In the Widow’s Bed (8 page)

“Good morning, Phoebe, may I come in?”

Phoebe spun to find Lizzy Oliver, not her maid, inching into the room. Her face was pale, her gaze timid as she hovered by the door.
 

Concerned, Phoebe rushed forward. “Of course you may. Good morning.”

“Is it?” Lizzy sagged so Phoebe quickly led her to the window seat and sat down beside her. She seemed exhausted.
 

Phoebe tucked a few stray strands of hair behind Lizzy’s ear. “What troubles you?”
 

“Oh, everything.” Lizzy folded over and wept into her hands. Astonished, Phoebe shifted to put her arm about the younger woman’s back, rubbing small circles as she cried.
 

After a while Lizzy’s tears stopped and she looked up sheepishly. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me this week.”

Phoebe smiled. Her emotions veered wildly this morning, but she was not quite at the point of tears. If she couldn’t find a way to hide the love-bite Selwood had placed on her neck, then Phoebe might very well consider it. She rubbed her hand over Lizzy’s back again. “I honestly don’t mind. Do you want to talk about it?”

Lizzy sat up sniffing, appearing ready to wipe her eyes with her hands. Phoebe rushed to her dresser draw and pulled out a clean white handkerchief to give her. Once Lizzy was calmer, she leaned against the window frame for support. “Warminster is an arse.”

Phoebe hugged Selwood’s sister closer to her side. “I agree. He’s positively beastly at times. I’ve found it best to ignore him.”

Lizzy dropped her head to Phoebe’s shoulder. “He thinks I should marry. He won’t let the matter drop.”

“Goodness, you must have been up with the crows to have already argued with him. I like to leave that pleasure till later in the day. And after our discussion last night, I imagined you’d try to avoid him altogether by taking your breakfast in your bedchamber.”

“I did have breakfast in my room. Early, as always. But Warminster slipped into my bedchamber and listed all of Lord Parker’s sterling qualities.”

“The list must have been very short.” Phoebe stilled. “Wait. Did you just say Warminster was in your bedchamber this morning?”

Lizzy nodded weakly and then started crying again. Honestly that man deserved a ball between his eyes for upsetting her friend so badly. No, wait. He deserved to be married.

Warminster had compromised Lizzy this morning.

It was just that no one had caught him.

God help him when Phoebe got her hands on him.
 

“Don’t you even consider confronting him over it?” Lizzy whispered as if reading her mind. “I just want him to leave me in peace.”

Phoebe set Lizzy a little apart, holding her by the shoulders until their gazes met. “What exactly did this morning’s conversation entail?”

Lizzy peered down at her twisting fingers. “He woke me. Must have brought the housekeeper’s key because I was sure I secured the lock. Said I should use the house party to get better acquainted with Lord Parker. He said he’d sing my praises while the men were out shooting this morning. He also suggested that I should put a little more effort into being agreeable.” Lizzy shrugged. “I got angry. I got out of bed and tried to kick his feet out from under him again. Next thing I knew he’d dragged me to the floor with him and he kissed me.”

Fury rose up in Phoebe. If Warminster had seduced this girl in her own bedchamber this morning, Phoebe was going to find every pistol hidden in this house and put lots of little holes through his foppish hide. “What else?”

“Nothing whatsoever.” Lizzy wiped her hands over her eyes furiously. “He left, slammed the door without a word. I was too stunned by his odd behavior to complain.”

So, Warminster did have a bit of control, but to kiss Lizzy in such a circumstance? He must be out of his mind. Should she tell Selwood about this?

Lizzy sat up straight, breathing deeply. She slipped out of Phoebe’s arms, but the struggle to remain calm was visible in the tense set of her shoulders. After a while, Lizzy glanced her way and offered a lopsided smile so much like Selwood’s that her heart missed a beat. Phoebe returned it, holding out her hand to squeeze the young woman’s cold fingers.
 

Lizzy’s smile faded. “What is that?”

“What?”

“That mark on your neck?”

