“I can think of several ways that would be delightful,” he said in a seductively low voice. “Unfortunately, I am so greatly in your debt, no thanks are owed. I am pleased to be able to perform some service of use to you.”
He paused, looking at her sincerely for a moment.
“You must be exhausted,” she said apologetically. “This was far more activity than you should have had for one morning. We must get you back downstairs to your room so you can rest.”
“I will agree on one condition.”
“Which is?”
“That you will promise to spend some time visiting with me this afternoon. You lavish all your attention on children, invalids, and helpless creatures. Now that I am so much improved, you have been avoiding my company. Am I so disagreeable? It is almost enough to remove my incentive to get well.”
“Oh dear, we can’t allow that,” she said quite seriously. You must get well, so you can leave—the sooner the better for both of us. She had not asked to feel this attraction between them. Like the earl himself, it seemed to grow stronger every day. Avoiding him had been the easiest way to deal with it. “You leave me no choice but to come.”
***
On the whole, Devenham found life itself was improving. His strength was coming back a little more each day, although he still limped and used the cane. His shoulder seldom bothered him anymore. Phoebe seemed resigned to keeping him company, and he had come to believe that she was in actuality a good deal more fond of him than she let on.
Mullins had proved to be as good a detective as he had hoped, piecing together an account of Phoebe’s history that disturbed the earl whenever he thought about it. He had not given Phoebe any indication that he knew, hoping that one day she would feel comfortable enough with him to confide it on her own.
Devenham had been in his room, resting as he frequently did in the wing chair by the window, on the day Mullins finally came to him. Mullins had wisely engaged the vast company of backstairs humanity in his quest for information, casually dropping a remark or a question or a few shillings here or there, pulling information from servants in the Allingtons’ own household as well as the Brodfields’, and a good many more who merely had good memories for gossip as he traveled about Town on the earl’s mission.
“Married for two years they was, without the slightest sign o’ trouble,” he reported. “Supposed to have been a love match made in heaven. It was a shock to everyone when ’e was found dead. It was a clear case of suicide—apparently the pistol ’e used was still in ’is hand.”
“Suicide!” Devenham had risen from his chair and paced to the fireplace and back, placing his cane with exaggerated care. Suicides were scandalous indeed, although not terribly uncommon, yet it was not at all what he had expected. “Was he deeply in debt? I would have thought his father . . .”
“Apparently no one knew. They say even ’is creditors did not fathom the depth of ’is folly; not one knew o’ the others. But that is not all. It gets worse.”
“Worse?” Devenham thought of the gentle spirit he had come to know, and of how greatly she must have suffered at such a sudden and very final parting from the man she had loved so much.
“They found ’im in an alley behind a Covent Garden nunnery. The abbess swore ’e had used to be a regular there, until ’e set up one of the doxies as ’is mistress. She said ’e had come back that night, drunk and swearin’, lookin’ for the woman and claimin’ that she was ’is wife.”
“He must have been mad!”
“This all came out after they found ’im dead. Then it seems some marriage papers were found among ’is things that showed ’e did marry the woman, even though ’e was already married to Lady Brodfield.”
“Dear God! Bigamy!” Devenham sank back into his chair. “Is that all?” he asked faintly.
Mullins nodded.
Devenham could see now why Phoebe had been so devastated. The scandal had to have been enormous. He had been in the south of France with Wellington at that time—February of 1814. He was surprised that they had heard no word of it, for usually the mails were full of London’s latest gossip.
Yet he found the whole story hard to fathom. “Was there an investigation?” he asked Mullins. He simply could not believe that any man married to Phoebe would have conducted himself in such a manner.
“There was the usual inquest, but the rulin’ of suicide was never considered much in question.”
Devenham shook his head in disbelief. “Why would anyone . . . It makes no sense.” The story had deeply shocked him.
Still, his brain worked, trying to grapple with it. The rumors about the Brodfields that he couldn’t quite recall had nothing to do with this tragedy, he was certain. For one thing, they predated the episode, as the last time he had been in London had been during the Season of the preceding year. A sudden thought occurred to him, although he disliked it.
“They had no children, in two years of marriage?”
“No, sir.”
“What of the other so-called marriage? The one to the doxy?”
“I don’t know.”
“All right, Mullins. You’ve done well. Find out who this other woman was and what happened to her. I want to know when that false marriage took place and if there were any children. Can you find that out?”
“I’ll try my best, sir.”
Mullins was looking at him with a peculiar expression almost like sympathy. Why? Was he behaving strangely? He didn’t think so. He just wanted to know more. “Thank you, Mullins. I know you will. I will try to dig up some information, also.”
He let his gaze fall absently on the writing table where Phoebe had helped to write his letters. How could she have mourned so for a man who had put her through hell? Did love make people completely irrational?
Still, Mullins was looking at him with that odd expression. A strange sensation crept along his pine. “Blast and confound it, man! You can stop looking at me like that! I just find the whole story hard to accept,” he blustered impatiently. “My interest in it does not mean that I am in love with Lady Brodfield.”
