Persistent Earl : Signet Regency Romance (9781101578841) (11 page)

“The good result was that one of our tenant farmers who was taking a shortcut home from the local pub heard me scream. He was terrified, of course, but he went racing to the big house and informed my father that a hideous monster had taken up residence in one of the caves—that he had heard it with his own ears. My parents put two and two together, and confronted my brother. They sent up a rescue party to fetch me home.”

Phoebe stood up and went to the earl. Not to offer him comfort at such a time went against everything in her nature, and she had already denied her first impulse at the park.

He was standing absolutely still, one hand clutching his cane and the other at his side, clenched into a fist. Phoebe reached for the fisted hand and slipped her own hands around it. It was so much larger than her own that she needed both of hers to cover it.

Devenham unclenched his fist and took one of Phoebe's hands in his. He let the cane drop to the floor and put his other arm around Phoebe, easing her against his chest. They stood there quietly embracing, drawing warmth and comfort from each other's nearness. Their hearts seemed to beat in unison.

“Your parents did not come themselves to find you and comfort you?” Phoebe whispered.

“Ah. My parents both believed that any son of theirs should be man enough to weather such an event without complaint.”

“And did you?”

“As best I could.”

“Was your brother punished?”

“Yes, for causing the tenant farmer to be frightened.”

“That is terrible!”

“Is it?” He pulled away from her a little and released her hand so that he could turn her face to look up at him. His hand slid up to cradle her cheek.

Phoebe closed her eyes for a moment, savoring his touch. How good it felt to have a man holding her again! When she opened her eyes, she felt the sudden flood of something much stronger than sympathy flow through her veins as she gazed into the depths of his blue eyes. Her rapid pulse seemed to have risen into her ears.

In the next moment she felt his lips on hers, touching gently and tentatively at first, then pressing harder, as if they had found reassurance in her response. She felt drunk—dizzy and out of control. An inner voice screamed at her that this was wrong, all wrong, yet another one screamed with equal force that nothing had ever been more right. She slid her arms around him and kissed him back, almost in relief at giving in at last to something she had been fighting from the first time she'd seen him.

The kiss escalated, and Phoebe began to tremble with the force of her denied passion. Then Devenham broke it off, pulling his head back.

“God help us,” he said, looking down at her.

Chapter Ten

“I must be mad.” Devenham looked at Phoebe in shock, thoroughly appalled at what he had done. He stepped back from her, still staring.

She stood absolutely still, apparently frozen in horror. Never in his whole life had he so regretted a kiss; he was not certain he had
ever
regretted one before now. “If I offered a thousand apologies, it would not be enough,” he said miserably. “After all that you and Allington and Lady Allington have done for me—this, this is how I repay you!”

He continued to stare at her, as if somehow he might discover an explanation for what had happened in the stricken expression on her face. He pushed away the lingering sense of the intense pleasure he had felt while kissing her, and he also pushed away his recognition of her warm response.

He was the one to blame. He was the one who had stepped so far out of bounds. He was the one who had jeopardized the fragile bonds of trust and friendship that he thought had begun to form between him and Lady Brodfield. He was the fool.

He uttered a brief, sharp laugh and turned away, moving toward the window. “You see? I am every bit the blackguard you took me for at first.” He stared out into the garden. “There are many people who would have warned you what to expect from me—nothing but the most reprehensible behavior. They would only be surprised to learn that I had not attempted to take advantage of you sooner. Edward gave no thought to your reputation when he allowed me to come under this roof.”

“Stop!”

The sharpness of her tone made him turn back to her in surprise.

She had buried her face in her hands and was shaking her head. “It was my fault—
mine.
You did not take advantage of me, and nothing you try to say now will alter the fact.”

“How can you say so?”

She raised her head again and let her hands drop. “Think on it. I was the one who asked you to come in here, and I was the one who went to you. You may try now to take refuge behind that black reputation you seem so unaccountably proud of, but I have seen what sort of man you really are, and I tell you, that pretense will not fadge with me, not anymore. I have seen you to be kind, generous, thoughtful, and courageous. If you were the blackguard you claim to be, you would not be trying to apologize, nor would you be accusing yourself of any wrongdoing. You are a fraud, sir.”

He hardly knew how to respond. “I have been called worse, although not without repercussions. But I will not challenge you to ‘grass before breakfast.' You are generous and softhearted; you offered me comfort, and instead I took my pleasure. Now you try to spare me from my own villainous actions. That I see them clearly does not change their nature. I apologize for this entire day—for making you come to the park, for forcing you to witness my cowardice, and for compounding these efforts with what can only be the greatest insult!” He turned away again, shaking his head in despair.

“You did not make me come to the park; I chose to go. And I am not insulted by what happened here.” She spoke very softly. “You know nothing of me or my history, sir. If you did, you would see very easily that the fault is mine. I pray you give it no further thought. What passed between us meant nothing. If you wish to pretend, then pretend that it never happened. We must simply forget it.”

