Winter was not quite finished with them but a few plants peeked green, and the bitter cold had fled.
Phoebe breathed deep. “No. I will leave that to Lady Jane, but I would like to do some good.”
“Then do so. I support whatever you wish to do. Look how wonderfully you have made Rosefield run.”
“So well, I have left myself with nothing to do,” she complained, but she loved the efficiency of the staff.
With the sun behind him, he shone like a Greek god. “Think it over and find what you are passionate about, Phoebe. If you want to talk it through with me, I would be happy to help or give input.”
“You would not be ashamed of a wife with a career of some kind?” Her heart raced so fast she had trouble catching her breath.
“I think it’s too cold for Elizabeth out here. Let’s go back inside.”
Miss Cavot met them at the garden door and took Elizabeth to the nursery.
Holding hands, they walked through the house to the office where Markus closed the door and led her to the settee. “Phoebe, my love, I married a woman with an occupation. It was stupid of me to think you could be happy doing what other wives do. Find what makes you happy and we will make it happen.”
“I was thinking about your friends in Scotland.” The Duke and Duchess of Kerburgh had adopted several children and also had some of their own. It was madness at the castle, but they were all so happy.
Markus’s face turned white. “Please do not tell me you want to adopt a slew of children. I might be amenable to one, if you found a child you fell in love with….”
He really was the best man in the world. “I think it might be nice to find homes for orphaned children. There are so many. Just here in Benton, the vicarage is housing four who lost their parents to a carriage accident.”
“Yes, the Wills children. I looked for relatives to take them in but the vicar and I both failed.”
“Can we start a small orphanage and see how well we do finding good homes for them? The vicar and his wife are old and cannot care for four rambunctious children indefinitely. I would not want the children to end up in the type of place where children are abused or sold off as farm hands. I have heard some terrible stories.” She held her breath.
“There’s a small house at the edge of the property. It’s quite close to George Harper’s land. Mrs. Harper might be able to help you along. She’s a fine cook. I can have someone out to see what needs repairing.” He got up, went to his desk and made a note.
“Really?” If a person could die from happiness, Phoebe was about to meet her maker. The notion of a noblewoman working was so outrageous she was certain Markus would laugh at her and dismiss her idea.
Not once, in her daydreams about the project, had he offered to help.
“Of course, Phoebe. I am not some monster who wants to lock you up in the tower. I fell in love with all of you and that includes the part that takes control and fixes what is wrong. My only condition is that you let me help you with this orphanage and adoption agency. I wish I had thought to do it long ago.”
She launched herself into his arms. “I love you, Markus. You are the strongest man I know. Together we are going to make families happy.”
He claimed her lips in a kiss that shook her world, making love to her mouth until she moaned and wrapped her legs around his hips. It was the middle of the day and someone could walk in at any moment, not to mention she was in a ball gown for the portrait sitting. She didn’t care. “I love you, Markus. Forgive me for ever doubting you.”
“Keep kissing me like that, and I will forgive you any transgression.” Gripping her bottom, he kissed her nose and placed her on the edge of the desk. Tugging at her skirts, he asked, “Now, is there any way of getting through all of this material and making love to my wife?”
Vibrating with happiness and desire she ran her hand down his chest. “Go and lock that door and I will show you the fastest route.”
He pressed forward until his shaft nudged her through the material.
Gasping, she arched into him, then cried a protest when he stepped away.
Markus slid the bolt, turned, and smiled with mischief gleaming in his green eyes. “It might be more fun to take the slow way around.”
Phoebe liked the sound of that. She propped her slippered foot on the desk and lifted her skirt until the top of her stocking was shockingly visible. “I do not mind a slow stroll, my lord.”
In an instant, his hips were between her legs and his mouth on her throat. “My viscountess, my love, my Phoebe.”
She arched her neck so he could access more of her. This was the man of her dreams and the man she never dreamed she could obtain. Nothing, not even death, would change that. “Yes. All yours.”
Be sure not to miss the final book in A.S. Fenichel’s Forever Bride series
DESPERATE BRIDE
An unexpected promise . . . an everlasting passion.
An accomplished musician, Dorothea Flammel has refused more proposals than any London debutante; her only true love is her music. Dory’s shimmering talent and beauty have long been adored from afar by Thomas Wheel, an untitled gentleman who can only dream of asking for the hand of a nobleman’s daughter. But when her father, the insolvent Lord Flammel, arranges for Dory to marry a lecherous Earl in order to pay off a debt, she runs to Thomas—and proposes marriage to him.
Eloping to Scotland saves Dory from a disastrous fate, but what is for her a mere marriage of convenience proves more passionate—and more complex—than either imagined as rumors, scandal, and buried emotions come to light. And when a vengeful challenge from a drunken and embittered Lord Flammel puts Thomas’s life on the line, will the fragile trust between husband and wife be enough to save them both?
A Lyrical Originals novel on sale September 2017!
