything.” She laughed, then said, “Now go and sit and sip your brandy so you do not hurt yourself worse.”

  “Yes, my lady.” He started to bow but paused.

  “Vogel,” she said, “please assist Lord Townsend to the parlor before his own skimble-skamble injures him.”

  The butler nodded, and she thought she saw his lips twitching. She hurried up the few steps toward her bedchamber. This had been a most extraordinary day, and she was glad it was over. She needed the night to think about what she would do now. She needed to go back to London, but she had promised Galen that he could escort her to a soirée. Her trip to Town must be postponed another day, and then …

  For the first time in five years, she had been able to stop thinking about the rescues that had filled her life. Now, as she touched the jewelry box Galen had given her again, she wanted to think only of Galen and how his kisses sent a fiery rush of delight through her. She intended to savor them as long as she could, because she knew how short this delightful interlude would be.

  Thirteen

  Sipping on his brandy, Galen winced as each breath ached through him again. By Jove, it was so easy to forget this injury when he drew Phoebe into his arms. He wished it was as easy to forget her words.

  He had been want-witted to try to play her dashing hero and carry her into the cottage like a knight of old rescuing his fair damsel by taking her over the drawbridge to safety. Her retort, based far more on reasonable behavior than his actions had been, had infuriated him for the moment before her next words made him see his lack of sense.

  Phoebe was always so blasted sensible. Even her work to steal convicts from the ships was based on a peculiar logic that made sense when she explained it. At the very least, she should be pleased that, instead of going himself, he had sent Tate and the carriage to retrieve Carr who had sent word that his horse had gone lame on one of the roads beyond Bath. What his brother had been doing far from Bath all day was a question that could not be answered until Carr returned here.

  “You are scowling. Are you in pain?” asked Phoebe as she walked into the parlor.

  Galen hid his smile as he admired her loveliness, now properly framed by neatly combed hair and a clean, pale green gown. He was tempted to tell her that he preferred her with her golden hair falling free and a spot of dirt on the tip of her upturned nose.

  Quietly, he said, “If I tell you that I am indeed in pain, I collect you will chide me again for being less than sensible.”

  “Probably,” she replied in the same terse tone he had used out by the carriage.

  He laughed, then put his hand to his side. “I deserved that.”

  “But you did not deserve this pain.” She knelt by his chair. “I owe you a debt I can never repay for all you have done for me.”

  “It has been my pleasure.” He put his hand over hers on the chair. Gazing into eyes that glowed with pleasure at his touch, he wondered if any moment could be as perfect as this one.

  The moment ended when Vogel came into the parlor. “Mr. Townsend to see you, my lord.”

  Galen pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the pinch along his side. Why was the butler announcing Carr as if his brother were a stranger?

  “Get out of my way!” came a bellow from the hall.

  “Oh, my,” murmured Phoebe beside him as she rose with a whisper of silk.

  Galen was tempted to repeat her words but was silent as his brother stormed into the room. Water splashed from every step Carr took, because he was drenched from head to foot. Glancing at the windows, Galen saw that it was not raining. What had soaked his brother? As Carr came closer, Galen’s nose wrinkled. Whatever had washed over his brother, it was not rain.

  When Phoebe choked, Galen pulled a handkerchief from beneath his coat. He handed it to her, wanting to apologize for the malodorous stench coming from his brother. She pressed the linen to her face, but not before he saw that the choking sound had not been coming from her attempt not to retch. She was trying not to laugh.

  “By Jove, Carr, what happened to you?” he asked, steeling himself for the fury that was sure to spurt at him.

  “I was attacked by two bumpkins.” He touched his cheek that was obviously bruised. “They took offense for no reason at all.”

  “No reason at all?”

  Carr tore off his coat and threw it on the floor. Vogel rushed to pick it up before the odor from it sank into the rug. Tugging off one boot, Carr flung it at the hearth. He pulled on the other boot, but it must have gotten stuck because he hopped about in a circle like a half-mad hare. Finally he got it off and sent it flying as he had the first.

  Phoebe gave a soft cry when it hit a vase that wobbled and fell to the floor, shattering. “Have you lost what little sense you ever had?”

  “Mayhap it was beat out of me,” Carr fired back.

  She started to reply, but Galen put his hand on her arm as he asked, “Why did they give you such a thrashing?”

  “You would have known if you had been there.”

