by Bess McBride
He didn’t answer at first, and she looked up at him. They approached the front door after the others had entered, and he paused to look down at her.
“You wish to take time to think about your response? Is that correct?”
“Oh, shoot, I don’t know, Reggie!” Phoebe exclaimed. “I’m probably going to start spouting something like ‘this is all so sudden,’ but that’s kind of how I feel. I hope you understand.”
“I do,” Reggie said quietly. “I shall say no more on the subject.”
“Not even about love?” Phoebe knew she was being unreasonable. She wanted his love, but she also wanted to make sure he didn’t have a mad wife in the attic, or a tendency to lie in a pathological way, or even a gambling problem.
“Love and marriage go hand in hand, Miss Warner. I will let you have your time, if you decide to stay.”
“Don’t you ‘Miss Warner’ me, Reggie Hamilton! I love you. Nothing is going to change that. I just don’t know you well enough to marry you, and you don’t know me well enough to ask me!”
Lord and Lady Hamilton emerged from the house, and Reggie stepped away from Phoebe to say goodbye to his father. Having rapidly grown used to tucking her arm in his, she felt her hands dangling uselessly at her sides, empty, and her throat began to ache. She curtsied awkwardly, mumbled goodbye and ran inside the house.
Chapter Twelve
Reggie bid his father and stepmother farewell and turned to see Phoebe disappear inside the house. Rather than follow her in, he turned and walked toward a small grove of trees on the right side of the house.
Phoebe was not incorrect. The brief span of their acquaintanceship dictated that they could not possibly know each other well. Yet, he felt he knew her as he knew himself. Perhaps he was not yet familiar with the vagaries of her temperament or her particularities, but he recognized a kinship with her, an affinity, as if their fates were meant to be intertwined. His attraction to her had been instant and comprehensive—from the delightful upturn of her lovely face to her maternal instincts, though he had resented feeling like a helpless small boy at times. He loved her dearly, and he wondered now that he could ever have thought his youthful attraction for Matilda Crockwell Sinclair to be anything other than an infatuation.
He stared at the ground unseeingly as he strolled in the grove with his hands clasped behind his back. Phoebe had not refused his offer out of hand for which he was manifestly grateful. She simply needed more time to know him—a period of courtship, not at all unusual. But how to court a woman who might or might not disappear at any moment—into the future? How long could he depend upon the generosity of the Sinclairs to house her? And how long could he himself “visit” William when his own house lay not a half mile across the fields—without raising even more undue suspicion or unwelcome speculation from his father and stepmother? Or the neighbors.
It was not possible to avoid contact with the local gentry, nor was it advisable to try to do so. Such social isolation would be cruel to Phoebe. She should experience gaiety in the form of dinners and dances. Was he to lock her away in a stone tower, never to be heard from again? Reggie chuckled at such an image. He could not imagine her going quietly into such an arrangement.
The image, however ludicrous, served to remind Reggie that he needed to set about procuring a house for himself. His father promised to outlive them all, and if Phoebe consented to marry him in the future, he would need to have his own home.
Reggie returned to the house and sought out William. John directed him to the library where he found William at his desk.
“William, I wondered if you knew of any land agents or solicitors who might seek out a house for me.”
“A house?” William said as he leaned back and surveyed Reggie with a lift of one brow. “Did you make Miss Warner an offer?”
Reggie sighed and dropped into a chair. William rose to pour him a brandy.
“Here, I think you must need this.”
“Thank you. Well, I was at the point of uttering the words when you, Mattie and Mia, as well as my father and stepmother arrived, and I was not able to finish. Phoebe preempted any further efforts on my part by informing me that she does not know me well enough to marry me...yet.”
“Yet,” William repeated. “That is certainly encouraging.”
Reggie nodded. “I believe that we share the same affection for each other, but she wishes to proceed more slowly.”
“But that is the point of an engagement, I should think. To become better acquainted before marriage.”