Chapter Nine
Phoebe thought Devenham seemed to treat her a little differently in the days that followed, although she could not quite say how or why. His health continued to improve. He had insisted on gradually reducing his reliance on the laudanum, and had grown increasingly restless.
He began to go out, sometimes accompanying Edward to White’s or Brooks’s, sometimes hiring a hackney to take him to Hatchard’s or Weston’s or to dine with army friends at Stephen’s Hotel. He seldom stayed out long, for he still tired easily, and always when he returned he would seem anxious to see her.
The volume of mail delivered to the Allington house tripled with the invitations and notes that began to arrive once the earl’s presence there became generally known. On several occasions he asked Phoebe if she would not care to attend some affair or another, and Edward and Judith asked her also, but she always refused. She did not feel ready to face what still seemed to her like an ordeal.
One day an invitation arrived from Lucinda Follett, with a note especially addressed to Phoebe inside. The Folletts were sponsoring a musicale, and Lucy urged Phoebe to attend. “I know you will be disinclined to come, my dear, but I promise I will arrive on your doorstep to choose your dress for you if you refuse. You must make a start, and a musicale is easy, for you will hardly have to speak two words of conversation to anyone.”
Phoebe had been sitting alone in the drawing room as she sorted the mail. She sighed and refolded the letter, tapping it against her lips as she thought about how she should answer. Lucy was right—she did need to make a start, and a musicale would be easier than almost any other type of event she could think of. At the theater a prodigious amount of socializing went on during the intermissions and even during the performan
ces. Dinners were taken up entirely with talking, as were card parties, routs, even balls. But if the earl would go to Lucy’s with them, she could sit with Judith and Edward on one side of her, and Lord Devenham on the other, protected from dealing with other people almost entirely.
As if she had conjured him up with her thoughts, she suddenly heard Devenham’s deep voice. “I hope that isn’t bad news.”
“What?” She turned toward the door, so surprised that the letter in her hand slipped from her fingers.
He stood there, handsomely framed by the fluted columns of the doorway. He was dressed immaculately in a coat of rust brown superfine over a blue waistcoat and cream pantaloons that looked so perfect she suspected they were being worn for the first time.
“I beg your pardon. I didn’t intend to startle you. Maddocks informed me that you were here, and apparently you did not hear my knock. Shall I go out and begin again?”
She could not help smiling. She shook her head.
“You appeared to be lost in your thoughts, and those not particularly happy, judging by your frown. I hope your mail did not contain bad news,” he repeated.
“You are welcome to take a seat,” she offered. “I was just getting ready to deliver this mail to Judith. She is upstairs visiting with Nurse and the baby.”
“Ah. So I am welcome to my own company, and you are already running away again.”
“Not exactly.” Then what was she doing? She made herself take a deep breath, and bent to retrieve the fallen note. “Actually, you might be pleased to know that, rather than bad news, this is something you might view as positive,” she said, holding up Lucy’s letter. “We have actually received an invitation to something that I cannot refuse.”
“I am astounded! What enterprising hostess has brought about this change of heart, and what sort of invitation has she offered?” He advanced from the doorway at last, as if satisfied that they would at least share a conversation before she tried to escape. He surveyed the assortment of chairs arranged about the room and selected the most comfortable one to sit on.
“How do you feel about musicales? A woman with whom I used to be quite friendly has invited us all to one two nights hence. Do you know Lady Follett?”
“Follett, Follett . . . is she not the friend with whom you had tea recently? Her name rings a bell, but I can’t match a face to it. Musicale, eh? I’m actually quite fond of music. That is enough to instill in me a natural dread for those kinds of affairs, since the performers are too often amateur friends of the hostess who do their best to murder the music they purport to perform.”
Before the sinking feeling in her breast crystallized into true disappointment, he went on. “I could, however, be persuaded to attend on the basis of enjoying your pleasant company, Lady Brodfield. Perhaps your friend has happened across some true musicians. In that case, her event would be a rare delight I should enjoy sharing.”
“Lady Follett has exquisite taste in most things,” Phoebe hastened to reassure him, amazed at how much lighter her heart felt already at the prospect of his company. “I am certain she would not subject us to a painful evening.” At least, not musically painful, she added to herself.
“I shall look forward to it, then.”
She stood up, clutching the pile of mail she intended to deliver to Judith.
He stood up, too. “I came seeking you because I had something I wished to ask you,” he said with a slight lift of an eyebrow.
Phoebe had quite overlooked the point that he had particularly asked Maddocks where she was. “I’m sorry. You were right that I was preoccupied. It has been a long time since I attended anything even so modest as a musicale. I have shunned company for so long, I do not expect it to be easy. What did you wish to ask me?”
“I wanted to invite you to go with me to the park this afternoon. I have promised to accompany the children and Henrietta, and thought perhaps you would be brave enough to come along. Are you?”
Henrietta was the unlikely name the children had given the new puppy. Friendly and affectionate to a fault, she had attached herself devotedly to everyone in the household, including the earl.