  “Excuse me?”

>   Carr strode toward them and jabbed a finger at the top button of his brother’s waistcoat. “I sent you a message that my horse had gone lame and I needed a way home.”

  “I sent the carriage for you.”

  “Too late. I thought I could depend on you, Galen.”

  Phoebe could not remain silent any longer. “He did the best he could to keep you from having to walk back to Thistlewood Cottage.”

  “I sent that message more than two hours ago,” Carr said, not looking at her. All his fury was focused on his brother.

  “I was not here when it arrived.” Galen seated Phoebe on a settee and sat beside her. “As soon as I returned, I sent Tate to bring you home. Did he miss you along the road?”

  “He met me on the bridge.”

  Galen nodded. “Then why are you complaining?”

  “I could have been killed! You should have come to my assistance.”

  “I told you that I was not here when your message arrived.”

  Finally Carr looked at Phoebe. “And where were you?”

  “I was retrieving Phoebe who had been calling on a friend of this family,” Galen replied.

  Carr snarled a curse that sent heat flashing up Phoebe’s face but added nothing else as Mrs. Boyd came into the parlor.

  The housekeeper’s smile was strained, so she must have heard the raised voices from the hallway. Her voice had a brittle brightness. “I thought a light supper would be welcome, my lord.”

  Phoebe smiled. She had missed both her tea and supper, and cakes were set on one side of the tray. “Those look luscious.”

  With a laugh, Galen took one of the delicately frosted cakes as the housekeeper set the tray on a table in front of the settee. He handed it to her.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “You should have known that Sandra Raymond could not provide you with a meal at this time of day,” Carr said as he reached in front of his brother and picked up a cup and the pitcher of cream.

  Phoebe froze with the cake halfway to her lips. She quickly lowered it, her appetite gone.

  “Miss Raymond?” asked Galen. “I do not recall saying where Phoebe was.”

  She wanted to congratulate him on his tone, which suggested he had no idea what his brother was talking about. Taking a small bite of the cake, she chewed it. The cake had a light lemon scent, but she could not taste it through her dismay.

  “But you did say,” Carr said. “You said she was at the house of a friend of the family. That Phoebe needed assistance to return here from making that call suggests that it was not a commonplace one. Putting that with the fact that Sandra is a very good friend of this family suggests you had to retrieve her from a most unexpected call.” He gave his brother a superior smile. “The last time I spoke with Sandra, she asked where you were and why you had not called on her as you have before, Galen.”

  Phoebe submerged the gasp that threatened to betray her shock. She was not going to give Carr the satisfaction of viewing her dismay at his accurate guess. Or was it just a guess? Had he heard something that had revealed the truth?

  “Odd,” Galen said as he selected a cake for himself. As he sat back on the settee, his elbow jabbed Phoebe in the side.

  She looked at him and saw his taut smile. Hoping she was saying the right thing to go along with whatever he planned to say, she asked, “What is odd?”

  “Miss Raymond should know why I have not called on her.” He faced his brother again. “I had no reason to visit her to save you from your own folly when you were involved in fisticuffs in daisyville.”

  “Until Phoebe gave her a look-in?”

  Phoebe saw Carr watching her closely, so she gave him her most brilliant smile. “Miss Raymond,” she said, keeping her voice light, although her heart ached, “was an excellent hostess when she invited me in to escape the storm.”

  “She does have that reputation.” Carr laughed again.

  “Carr, you should recall yourself.” Galen set himself on his feet. “You are speaking to a lady, not one of your convenients. Phoebe is trying to be gracious about a most ungracious situation.”

  Laughing as she reached for a cup for herself, Phoebe said, “But Miss Raymond was also most gracious. She went out of her way to protect my reputation after she realized I was not interested in the opportunity to work for her.”

  Galen’s laugh echoed off the ceiling, but she saw anger still darkened his eyes as he sat again. “Did you accept?”

  “She intimated that she believed I could do quite well.” Her smile became sincere. “I have never thought of myself as a businesswoman, so that was a compliment.”

  When Carr muttered something, she adroitly changed the subject. He said little at first, and she guessed he was vexed that she had not shattered into tears at his insinuations.

  Trying to clear her mind, Phoebe leaned back in her chair as Galen talked to his brother about the gathering at the duchess’s house the next night. She rocked her cup and watched the tea swirl within it. A hand over hers caused her to look up to see Galen smiling at her. With a smile of her own, she said, “I must own that it is good to be …”

  “Home?” When she lowered her eyes, he reached to tip her face up toward him.