Reggie nodded. “I thought so as well, but I have no experience with this. As you well know, my education regarding women has been sadly lacking in the absence of a mother. I believe my father found my naiveté amusing, along with that of my brother, and the source of much entertainment.”
William chuckled. “Yes, I think he must have. But you have matured now, even more so than when I saw you only last month. I suspect it is due in large part to your encounter with Phoebe and your experiences in the future. Women can either make men or boys of us, and it would seem that Phoebe has made you the former.”
Reggie laughed and sipped his drink. “When she is not playing the mother to me, that is. She has a strong maternal instinct and devoted herself to protecting me while I was in the twenty-first century.”
“Is there much danger there?” William asked.
“Not that I saw, but the pace seems very fast, especially in New York City. Phoebe worried that I might injure myself more than be injured by another. She fretted about cars, traffic—”
“Cars? Describe these to me. Mattie has attempted to tell me of the future, but she is hindered by the fact that she never lived in the nineteenth century. Or I am too obtuse,” William smiled. “Tell me about your journey.”
For the next hour, they discussed Reggie’s experiences.
“Yes, I understand more clearly now. Fascinating! As you know, I once thought I would have to travel to the future to remain with Mattie, but the difficulties inherent in leaving the estate gave me pause.”
“Had she not come back, would you have gone forward, William?”
William nodded. “Yes, had it been within my power, that is, had Mattie and I wished at the same time—though hundreds of years apart—for the same thing, then I would have followed her to the future. I love her,” he said simply.
Reggie nodded. “I understand the sentiment. Though my love for Phoebe is in its infancy, I cannot imagine a future without her.”
“Is she willing to stay here or must you go forward?”
Reggie shook his head. “I do not know. However, I think I must have my own lodgings. You were going to direct me to your man of business? I think I shall seek out an agent in the village as well.”
“Yes, yes. Here is his address.” William dashed off an address on a card, handing it to Reggie as he rose. “Come, let us find the ladies and have some luncheon.”
****
At the end of a delightful repast, Reggie asked Phoebe if she cared to take a walk on the estate grounds to which she agreed, much to his relief.
“I must confess I was concerned you might seek to avoid me after our conversation of this morning,” Reggie said as they strolled the lane on which they had arrived, now bathed in pleasant sunshine.
“Reggie!” Phoebe said. “Of course, I would walk with you. I want to be with you all the time. All the time,” she muttered. “And frankly that worries me. Here, in your time, we can’t hang out together any time we want. We can’t be together whenever we want. It’s a little freer in my time. But that doesn’t mean we should get married right away either.”
“No,” Reggie agreed, trying to follow her tumultuous thoughts. “We have been together much over these past few days, it is true, but it is not the accepted practice, especially not between men and women who are not married. During the course of a normal day, I believe gentlemen attend to matters of business or pursue their interests, and ladies visit or sew or...” Reggie sh
rugged with a wry smile. “Frankly, I do not know what ladies do. I do not remember much about my mother’s daily ritual.”
Phoebe straightened her eyes after rolling them. “Visit and sew. Oh, gosh, that sounds mind numbing. So, are you telling me that if we were to marry—and I can’t believe I’m even saying that after having known you for two and a half whole days now—that I’d never see you during the day? Well, I suppose that would be just like back in the States where we work all day and see each other at night. And then what? Dinner together, right? Weekends together?”
Reggie chewed on a corner of his lower lip. He could see that he was not presenting her possible future to advantage.
“How would you wish to conduct your daily activities, Phoebe?”
“Ideally? If we were married and living in your time? Assuming you worked at home, which I’m sure you actually do. We’d have breakfast together, you could do some work in the morning, then we’d have lunch, take a walk or a ride, have dinner together, read together, sleep together, and then get up and start the day all over again. And maybe travel.” She looked up at him with a grin and a sparkle in her eyes.
