by Wendy Vella
“Oh, I see.” Phoebe looked up at the line of serious faced portraits above her.
“And I can no longer wait to hear how our gowns have been received.”
She saw the excitement in his eyes that she was sure both she and Hannah had mirrored in theirs.
“Well? Don’t make me wait, Phoebe. I have tried all evening to draw near you or Hannah but Ben or another of my friends pulls me in another direction.”
“Oh, Alex, it has been a wonderful night, starting with the Duchess of Hathaway who questioned Livvy about the designer of her gown.” Clapping her hands together she twirled in an excited circle. “We did as you told us to, and flattered everyone who asked. I have given the address to Madame Alexander’s to so many women that if they all come we will have work for many weeks.”
Alex took her hands and spun her in a circle as he, too, laughed.
“Phoebe, my love, I see success in our futures!”
She laughed as he hugged her close. Lifting her off her feet, he spun her in a circle before releasing her.
“And now we must return before we are noticed missing.”
“You go, Alex, and I shall follow momentarily. My feet hurt in these impossibly tight slippers, and I must sit for a few seconds before once again pasting on a smile and stroking the vanity of those I would rather not.”
“Ah, but they are the perfect decoration for that beautiful gown, my dear, and you will stroke and pander all night, if need be.”
Phoebe laughed and then hugged him once more before releasing him so he could leave the room. She sighed and wandered to the windows. It had begun; her head whirled with ideas. Tomorrow they would begin to design gowns for the women of London society.
“What the hell was that about?”
Phoebe spun so fast she stumbled, but instantly
righted herself. Looking to the door at the other end of the room that Alex had just departed from, she saw Finn walk in.
“I saw you in my brother’s arms, Phoebe. I will not allow you to play games with him!”
“It’s not what it seems, Finn.”
Phoebe’s heart thumped as he stalked towards her, suddenly so big and menacing he was no longer the gentle man she had danced with. His face was now forged in stone.
“Then what is it?”
He reached her in one more stride, his hands clamped around her upper arms.
“Let me go.”
“No.” He pulled her close and the breath left Phoebe’s lungs as he touched his lips to the skin of her neck. “I’ll never let you go.”
“Please, Finn, you must listen to me.”
The sensation of his lips was exquisite and Phoebe felt the slow throb of heat begin to fill her body again.
“He can’t have you, Phoebe. You’re mine.”
“No, it’s not that way between us, Finn. Alex and I we are friends.”
But he was past talking it seemed; instead, placing a hand on her chin, he tilted her head and took her lips in a long, slow exploration. Phoebe wanted to fight him but instead, as his lips touched hers, she felt her body ignite with pleasure as if she had been waiting for this, too.
“Open for me, Phoebe.”
She did as he asked and Finn slipped his tongue inside as she complied and deepened the kiss, pulling her closer until her breasts were crushed against his chest.
Finn picked her up and walked to the long table that sat between the windows. Placing her on top, he slipped his hand up her skirts, pushing them to her thighs and then stepped between her spread legs. Phoebe was beyond protest; she just wanted him to hold her, wanted him to ease the gnawing ache of need that had taken root inside her since the last time he kissed her.
He took her mouth again as his hand tugged the bodice of her dress lower until her breasts were free. She couldn’t think; her head was clouded with the scent and feel of him pressed against her.
“There will be no one else for either of us, Phoebe,” he rasped, lowering his head to place a long slow lick down her chest to the rise of one breast. “You’ll marry me.” His words sounded as if someone had ripped them from him, raw and hungry with need.
Phoebe heard her cries as he took the nipple into his mouth. Her body arched towards him pushing herself deeper into his mouth as she urged him to take more of her, ease the building pressure inside her body.
“Touch me, Phoebe.” The heat of his words blew over the sensitive flesh as he eased backwards to look at her.
She bit into the fabric on the tip of her fingers and pulled off her gloves and then she tugged his cravat free. Her fingers fumbled with the small buttons until she had his chest bared.
“God, yes.” The breath hissed from his throat as her hands trailed across his chest.
He was so warm; the wide, solid expanse of his heated chest was slopes and plains of muscle begging to be touched. Phoebe had never touched a man this way, so she went by instinct and stroked him with soft butterfly caresses. Moving lower, she trailed her hands over his ribs then smoothed her palm over his stomach, feeling the muscles clench under his fingers.
“You feel so different,” she whispered, bending forward to kiss his neck, inhaling the masculine scent.
“And you feel like heaven,” he whispered, easing her upright again so he could cup her breasts in his hands. Phoebe felt her eyes close as he rubbed his thumbs over her swollen nipples.
“Say it, Phoebe. Say you’re mine.”
“Yes,” she moaned low in her throat as his fingers tightened briefly.
One hand moved to her thigh, with fingers splayed as they traveled upwards slowly as his mouth moved back to hers. His chest brushed the sensitive tips of her nipples and Phoebe felt the pressure inside climb higher. He stroked her thigh, his fingers slowly moving inwards until he was touching her intimately, stroking the silken curls and lower to the swollen folds beneath. When he pushed a finger deep inside her, Phoebe shuddered. His thumb rubbed the small hard bud as he eased out of her then back in.