Phoebe had been so wrapped up in Lizzy’s distress that she’d forgotten all about the lover’s mark on her skin. She flicked hair over it. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.” Lizzy’s eyes widened. “Are you ill? Quick, lie down.”

Lizzy reached for her again to peer at her neck, but Phoebe did her best to evade. “I’m not at all unwell. But it’s a private matter, one I don’t wish to discuss or have made public.”
 

Unfortunately, Lizzy flinched at her sharp tone. Perhaps Phoebe should have softened her voice, but the shock of wearing such a telling mark on her skin had unsettled her.
 

“A real friend would tell me the truth.” Lizzy’s eyes filled with tears. “I should have known you were only feeling sorry for me. You cannot trust a Warminster to ever tell the truth.”

“Lizzy, please, it’s complicated.”

“And I’m too simple to understand.” Lizzy turned and rushed out the door.
 

Phoebe wanted to follow but, given her undressed state, she couldn’t very well fly down the hall after Lizzy. Hastily, she shrugged out of her robe and nightgown, dragged a simple navy day dress from her closet and threw it over her head. Most of the buttons were hard to reach and while she fumbled behind her back, her bedchamber door burst open again.

Lizzy slapped her hand over the corner of a table, leaving a pot of something behind, and then rushed out again.
 

Startled, Phoebe drew closer to the object, discovering a cosmetic pot containing a beige cream. Grateful for the unexpected gift, Phoebe hurried to the looking glass, slathered the contents over the mark until only a faint outline could be seen, and then rushed from the room.

Lizzy was not in her bedchamber, though all her possessions were. She was also nowhere on the first floor, or mingling with the guests on the ground floor. In fact, Lizzy was nowhere to be found.

By the time Lord Selwood returned with the shooting party an hour later, Phoebe was so distraught she feared she’d burst into tears. She rushed outside to meet him.

“I’ve lost Lizzy,” she blurted out.

Selwood frowned and reached for her hands, drawing her away from the group of curious gentlemen. “Good grief, you’re shaking. Have you really lost her or is she hiding? She used to do that as a child.”

Despite the gawking gentlemen, Phoebe clutched at him. “She’s gone from the house. I’ve searched and searched.”

Jonathan shuffled his feet. “Perhaps she’s simply gone for a stroll. She’ll no doubt return soon.”

Phoebe shook her head. “She was upset this morning and then we had a disagreement.”

Selwood drew her to a bench and sat down close. “Tell me everything from the beginning.”

So Phoebe told him about Warminster’s early morning visit to Lizzy, holding Selwood’s hand tight when her lover would have risen to search for the blackguard. She also mentioned Lizzy’s discovery of the lovers’ mark on her neck. When she finished, Selwood appeared contrite.

“I lose all sense when we make love. My apologies.”

“None of that matters right now. We have to find Lizzy.”

Selwood stood, held out his hand to draw her to her feet. His calm gaze settled her nerves. “That will be easy. Lizzy will have returned home to Dalemain Court.” When he looped his arm about her shoulders and squeezed, Phoebe leaned into his chest. “Care to take a short drive to check on her? I shall deal with Warminster later.”

Phoebe nodded, burrowing deeper into his warmth and dragged his musky scent into her lungs. As much as she’d jump at the chance to drag him upstairs again, she had to sort out the mess she’d made of the morning. Poor Lizzy. In Phoebe’s efforts to avoid scandal she’d inadvertently hurt a dear friend.

Selwood’s arm slipped from her shoulder, but he captured her fingers and tugged. Together they strolled through the house, out the front door, and waited for a carriage to be brought round. Never once did Phoebe seriously consider dropping Selwood’s hand. She needed the reassurance of his touch to prove that he wasn’t angry about how she’d handled his sister’s questions. But most importantly, she hung onto him to prevent him from tracking down her stepson.

However, the sense of contentment that trickled through her as he handed her up into the carriage and settled against her side puzzled. Her lover was easy to be with, despite his much younger age. Lord Selwood, Jonathan, didn’t rattle about like other young men. His calm, even temperament soothed where his older friend—Warminster—prickled and pinched. Jonathan projected an air of quiet reserve that hid his amorous inclinations very well indeed.
 