“Reggie, you’re blushing! Ohhhh, the sleep together thing. Silly! Everyone sleeps, Reggie.”
“Yes, quite so,” he said as he cleared his throat. “The scenario you described has much togetherness in it. People would comment. The servants would gossip.”
“Tell them not to,” Phoebe smirked. “Make them sign confidentiality agreements.” She chuckled.
“I do not know these agreements,” Reggie said with a shake of his head.
“Never mind,” Phoebe said. “They wouldn’t be binding. So, what do you mean, ‘people would comment?’ Like neighbors? Your father and stepmother?”
Reggie nodded. “I am not concerned for myself, but I must worry about your reputation.”
“How would wanting to be with my husband hurt my reputation?”
“It simply is not done, not to my knowledge.”
Phoebe, who had been smiling, sobered and paused to stare up at him. She pulled her hand from his arm.
“Are you saying we couldn’t spend time together because of what people might think? Even if we’re married? Reggie, tell me you’re not serious!”
“It is the custom, Phoebe.” His lips curved into a grin. “However, I am not averse to spending every minute of the waking day with you as well. I can think of no other activity I should like so much.”
Her brow smoothed and the dark look in her eyes lightened. “But not the nights?” she said coyly.
“And the nights,” Reggie agreed, willing back the warmth which flooded his cheeks.
She slipped her hand in his again and resumed walking.
“Good. I’m thinking about it.”
“Which?” Reggie said with a teasing glint in his eye.
“All of it,” Phoebe laughed. “Why, Reggie!”
“Yes, Madam?”
“I’m surprised at you.”
“May not two play that game, Miss Warner?”
“You know you’re only ‘Miss Warner’ing’ me because you’re embarrassed.”
“You do know me well, Miss Warner.”
“Perhaps,” she grinned. “But I’m still waiting to find out if there’s a wife in the attic.”
Reggie opened his mouth to protest, but the sound of a horse’s hooves caught their attention, and they looked up to see a rider approaching on the lane. Reggie recognized the dark head underneath the top hat as his brother.
“It is Samuel, come to visit as my father said he would! I had forgotten.”
“Oh!” Phoebe straightened her bonnet and peered forward. “What should I do? I’ll just run back to the house and leave you two together.”
Reggie pressed her arm against his side. “Nonsense! You must meet my brother. He is a sensitive sort and might take it amiss if you were to scramble away. I wish to introduce you to him. He is a very amiable fellow.”
“Okay,” Phoebe acquiesced.
They waited as Samuel slowed his horse and dismounted, holding the reins lightly as he bowed to Phoebe.
“Brother,” he said in a quiet voice. “Father reports that you fell from your horse and are back from the brink of death or some such account. You look well enough.”
Reggie laughed and urged Phoebe forward.
“I am well, Samuel. May I present Miss Phoebe Warner of New York City? She is visiting her cousin, Mrs. Sinclair, from America.”
Samuel, a tall young man, similar in color and appearance to himself, bowed. Phoebe curtsied charmingly, but then Reggie thought she did everything with charm.
“Miss Warner. I am pleased to meet you,” Samuel said. “My father spoke of you.”
She looked uncertainly to Reggie.
“Samuel, you would have Miss Warner think she was the subject of much discussion.” Reggie forced a laugh. He hoped that had not occurred.
“Not at all,” Samuel replied. “He merely mentioned Mrs. Sinclair had a heretofore unknown cousin from America staying. Lady Hamilton said little on the matter.”
“Would you care to continue to stroll with us or would you like to return to the house for tea, Samuel?” Reggie asked.
“Do not let me interrupt your walk. I only came to see that you were in good health. Sebastian does well, but I believe he misses you.”
Reggie turned to Phoebe. “It has been my habit to ride every day, Miss Warner. I have been remiss in tending to my horse.”
“It is a mystery to me why you are staying here though, Brother,” Samuel said. “Father expressed his discontent as well. I think he fears you mean to leave the house for good. If not for America, then to William’s house as a permanent guest.”