Her head was spinning, her body so taunt she would surely shatter. Wrenching her lips from his, she cried out his name. With one more thrust, she arched towards him as waved after wave of sensation poured through her. His lips captured hers as she cried out once more.
Slowly Phoebe regained her senses. She was slumped forward in his arms. Her breasts were freed and Finn stood between her spread legs. Dear Lord, anyone could have walked through the open door and seen them.
“I-I need to fix my clothing…please.”
“We will wed, Phoebe, as soon as it can be arranged.”
She didn’t look at him as he lifted her off the table, instead pulling up her bodice and smoothing her skirts.
“You understand that, don’t you, Phoebe?”
“You don’t want to marry me, Finn, you just want me. There is a difference.” Phoebe swallowed the pain these words caused her.
“No, there is not,” he said slowly, each word spoken clearly and concisely. “And had it been only desire I felt for you then I would not have stopped and would now be buried deep inside you and not standing here in pain.”
Lowering her hands to her sides at his coarse words, she looked at him, seeing the tension coiled tight in every line of his body.
“I need you to believe there is nothing between your brother and me.”
“It matters not,” he said, yet his eyes told her otherwise.
“It matters to me, Finn. If I am to marry a man who does not love me, the least I deserve is his trust.”
She saw a small flare of something in his eyes, and then it was gone.
“I will call upon Will tomorrow to discuss this.”
Phoebe felt anger begin to build inside her.
“Do you believe me when I say there is nothing between your brother and me, Finn?” His silence was so loud it made Phoebe flinch.
“If you have no respect for me, then at least have it for you brother, Lord Levermarch. He is one of the finest men of my acquaintances and up until a few minu
tes ago I had believed he had learnt that from you.”
Phoebe walked away from him then, making her way out the door she had entered not long before, only this time she was no longer smiling.
She was surprised to see that everyone was as she had left them as she re-entered the ballroom. How was that possible when she had changed? She had allowed a man to take liberties with her body and she had enjoyed it, even encouraged it. For a brief moment in time, she had lost herself in the arms of the man she loved. She acknowledged now what her heart had told her for awhile. She loved Finneous Levermarch with all her heart and she was a fool. He could never love her or trust her. He wanted her body but nothing more, and because of it he was willing to sacrifice himself on the altar of his lust. Well, it would be a cold day in hell before Phoebe wed a man because he wanted to bed her, even if she loved him.
Brushing past a few guests, she made her way slowly to where she knew Livvy stood. She had never felt like that before, the total blinding need to be possessed by another person, so much so that you forgot all reason. Why did he have to be the man to make her realize what could truly be experienced between a man and a woman?
“Hello, Phoebe. Where have you been?”
“Searching for, Hannah, Livvy. She is quite the social butterfly tonight. It is hard to find her as she seems to be flitting everywhere,” she said, keeping her eyes away from her eldest sister. Livvy would know instantly that something was wrong if she really looked at Phoebe.
“She is showing off her gown as we have both been doing all evening. Madame Alexander’s’ name is on everyone’s lips, Phoebe. I do believe after tonight you will be inundated with people wanting you to make them a gown.”
“I hope so,” Phoebe said, trying to sound excited.” Where’s Will?”
“Here, and just in time to ask you to dance, little sister,” he said, holding out one hand to her. “Don’t miss me too much, my love.”
“I shall try and bear up under the strain, husband.”
“Such a smart mouth my wife has,” Will added as they reached the dance floor. “A waltz; now I will be the envy of every man.” Turning her in his arms, they began to move down the room.
They danced for a while keeping their steps small as there were many guests on the floor and Phoebe took the moments to get herself under control.
“I saw you come back in through the same doors Finn has just walked through, and I have to say you both have identical expressions on your faces, Phoebe. Care to tell me why?”
“I was looking for Hannah, Will. Now, while I have you to myself I was wondering if you could tell me when your next shipment of fabric will arrive.”
He swung them around a couple of dancers and towards a free space before talking.
“Phoebe, I know that you and Finn haven’t always got on, but he is a good man, I assure you, and saved my life a time or two in India”
She wanted to ask how Finn had saved him, was eager to hear more of the man she loved, yet she did not. Her love was a foolish thing and something she needed to keep locked away, deep inside her. She, Phoebe Langley, was now the victim of unrequited love, the one kind she had always vowed never to have.
“Will it arrive within the month, perhaps, Will? It is just that Hannah wished for me to ask you as we will need more fabrics soon, especially after the interest shown in our dresses this evening.” Phoebe kept her expression carefully composed as she smiled up at her brother-in-law.
“Alright. I will not speak of Finn if you do not wish me to, and the next shipment should arrive in three weeks.”
Her chin was lifted by a firm hand and Will studied her intently. “However, I will add that I have known you long enough to know when something is bothering you, Phoebe. Therefore, I will just say that should you need me I will be there.”
“I know that,” Phoebe sniffed and then looked away from his knowing eyes.
“Would you like to go home now?” His words were gentle.
