Once back on Regent Street, Atwater went up to the library and poured himself a sherry. He sat and smoothed his hair back, gathering his wits. He hoped that Carlisle would take his warning to heart. There would really be no reason for him not to.
Despite being rude and crass, he was very rich and had jumped from Earl to Duke. Despite his brown teeth and corpulent belly, he would be considered a good catch by many ladies interested only in bettering their placement in society.
There was a soft knock at the library door. Atwater suddenly wondered where Tom was, and called, “Yes?”
The door opened, and Phoebe entered. Atwater’s breath stopped for a moment when he saw her. She was dressed in a simple white muslin frock. Her blonde curls were caught up in a becoming chignon. The shadow had gone from under her eyes, and she smiled as she came in.
She curtsied low. “Your Grace.”
He was up in a minute and in front of her. “Phoebe,” he whispered.
“Will Duke Carlisle go back to Scotland?”
“Yes, he will.” Atwater couldn’t keep his eyes from her. Here in the waning sun of the evening, she appeared as an angel. He remembered he’d thought that the first night he’d laid eyes on her.
She smiled at him. “I thank you, Your Grace. From the bottom of my heart. You’ve rescued me more than once from certain calamity, Your Grace. I feel I owe you a debt.”
“And how would you repay the debt, if indeed you were indebted to me?”
“I suppose I should do something that would please Your Grace.”
“Like becoming my wife?”
“Excuse me, Your Grace.”
He took both her hands in his. “Would you be my wife? Marry me, Phoebe.”
“But, I don’t understand. What about Lady Judith?”
“Surely you don’t believe everything you hear, do you Lady Phoebe? Lady Judith is dead to me. She is nothing like the woman I once loved. In fact, I don’t believe her to be the woman I once loved.”
“What do you mean? Have you been to St James? Have you spoken to her?”
“Not yet. But I intend to get to the bottom of whatever happened to my cousin. I haven’t spoken to Judith, or whoever she is, but the idea of an imposter solves a few riddles I’ve been wrestling with. It’s an idea that has also confirmed to me that I was about to make the biggest mistake of my life.”
“Go on.” Phoebe was having trouble following what Atwater was saying. What was he saying about an imposter?
I was about to propose marriage to Lady Judith out of fear and pity. I didn’t want to, but I was so tired of the gossip. I hadn’t heard from her in two years. Not one letter. I’d made up my mind to move on, and then the rumour started. I was told Judith had come back to London. The rumour of me reneging on my marriage proposal took over the minds of so many. But the real truth is Judith denied me before she left. If she had come back, she would have refused me again. I know that now.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I hadn’t heard from her for over two years. She stopped writing to me long before the interloper came around.”
“Oh.”
“And because, I’ve suspected something was not quite right when it came to Judith. All of the dramatic gestures. I daresay she’s not being invited to any social gatherings that are intimate. I don’t generally see her out and about ... anywhere. Until I saw you with her in Cavendish. It reminded me of the first time I saw you on the bridge.”
“That was the first day I arrived back from Paris. I remember seeing you.”
“Phoebe, I was enchanted by you.”
“But then you asked Judith to marry you.”
“I did not.”
“Do you know what we were doing the other day? When you saw us? We were shopping for Judith’s trousseau. Why would she do that if you hadn’t asked for her hand? Are you to renege on your promise again, Your Grace?”
“My only guess is Judith felt so sure of herself that she went ahead with her own plans before I’d said anything. And I will be honest. I was set to do it. Everyone, even Tom, wanted me to marry and get it over with. The important thing, they all said, is an heir. An heir. All the ton care about are money and possessions. Fine homes, the very best clothing and shoes. Gardens they hardly enjoy. Gossip is the prized possession. Whoever owns the juiciest story gains the ever coveted popularity within their private club. They make me sick. All of them. They spend their lives gathering as many material items as possible. Then they spend the rest of their lives looking for one family member to leave it to. One male family member, as My Lady knows all too well.”
“But what if Judith is honest? What if the story is false?”
“Do you think, at this point, Phoebe, that I care? I only know that I want you in my life. As more than a friend to flirt with at the random ball or tea. I want to marry you, Phoebe. Will you? Will you be my wife?”
She looked down, and then lifted her eyes to him. “You may not care if the story given by Mary’s friend is false. But I, Your Grace, do. Why do you ask for my hand now? Now that you believe Judith is not who you believed her to be.”