Reggie threw Phoebe a quick look. This was not the way he had hoped to broach the subject with her.
“Although I have revised my plans to travel to America for the present, I am of a mind to purchase a house of my own, Samuel.”
“What?” Phoebe asked.
“I beg your pardon?” Samuel echoed.
Reggie turned to face them, both of whom had stopped walking to stare at him.
“I wish to procure my own lodgings. Father will be long-lived, Samuel, and I wish to have some autonomy, some privacy, particularly if I should choose to marry.”
Reggie kept his eyes on Samuel’s face, but Samuel’s eyes darted toward Phoebe before returning to Reggie.
Phoebe, in a gesture that brought a twitch to Reggie’s lips, appeared to study the clouds in the sky as if she had never seen clouds before.
“I see,” said Samuel.
“Yes, I thought you might.” Reggie nodded. Samuel knew full well that to bring a wife into the home now presided over by his stepmother would be an unhappy state of affairs. Lady Hamilton liked to have things her way, and Samuel and he had already noted changes in the running of the house that were not to their liking.
“Perhaps I should come with you,” Samuel said.
Reggie had not thought of it before, but noted the idea had some merit.
“Yes, perhaps you should. I have the address of William’s man of business, and I will write to him today to make inquiries. Further, I will look out the land agent in the village as soon as possible and visit with him.”
Reggie tried to ignore Phoebe’s sharp intake of breath, but Samuel did not.
“You do not approve of my brother’s plan, Miss Warner?”
“Me?” she asked with a hand to her neck. “I’m sure it’s not my business.”
“No?” Samuel asked with a small smile.
“I cannot lie to my brother, Miss Warner,” Reggie said. “Although I have not known Miss Warner long, I have asked for her hand in marriage. She has not immediately agreed, and so I am courting her. Therefore, my place of residence is her concern. I hope it is, at any rate.”
Phoebe turned wide eyes to him, and Reggie gave her a wry smile.
“Ah!” Samuel said. “Now, I understand Lady Hamilton’s single o
bservation regarding her meeting Miss Warner. ‘Why cannot Americans stay home?’ she said.”
Reggie laughed, and even Phoebe joined him. Of course, to them, the words signified much more than a simple matter of an American traveling to England.
“Did she now?” Reggie asked.
Samuel nodded. “If you do find a house, I would be pleased to keep you company there until such time as you do marry. Forgive me, Miss Warner, if I speak openly, but our new stepmother is a strong-willed woman, used to having her way, and she has turned our comfortable, if slovenly, home into a pristine museum. She states I must re-shelve my books in the library rather than stack them about my room—as if it is any of her concern.”
Reggie laughed again. “Yes, dear brother, you may most certainly reside with me, and you may stack as many books in your room as you choose.”
“I’m sure Reggie will let you stay there even after he gets married,” Phoebe said, joining in the laughter. “Whenever that is.”
“You have a delightful American accent and manner of speech, Miss Warner, much like Mrs. Sinclair’s. Very informal.”
Phoebe glanced at Reggie from under her eyelashes.
“Thank you, Samuel.”
They had reached the gates at the end of the lane.
“Since we are already here, I shall return home,” he said. “My books await me. It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Warner. I hope to see you again soon.” He turned to his brother. “I am glad to see you well, Brother.”
Reggie clapped a hand on his back. “Thank you. I shall send word to you when I have found a suitable house.”
“Yes, I look forward to it. Until then,” Samuel said. He mounted his horse without assistance and trotted down the lane toward home.
Reggie was not surprised when Phoebe turned to him.
“You’re buying a house? When did you decide that?”
“In all probability, before I ever traveled in time. I would as soon leave Hamilton Place to Lady Hamilton while she lives and find my own dwelling. And I see that Samuel feels the same. I wonder that I did not think of it sooner.”