  She drew back before Carr could make some sort of inflammatory comment. Coming to her feet, she said, “I bid you gentlemen a good evening. No doubt Carr wishes to get cleaned up from his adventures, and I believe I shall bring this exciting day to an end.”

  “Phoebe …” She was astonished when Galen came to his feet and faced her. She clasped her hands as her fragile smile vanished. How she longed to wrap her arms around him and delight in the rapture he offered.

  “Shall we have a walk in the garden before retiring?” Galen asked.

  “It is so late,” she hedged. She fought her wayward heart, which urged her to forget the pangs of her conscience and take this chance to be with him … alone. “I have nothing to put over my shoulders.”

  “Both problems are easily solved, my dear,” he said, holding out his hand. “You had a long nap this afternoon, so you cannot be tired.” He strode to the bellpull. When Vogel appeared almost instantly, Galen added, “Please bring Lady Phoebe’s paisley shawl.”

  Vogel nodded before going back out into the hall.

  “How did you know I had a paisley shawl?” Phoebe asked.

  “All ladies have a paisley shawl.” Galen laughed heartily. He was facing her, so his brother could not see how he flinched with pain at the motion. “Carr, excuse us. I cannot resist discovering how the moon glistens off Phoebe’s hair.”

  She used the same light tone he had, wondering if he had to strain to make it sound genuine as she did. “You are a charmer, Galen Townsend.”

  “I try, but you see through my ploys.” He took her shawl from Vogel and placed it over her shoulders.

  “Galen,” Carr said as Galen led her toward the doors at the back of the room.

  “Yes?”

  Phoebe watched as Galen turned and the brothers locked gazes. If some unspoken message passed between them, she was not privy to it.

  “I thought we were going to raise a cloud with some of those excellent cigars I brought from Town, Galen,” Carr said.

  “Damn,” Galen muttered. “Too many people in this house.”

  “There are just the three of us,” she said as softly.

  “Which is one too many.” He raised his voice so his brother could hear. “Even raising a cloud will not lessen the stench of your clothes, Carr. Why don’t you clean yourself and we will light those cigars when I get back?”

  Carr’s scowl deepened, but he nodded.

  Galen put his finger to his lips when she started to speak as they crossed the terrace toward the gardens that were sleeping in the shadows. She nodded, although she was unsure what he wanted to keep her from saying.

  Looking at the city on either side of the river, Phoebe took a deep breath of the damp air, which was clean of odors. From the distance came the call of a watc
hman announcing all was well. The jangle of harness and the clang of horses’ hooves rang clearly through the night.

  He slipped his fingers through hers as they walked from the thick shadows beneath one tree to the next. She waited for him to speak, but he said nothing until they reached a bench set on a knoll overlooking the river. No houses blocked the view of the river and the Abbey beyond it.

  “I like this spot,” he whispered. “It reminds me of a spot at Townsend Hall where Carr and I used to play when we were children. We would go there with our nurse and spend hours looking up at the star-strewn velvet of the night sky.”

  “My father often took me out to see the stars at Brackenton Park. He said there might come a time when I would need to find my way by following the stars.” She shook her head. “How long ago that seems. I never would have imagined how my life would unfold.”

  “And that you would spend the afternoon in a brothel?”

  She laughed. “That is not what I meant, but it is also quite true.”

  “What is it about you that urges me to share such silly, unimportant details of my childhood?”

  She hesitated. To speak the truth of how she longed to be familiar with everything about him would mean owning—to herself and to him—that she was in love with him. “Mayhap because you want to think about when times were simple and all troubles could be healed with an extra dessert.”

  He leaned against the tree and crossed his arms on his chest. “As you do?”

  “As I wish I could.”

  “If you believe that, then why are you so distrustful of everyone?”

  With a sigh, she went to sit on the marble bench. When he sat beside her, she knew she must be honest. “I do not want to endanger anyone else in the life I have chosen.”

  “So you keep everyone far from you?”

  “Yes.”

  Slipping his arm around her shoulder, he brought her back against him. Her head rested on his shoulder, and his mouth brushed against her ear, flinging a shiver of anticipation through her. “But, Phoebe, I do not want to be far from you. I would like to hold you very, very close.”