“Because I’ve come to my senses, Phoebe. I know now that my Judith would have denied me when she came back. She spent two years denying me when she didn’t write to me. That is why I believe Olivia’s story.”
“Do you really believe it? Your Grace, do not play with my emotions.”
“It’s what I said. I do not tell falsehoods. With all you’ve heard about my poor character, you must know that I do not fabricate stories. Gossip has never been an interest of mine.”
“Nor mine. The ton tries, and often succeeds, in pulling one in, though. And even when one doesn’t indulge, one still hears things.”
Atwater dropped to his knee and took Phoebe’s tiny white hand in his own two. “I’m asking you, Phoebe. Will you be my wife?”
She was biting her lip, scrutinizing him. He knew she was trying to make sense of everything. He was too. His wish was that they do it together.
“I … I want to hear Olivia’s story, Your Grace.”
It was a cut; however, he understood. And he was glad she didn’t accept him purely to get away from Carlisle. But as he thought more, he realized that Carlisle was not a major player. The Duke had been happy to secure the sale of the London townhouse and the country estate. His idea to kidnap Phoebe and take her away to Scotland, as his wife, was ludicrous at best.
He raised himself up to his feet. He supposed he should have thought about this type of instance. Of course the lady would want to be sure of his affections. His truthfulness. And he knew he didn’t want to lose her so was prepared to do whatever it took, now that he’d made his decision. He realized he’d fallen for Phoebe the first time he’d laid eyes on her.
“Let us speak with Olivia then, My Lady.”
Chapter 9
In her bedchamber on St James, Lady Judith heard the commotion of a carriage arriving. After a moment, her maid brought her a note. Judith opened it. As she read, her face paled, as one who is ill.
“My Lady, are you well. Is something wrong?”
“No. Duke Atwater and a small party have arrived. Have they been shown in?”
“Yes, My Lady. They are in the drawing room.”
“Very well. Please tell them I will require an hour. Take refreshment to them. I must do my toilette in private. I will meet with them afterwards. Please let them know.”
“Yes, My Lady.” The girl bounced out of the room and down the back stairs.
Judith, in the meantime, opened the clothes press. She was in her chemise and stays. She needed something simple for this circumstance. Something that wouldn’t draw unwanted attention. Reluctantly, she chose the black bombazine mourning dress she’d only recently stopped wearing.
She’d been desperate to get back to wearing her beautiful frocks. But the next part of her plan required leaving them behind. Dressed in mourning was the best way to camouflage herself. With all the typhu
s in London, many women were attired in the deep colour that announced death. Black was the only way for Judith to blend in on the street.
She bundled her lavender speckled white muslin into a valise along with a couple of chemises, some stockings, a light shawl, a pair of gloves and a fan. It was a haphazard array of articles, and Judith was angry with herself for not having considered the need to flee swiftly. But then again, why should she have? No one knew of her secret. Not even her clandestine lover, Jacob. He was a banker and, at best, only a pawn to further her plans.
Still, the presence of the four individuals in the drawing room alerted Judith to the fact that each of them knew something. Something that required them to arrive together to see her.
She picked through her jewel boxes deciding what to take and what to leave. She packed all the jewellery she could fit into her reticule. When that was filled, she stuffed the gems into the bodice of her chemise. Some gold coins were deposited into her shoes.
She needed to get word to the bank that her escape was to be put into action immediately. She called to her maid.
“Emma, take this note and give it to the little stable boy.”
“You mean Paddy, My Lady?”
“Y-yes. Fine. Paddy.” She smiled a smile that resembled more a sneer.
“My Lady, are you well? Do you need anything?”
“I need you to give this note to Paddy. Tell him to take it to Fleet Street and find Mr Carter in the bank. Mr Jacob Carter. Tell him to hand it directly to Mr Carter. Do you understand? He’s not to give the note to anyone else.”
The girl nodded, her eyes not moving from her mistress.”
“That’s a good girl. You may have a treat for your trouble. You may have the rest of the day off.”
“Oh, My Lady! That’s too generous.” The girl now smiled from ear to ear.
“Thank you, My Lady.”
“Yes, yes. Now run along.”
“Yes, My Lady. Thank you.”
The girl left the room. Judith sat at her vanity. She placed her fingers on her temporals while perusing her reflection. She made gentle circles on her skin, willing her head to cease its throbbing. She breathed in deeply and slowly, and then let the air escape her lungs just as slowly.