Devenham himself had won the affections of not only the pup but the children and even Judith, who had held her judgment of him in reserve. Phoebe wondered how all of them would deal with it when the time came for him to leave. She did not dare to contemplate her own feelings.
She had not returned to the park since the day she had gone with the children and been spied upon by Richard Brodfield’s agent. She had explained the mystery to the children, to make sure they would not be afraid to go there, but had declined to go with them on all subsequent expeditions. She did not feel very brave at the moment. There stood Lord Devenham, however, watching her expectantly, having all but dared her.
She looked down, fidgeting with the mail distractedly. “I suppose you think me a great coward, hiding away here in this house, refusing to go out.” She had not realized until this moment how much she wished him not to think that.
She also did not realize that he had moved closer to her until she suddenly felt the tips of his fingers touching her chin, raising her head to make her gaze meet his.
“I believe I ought to answer yes, so you would feel challenged to prove me wrong,” he said softly, his fingers lingering. The blue of his eyes seemed to blaze with intensity. “However, I will be honest with you, Lady Brodfield. I myself have been judged and misjudged so many times by so many people, I try not to indulge in the habit.”
He snatched his fingers away abruptly. “I will only say that a good general recognizes the strategic value of both the advance and the retreat, and has the wisdom to know when each is appropriate.”
Phoebe could not seem to pull her eyes away from his. Was he telling her now was the time to advance? Certainly Lucy was. “All right,” she conceded, “I will go with you and the children to the park.” After all, it was not the same as if she were going there with him alone.
***
“I’m putting a visit to Tattersall’s at the top of my list for next week,” Devenham groaned as the Allingtons’ overfilled landau made its way toward Hyde Park that afternoon. “I’ll not go another week without at least a curricle and pair of my own in this city.”
Henrietta was in the earl’s lap, shedding white and brown dog hair all over his impeccable new ensemble. Phoebe had William in her lap, for although he was heavier than the pup, he had made it clear that familiarity won out over his fondness for his new friend, the earl. Dorrie sat beside her aunt without complaint, and facing them sat Lizzie with Thomas and David.
“I wish I could go with you,” David said enviously. “When I am old enough, I’m going to be a regular there.”
“It surprises me that you have no Town residence and keep no stable here of your own, Lord Devenham,” Phoebe observed. “I would have thought it almost a requirement for a man of your station.”
“My Town residence is leased out, Lady Brodfield, since I had no expectations of spending time in London. I am at heart still a military man, with simple tastes. For that matter, I never had any expectations of becoming Earl of Devenham. It always seemed much more likely that I would die than my brother. I was the one who went overseas to face Napoleon’s armies. Who would have guessed that my fool brother would break his neck in a hunting accident? Consequently, I have not the accouterments one might expect.”
He paused, and Phoebe did not know what to say. She thought she detected traces of both bitterness and regret in his voice.
“I suppose my campaigning days are over now,” he continued. “I have had to give some thought to what my life should be from now on. I must say I have had ample time in which to reflect upon it.” He did not expand upon his topic, however, for the carriage had reached the park, and John Coachman desired instructions as to how they wished to proceed.
> “We have come to give Henrietta a bit of exercise,” Devenham said, scratching the pup’s ears affectionately. “Not to mention the children,” he added with a teasing look at them. “I believe we will get out and walk a bit. You might as well take the horses for a turn or two around the park, and we’ll keep a lookout for you when we are ready to go back.”
The servant nodded and climbed down from his perch to hold the horses while the little party descended. The earl handed Henrietta to David and got down first to assist the rest of them. “Keep a tight hold on her leash,” he cautioned the children. “All this space and fresh air is likely to go to her head.”
As he handed Phoebe down, he allowed his hand to linger and bent his head close to her. “I must keep a close watch to make sure that it does not do the same to you.”
Caught off guard, she pulled away to look at him. She saw the familiar wicked twinkle in his eye. Oh, dear, she thought. I did not expect things to go in this direction.
As it happened, however, the children had already raced off ahead with the dog, with Lizzie trailing in their wake, doing her best to keep them in sight. Devenham tucked Phoebe’s hand under his elbow and began to walk slowly in the same direction. His limp was much less pronounced now than it had been, and his use of the cane could at first glance have been attributed to mere fashion. Phoebe thought he walked a good deal more slowly than was necessary.
To mask her discomfort, she laughed a little and nodded her head toward the spectacle of the children running about in the grass with the puppy. “I am always of two minds when I see Dorrie go running off with the boys in such a fashion. She is really at an age when she should be practicing more decorous behavior. In just a few short years she will be old enough to make her come-out. Then I think of how short those years will be until the time she must put such behavior forever behind her, and I feel more inclined to let her run.”
“You sound regretful,” Devenham said. He seemed to be aiming for a bench in the meager shade offered by an ancient pollarded oak. “How old were you when you made your come-out?”
Persistent Earl : Signet Regency Romance (9781101578841) Page 11