Learn more about AS Fenichel at
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com/author.aspx/31620
Chapter 1
More than an hour reading the Westgrove Estate titles and entailments left Thomas Wheel with an aching neck. If he acquired the property, those two fields neighboring his family estate’s two would be perfect for the Dutch four-crop rotation method. Increased productivity could mean putting the local children in a schoolroom rather than laboring for pennies to help feed their families. The little barn on the property could be converted into a schoolhouse.
Crowly cleared his throat. The butler was tall and wide and occupied the entire doorway. “Yes, what is it, Crowly?”
“Sir, I know you said you didn’t wish to be disturbed, but you have a visitor.” Many visitors found the unseemly size of the man intimidating. Crowly was quiet and efficient and that was good enough for a bachelor of Thomas’s standing.
Thomas pulled the watch from his pocket. Nearly midnight, no decent person called so late. “At this late hour? Send whoever it is away. It is too late for callers.”
The butler shuffled his feet but did not leave.
“Is there a problem, Crowly?”
“Well, sir, you see, the visitor is a young woman of apparent good breeding. She arrived in a hack and I am reluctant to put her back out on the street.”
Thomas stood. “She is alone?”
“It would seem so, sir.”
“Who is it?”
“The lady refused to provide a card and wishes to speak to you rather urgently.”
After pulling his jacket from the back of his chair, he dressed himself. “I suppose you had better let the mystery lady in.”
“Yes. Thank you, sir.” Crowly’s shoulders relaxed.
Within seconds, a woman draped in a black cape with a hood hiding her face entered the study.
Thomas stood behind his desk and waited for her to speak, but she fussed with the edge of her cape and shifted her feet. He suspected that she was contemplating running away. “How may I help y
ou?”
Her head snapped up and her hood fell away. There, standing in his study, was Lady Dorothea Flammel. The amber in her blond hair came to life in the firelight and Thomas had to grip the back of his chair for balance. He did not know what he had been expecting, but in his wildest dreams he never thought to see Dory in his home. Well, maybe in his dreams, but never in reality.
Compared to the burly Crowly she looked lost in the doorway. She was petite and her green eyes ringed red as if she’d been crying.
His initial excitement overshadowed by her distress, his concern mounted. He crossed the room, stopping only when he realized that she backed away from him. “Lady Flammel, what is wrong? Is it Markus?”
Markus Flammel, Dory’s older brother and one of Thomas’s closest friends, lost his wife during childbirth a year before. The child had lived, but losing Emma had sent Markus into a desperate depression.
“No. It’s not Markus. He is in the country as far as I know.” She stared at her feet.
Thomas waited for her to say more, but she pressed her lips together while avoiding his gaze.
“Perhaps you would like to sit,” he suggested.
When she looked up, he thought she might run, but then her expression softened and she nodded.
When he offered her the chair in front of his desk, she skirted away from him to reach the seat. Never had he seen her so out of sorts. He rounded the desk and sat in his office chair.
The silence in the room was palpable. Thomas cleared his throat and the sudden noise made her jump in her seat. Dory had always appeared so calm and in control, his interest piqued. “Lady Flammel?”
“Yes?” Snapping her head up, she revealed her wide eyes and pale skin.
He smiled. Most women found his smile engaging, but she looked at him with wide eyes and trembling lips, like he’d bared his teeth for the kill.
He leaned forward, resting his arms on the desk. “I can only assume that you have come to me for some reason. You risk quite a lot coming to a bachelor’s home, in the middle of the night, in a hack and all alone. You must permit me my curiosity at such an unorthodox act. I have known you most of your life and this is the first time you have arrived on my doorstep. What can I do for you?”
She sighed. “Perhaps it was a mistake.”
“Was it?” He asked.
She stared at him. He had watched her play the pianoforte dozens of times over the past few years. She was an artist of the highest order. Her emotion when she played was enthralling, but away from her instrument she always appeared so calm and controlled. Here in his study that seemed to have escaped her. She was near tears. He wanted to stand up and go to her but he did not wish to scare her. The last thing he wanted was to allow his height to intimidate her.
“I am in trouble,” she said.
Anger seared through Thomas. “Who was it? I will cut out his innards.” He pounded his fist on the desk.
She flinched then waved her hand in a dismissive motion. “Not that kind of trouble, Mr. Wheel.”
His fury seeped away. Watching her from the shadows for years, her music had drawn him in but those full eyelashes and deep green eyes kept him mesmerized. For a long time, he had yearned to touch the soft skin of her cheek and kiss those delicate ears. It was impossible. She was the daughter of an earl. She would marry a man of her own station, not Mr. Wheel of Middlesex.
“Perhaps you should just tell me why you are here since you have made the trip. I will help you in any way I am able. I assure you that your presence here will remain our secret. My staff is very discreet.”
She frowned. “I suppose as you are a bachelor, they would have to be.” There was a bitter twist in her voice.
He did not comment, though her distaste rang through her statement and the twist of her lips.
She took a deep breath, making her full bosom rise.
Distracted for a moment, he then steeled himself and watched her eyes, which he found almost as intriguing.