She rose and pulled the black frock over her head. She reached over to the left, fumbling with the buttons and cursing the fact she’d already let the maid leave the house. But, it was just as well. Judith needed to get rid of the girl, so she herself, could escape. She feared the reason the group in the drawing room wanted to see her. The only reason she could come up with. They knew. Something.
She snatched her watch from the vanity top. Ten minutes had been wasted. She pinned her hair up and donned the black bonnet, sans ostrich plume, and pulled the thick crepe veil over her face. She tiptoed out of the room and down the servants’ stairs. It was dinner time. The staff was in the servants’ hall partaking of their sustenance. No one noticed the silent woman in black walk out the back door to the mews.
Dan, Atwater’s driver, was reading the newspaper. He sat in the landau with one side’s top up shielding him from the meagre sunshine.
Judith hugged the wall of the mews in order not to engage his attention. She slipped around the side of the house two doors down and emerged onto the street. With a sigh of relief, she hailed a hackney. She couldn’t very well ask her own driver to take her to the bank. She was escaping.
As the hackney swayed away from St James, Judith’s mind went over her plan again and again. Where had it gone wrong? It had been nearly foolproof. Even Atwater had believed her. But she knew there was no way Atwater and Lady Phoebe, along with their friends, would have arrived, unannounced ... unless they’d found something out. She only had to make it to the bank. Then she and Jacob would leave London forever. Or at least for a while.
*******
Atwater looked at his watch.
“I daresay it’s been more than an hour, hasn’t it?” Tom looked to his friend.
“Yes. It has. It’s been an hour and a half. But you know, pardon me ladies, you know how long the toilette sometimes takes. If the lady was out late, she doubtless needs more time.”
“But where would she have gone? There were no parties last night. Not to my knowledge.”
“Maybe she has company.”
“Robert,” Tom admonished him.
“My apologies, ladies.
“Let us play some whist. Look, here are cards. We have four people. Why, I wish I’d thought of it sooner.” Phoebe laughed.
The four sat at the card table and began the game. After about another hour, Atwater began to feel something was wrong. The others were involved in the game. But something was not right. He looked up at the ceiling. He’d heard no sound coming from upstairs. No movement. No creaking floorboards. Nothing. It was as if no one was in the house. He excused himself from the game. “Mary, you as my partner, take my next few turns.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Tom looked at him with raised eyebrows. Atwater pointed to the ceiling and left the room. Tom went back to the game. The ladies, being very involved in it, had lost track of the time.
Atwater walked down the hall. He heard the area door open and went down to see who it was.
The maid was entering, and startled, she gasped when she saw Atwater. “Yes, Your Grace? Are you in need of anything?”
“Where have you been, girl?”
“I … I had to run an errand for my lady, Your Grace.”
“And where is your lady? We’ve been waiting some two hours for her to finish with her toilette.”
“She’s not down yet, Your Grace?”
“She is not. We are all aware of that.”
“Yes, Your Grace. I’ll go up, Your Grace. She sometimes falls back to sleep.”
“Thank you.” Atwater smiled at the girl. He wondered if Judith’s tendency to fall back to sleep had anything to do with the laudanum she took with frequency. For her nerves, she’d told him. If the story Olivia had given them was true, Judith’s nerves must truly need it.
Atwater headed back up to the drawing room. “The maid is alerting Lady Judith that it’s been over two hours we’ve been waiting.”
“It’s been that long? When there are cards, I lose track of time. I love them so,” Phoebe said with glee.
Just then, the drawing room flew open. The maid stood there, looking as if she’d seen a ghost. She curtsied, and then blurted out, “She’s gone. Your Grace. My lady is gone.”
Tom piped up. “That should confirm Olivia’s story.”
“Olivia? Beg pardon, My Lord. What has this to do with Olivia, My Lord?” The maid, not knowing what else to do, curtsied again.
“Never you mind. We’re going to find Lady Judith. Please wait here, in the servants’ hall,” Tom said.
“Yes, My Lord.” The girl curtsied and nodded to Phoebe and Mary. She sank lower when her eyes landed on Atwater. “Your Grace.” Then she left the room.
The four remaining came together in the centre of the room. Keeping their voices low, they discussed the next step to take.
Falling for the Heartbroken Duke: A Historical Regency Romance Book Page 14