Phoebe nodded but said nothing further. Her throat felt thick with unshed tears as they made their way back to where Livvy stood. She hated that her emotions were in turmoil, and it was all that horrid man’s fault.
She watched Will whisper something to Livvy, and then much to Phoebe’s relief, they were soon saying their good-byes.
“Well, I think we can say that the first official outing of Madame Alexander’s’ gowns is a success,” Livvy said with a loud yawn as she leaned into her husband while the carriage carried them through the streets of London.
Phoebe nodded and then looked out the windows. She was happy for Hannah and Alex, yet could not find it in herself to smile. Tonight she had realized that she loved Viscount Levermarch and that was not something she would ever rejoice in. Tomorrow she would wake and throw herself into her new venture, but tonight she would weep into her pillows, and it would be the only time she would allow herself to do so.
Finn left the ball when he realized that both Phoebe and Alex had gone. During the slow carriage ride home he thought about her, how smooth her skin had felt to touch, the taste and feel of her. His body was hard with need that only she could ease. She made him feel things, so many emotions; some elated him others confused him. But one thing was for certain, Finn realized as he entered his house. He now believed her claims that she and Alex were not intimately involved. Phoebe was flirtatious yet not dishonest. He knew that just as he knew now she would never give herself to a man she cared nothing for. For Alex’s part, Finn believed he felt something for Phoebe, but he was not sure what. The sight of them together in that gallery kept niggling at him. Why were they there alone? It made no sense for them to be there unless they had a specific purpose. What purpose?
He sat in his study with a bottle of brandy at his elbow as he prepared to wait for his brothers. He would marry her because he could not live without her. She had lit a fire inside him that only she could extinguish. He dreamt about her, woke with her in his head and thought about her all day. Was this love? Christ, if it was he was doomed to a life of verbal assaults and constant challenges.
“And I want that,” Finn whispered realizing it was true. He wanted her spirit to keep him alive, to awaken him from his controlled existence. Nights spent with her in his arms filled his future. She’d been so passionate tonight, eager for his touch. Shifting in his seat, he dragged his mind away from what had taken place in the Hathaway gallery and tried to work out how best to approach her about their future. She was a strong-willed woman, his strong-willed woman. Finn felt himself smile at the thought.
He sat there until he had everything settled in his head and still his brothers had not returned, so he climbed the stairs and into bed. Tomorrow he would visit her, take her for a drive and explain how their future would be. Smiling into the darkness, Finn fell asleep feeling better than he had in weeks.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“I hope your have a good reason for hauling me out of bed, Finn, when I only entered it a few hours ago?”
Finn replaced his cup in the saucer and folded his newspaper as Alex entered the breakfast parlor. He was, as usual, immaculately dressed; however, Finn could see the signs of a night of revelry in his bloodshot eyes.
“Sit, before you fall,” he said, waving him into a seat. He then poured Alex tea, which he inhaled deeply before downing half a cup.
“God, that is good.”
“Why were you alone in the gallery with Phoebe last night, Alex?”
The cup was replaced loudly in the saucer, and Finn marveled it did not break, such was the force.
“She is a beautiful woman, Alex, I understand how she must look to you. She is outspoken unlike many other debutantes and gathers men around her with just a look.”
He didn’t think it was possible, but the rest of Alex’s color drained from his face.
“You think I was…that Phoebe and I were… No! By God, Finn, no we were not!”
Alex jumped to his feet, fists clenched, as he glared at him, and if Finn was being
honest, the reaction was genuine and the relief that flooded through him nearly made him light-headed.
“I have never thought of her that way. We are friends, nothing more.”
“I saw you holding each other, Alex,” Finn said softly, although just saying the words made him want to breathe fire. No one would touch her again, but him.
“Friends, Finn, we are friends and it is insulting to her and to me to suggest otherwise.”
“Don’t raise your voice to me, Alexander,” Finn said.
“I’ll bloody well raise my voice if you speak of her that way again. It’s bad enough that you constantly believe the worst of me, but I won’t have you doing so with Phoebe. You’ve always judged her and found her wanting. I’ve heard you saying she’s outspoken and has no manners, yet she is the kindest, most genuine woman I know.”
“Sit down, Alex. You’re getting upset and I simply want to talk to you. Furthermore, I do not always believe the worst in you.”
“No, I won’t sit just so you can lecture me again. ‘Invest in this, Alex,’” he mimicked Finn’s voice. ‘Don’t do this or that.’ I’m twenty bloody two, stop mothering me!”
Finn rose slowly and braced his hand on the table.
“Very well, tell me where you have been going every day if it is not to some gambling hell. Tell me who you have invested in? If you want to be treated like an adult, start behaving like one.”
Alex sneered at him, which did not sit well with Finn.
“Remove that expression, Alexander.”
“You’ve been investigating me haven’t you, Finn? Trying to see who or what I have invested in.”
He didn’t deny it as it was the truth; however his search had come up with nothing.
“You tell me.”
“I won’t, nor will I stand here another minute and let you insult Phoebe. What surprises me is that you haven’t yet had me followed, as surely that would be your next logical step.”
“I have never had you followed!” Finn thundered, feeling the leash he kept on his temper release.
“I don’t believe you.”