She shouldn’t become used to being with him.

The short carriage ride was conducted in silence, but Jonathan constantly reminded her of his presence with the swipe of his thumb over the back of her hand. The gentle reassurance settled her heart and when the carriage ride ended, she calmly stepped out in his wake. Jonathan captured her hand again in a firm grip and led her into his rambling house, up the long flights of stairs and twisting corridors to Lizzy’s bedchamber.
 

At the door, he knocked and when they heard no reply, Jonathan opened the door.
 

Lizzy huddled in a tight ball on the window seat.
 

Relief coursed through Phoebe in a rush and although she tried to loosen Jonathan’s grip on her fingers, he pulled her all the way across the room with him. He dragged over two chairs and they sat to wait for Lizzy’s acknowledgement.
 

When she didn’t raise her head, Jonathan sat forward. “Shall I challenge him to a duel at dawn?”

“No.”

“Did he frighten you?”

“No.”

Jonathan dragged a hand through his hair. “Ma petit, I want so much to make things right.”

“You cannot.” Lizzy burst into another series of sobs that made Phoebe’s heart ache. “Nothing is right anymore.”

Cautiously, she got to her feet and sat beside the crying woman. When she didn’t object, Phoebe scooted closer. Lizzy pushed her away.

“Do not be angry with Phoebe, little one. She is your friend and you know it.”

Lizzy lifted her head and stared at her brother. “I used to believe so.”

Jonathan winked at his sister. “Of course she is. Phoebe practically ran me down to tell me she couldn’t find you anywhere at Moreton Hall.”

Lizzy’s gaze turned to Phoebe, but landed on her cosmetic covered neck. Her fingers swiped the beige paste away and she held up her fingers for her brother to see. He stared at them then his grim gaze landed on Phoebe. By the tense set of his jaw, she guessed he wanted to set the matter straight with Lizzy, but because of Phoebe’s own rules, she’d constrained him from doing so.
 

Heart pounding loud in her ears, Phoebe nodded, giving him permission to expose their affair. But she couldn’t stay to hear how Lizzy reacted. She simply couldn’t. “If you’ll excuse me, I believe I will return to Moreton Hall where I belong.”

Jonathan turned in his chair and captured her fingers again as she tried to escape the room. “Wait for me in my study. I’ll escort you home myself.”

Phoebe nodded and hurried for the hall.

CHAPTER EIGHT

“You gave Phoebe quite a fright today,” Jonathan remarked as he settled beside his sister on the window seat where Phoebe had just been. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t do that again.”

Lizzy scowled as she wiped her damp nose. “I cannot believe you’re defending her. I may not have understood completely this morning but I have realized what that mark on her neck means now.”

Jonathan leaned against the window frame. “Really. And that is?”

Lizzy appeared flustered by his question. “Oh, don’t make me say it.”

Amused, Jonathan leaned forward to rest his forearms on his thighs. “Well, if you’re going to make accusations about a woman I hold in the greatest esteem, you’d better choose your words with care.”

A shocked gasp left Lizzy’s throat. “Did y
ou
make the mark on her throat?”

“I did.” Jonathan shook his head. “A mistake on my part.”

Beside him, Lizzy’s breath rushed from her lungs loudly. After a long, silent moment, Jonathan turned to see her expression. His sister’s mouth hung open then she snapped it closed, and glanced about her.
So far so good
. At least she wasn’t shrieking about him seducing her best friend. Jonathan glanced down at the floor while he waited for Lizzy to decide how she’d react to the revelation.

 
“A mistake? Did you not mean to make love to her?”

Jonathan chuckled. “Oh, I intended and accomplished that. My mistake was losing my head and failing to keep my end of the bargain. I appreciate you sharing your special cream. The lady has a reputation to maintain after all.”

He didn’t mean to sound despondent about that last condition, but he must have conveyed his disappointment too clearly because Lizzy leaned her head against his shoulder. “Those Warminsters are nothing but trouble.”