She cleared her throat. “I am in need of a husband and I have decided that, if you would not mind, you and I would suit nicely.”
It took a full count for her meaning to penetrate his mind. “Perhaps earlier you didn’t understand my anger.” Anger rose again in his gut. He didn’t want to frighten her. “It would seem that I must be blunt. Are you with child?”
She picked up her chin. “I understood you, Mr. Wheel. I am not with child nor have I been ruined. It is only that I need to marry immediately.”
He sat back in his chair and scratched his chin where the late hour had left him with a shadow of a beard. No one intrigued him as Dorothea Flammel did, but she was the unattainable. Now, here she was in his home offering herself to him. Saying yes and rushing off to Gretna Green rumbled through his mind, but doubt reared its head and he asked, “Why?”
Those beautiful eyes drew together. “I suppose you have a right to know.” Staring at her shoes, her hair fell in loose curls around her neck and shoulders. She shook her head. Some inner turmoil etched on her face. “My parents will sign a betrothal agreement for me in the next week.”
His stomach clenched. “To whom, if I may ask?”
“Lord Casper,” she said through clenched teeth.
Thomas jumped from his chair. “Henry Casper is old enough to be your grandfather. What are your parents thinking?”
She flinched but did not cower. “That I will be a countess.”
“There are other earls in the realm.”
“I am afraid that I have refused quite a few offers of marriage.”
It was almost legend the amount of offers that Lady Dorothea Flammel had turned down. A duke had even offered for her and reports indicated she had broken his heart. “There must be someone left other than a man who walks with a cane and can no longer hear a word spoken.”
She stood and pulled her cloak back over her head. “I completely understand. You do not wish to marry or the idea of marrying me is repellent. Forgive me for taking up your time, Mr. Wheel.”
She headed for the door.
He rushed over and took her arm turning her around to face him. “I am honored by your offer, Lady Dorothea, and wish I could help you, but I am only Mr. Wheel. I have no right to marry so far from my station.”
Her face reddened. “I did not realize you were such a bigot, Mr. Wheel.”
“Thomas.”
“I beg your pardon.”
“My name is Thomas.”
His face was close to hers. Her warm sweet scent filled his head with nonsense, a mixture of flowers and herbs.
“I…” she stuttered. “Forgive me for the late intrusion. I am sorry.”
He did not release her. “Tell me one more thing, Lady Dorothea?”
“Dory, my name is Dory,” she said in a smoky voice, while looking up at him.
It took every ounce of his control to keep him from sweeping her up in his arms and taking her to his bed. To hell with society and rules. “Why me?”
“I beg your pardon.”
He leaned in closer. “I am curious why you chose me for this honor. You could have gone to any number of men who would jump at the chance to have you. I would like to know what made you come here.”
She pulled away from him. “You seemed the safest choice.”
He laughed so hard that she flinched as the noise of it filled the room.
“I do not mean to insult you.”
“I am not insulted, Dory, just surprised that you would see me as a safe choice.” He continued to laugh.
She was not laughing. Her eyes were again filling with tears.
The sight sobered him. “I am sorry to laugh but I see nothing safe about me being alone with you, my dear.”
She dashed the tears away. “I only meant that you would not intentionally hurt me. You have a reputation for being kind to wom
en and you like my music. I knew you would never stop me from playing or composing.”
His gut twisted. “Why would you have to stop?”
“Mother has long told me that once I am married, my music must be put aside. I have resisted marriage for the last five seasons so I can continue to play.”
“Dory, I will give you two insights into men of which you may not be aware. First is that we are not all tyrants and the second is that not all men are like your father.”
Sorrow coursed through her eyes like the waves in the sea. “He lives to find ways to embarrass my mother in public. I will grant you she is no treat to be around, but I think she loved him once a long time ago. He is cruel beyond reason.”
“Not all men are like that.”
She shrugged. “I know. I do not think you are like that. For example, when you take a mistress you will be discrete. You would never cause me undue pain. That is why you would suit so well.”
He crossed the room to where she stood with her arms wrapped around her middle. His hand moved of its own accord and reached out and touched the skin where her shoulder met her neck. It was like silk under his fingers. “What makes you think I would take a mistress?”
“All men do eventually. At least you would be kind about it.” She pulled away from his touch.
“I must repeat myself, Dory. All men are not like your father.”
She shrugged and waved off his comment. “Will you help me?”
How he wished he could. “What is your plan?”
Turning, she faced him. “I would like to leave for Gretna Green in the next day or two. It is best to not tell anyone. I have not even let on to Sophia and Elinor about my plans.”
Sophia and Elinor had married two of his closest friends and were Dory’s longtime confidants. It was incredible that she would not share something so monumental with her best friends.
“I know I can trust them, but I thought it best not to put them in an awkward position. It’s not fair.”
He sat on the chair near the fire. Too big for the delicate seat, he’d always hated it as it suited a lady better. He curled his long legs under, leaned his elbow on one knee and his chin on his fist. “Once we married how would we get along in this plan of yours?”
A Lady's Honor Page 28