She turned on her heel as she finished and hurried from the room, leaving him no chance to reply.

Devenham stared after her, still in shock after the events of the day.
What passed between us meant nothing?
He did not think so. Nor was he about to forget it. He had never told anyone about his fearful experience with the bats, yet Phoebe had gotten him to confide in her. She seemed to have magical curative powers over both the ills of his body and those of his heart. She had responded to his kiss like a wilting flower given water. But he did not know what to do about it. He definitely had a good deal of thinking to do.

***

Despite her strict intentions, Phoebe did not manage to treat Devenham quite as if nothing had happened between them. She had been appalled that he had blamed himself for what happened, and was relieved that he seemed to have listened to her arguments. But she realized now how fragile was her control over her own yearnings. The easy camaraderie that she had so gradually begun to enjoy with the earl was a pleasure she could no longer afford; when she was with him, she fought a constant battle against her longing to feel his touch again. A relationship between them was impossible. For both their sakes she needed to put distance between them; it was the only way she could keep up the pretense that she felt nothing.

Late in the afternoon of the second day after the incident, Edward asked her to join him in the study/library. She guessed that he had something to report about Beau Chatain, for she had spoken to him about her visit from Richard and had asked him to look into the value and status of the property.

“Do take a seat, Phoebe my dear,” Edward said cordially.

The shadows of the house had overtaken the garden outside the windows at this hour of the day, and the room was rapidly losing what was left of the natural daylight. Edward lit the lamp on his desk and sat down.

“You and Lord Devenham do not seem to be rubbing along together as nicely as you were, I have noticed,” he began, to her surprise. He was looking rather longingly at his collection of pipes, it seemed to Phoebe, instead of at her.

“What makes you say that?” she asked, trying to match his casual tone.

“Ahem! Er, well, to be honest, Judith, actually. Not to say that I didn't notice, for I did. But Judith was the one who wanted me to speak to you about it. I say, you and Devenham haven't had a disagreement, have you? As the one who invited him under our roof, I do feel responsible. I hope nothing untoward has occurred. I felt certain that you would have told me if it had.”

Phoebe sighed. There was nothing to be gained by burdening Edward and Judith with the trials of her heart or by causing any ill feeling between them and the earl. “No, dearest Edward,” she said, “rest assured that I would tell you if Lord Devenham behaved with any disrespect. If I have seemed distant, perhaps it is just that I am preoccupied. I have been thinking a good deal about Beau Chatain and what it could mean for my future.”

Edward seemed only partially mollified. He leaned forward, interlacing his fingers and setting them in front of him on the desk. “I have been thinking about your future, too, my dear. I shall speak of Beau Chatain in a moment, for I do have information for you. But Judith and I were hoping, frankly, that you might begin to consider the idea of remarriage.”

Phoebe watched Edward's fingers unlace themselves and begin to trace invisible patterns on the leather desktop.

“Lord Devenham is a handsome and charming man. I will confess that we had hoped that, at the very least, being with him would awaken you to the fact that you are still young and attractive, and there are many who might jump at the chance to be your husband. This recent increase in your fortune can only make the prospect even sweeter. I hope you'll forgive me for speaking so bluntly.”

Poor Edward was obviously uncomfortable, and Phoebe knew he had only her best interests at heart. “What is there to forgive?” she asked softly. “I could never hold it against you that you are looking out for me as my father would if he were alive, even though it is a job you never asked for, Edward. You have always been better to me than any brother by blood could possibly have been. I am sorry if I have disappointed you and Judith.” She lifted her chin and added more forcefully, “Lord Devenham is indeed handsome and charming; he is even kind. I just have no interest in him. I have no interest in remarrying.”

Edward did not reply for a moment but sat as he was, eyeing her thoughtfully.

I cannot tell him the truth
, Phoebe thought in near panic.
He must believe me. It will be far easier if he and Judith and all the world with them simply believe that I choose to live my life alone. If they think I am grieving for my lost love, so be it. I
could not bear it if they knew how I all but smothered Stephen with a blind, barren love that drove him to take his own life! I could not bear it if I lost their love, too.

“We can only offer our advice,” Edward said with a note of sadness in his voice. “You must do as you see fit, of course.”

“You said you had information for me about Beau Chatain? What have you learned?” She settled back in her chair, trying to appear unperturbed. It was a relief to change the subject so easily.

“I drove out there to see the property and to check on what Richard told you about the horses and servants. It is a small but very attractive estate—one in which I think you could live comfortably, although not luxuriously, given your supplemental income. However, Richard told you the truth about his having disposed of the stables and hired his own servants. The cattle we saw seem to be his own, not the earl's. Apparently he has been using the place regularly for several years, and not only in hunting season. He seems well established there, and given his interest in keeping it, I think you would do better to sell it to him than to incur his ill will by opposing him.”

“Has he made me a fair offer?”

“That still remains to be seen. I took a friend with me who is more experienced at evaluating properties, but there are several matters he says he must look into before he can arrive at an overall valuation.”

“Edward, I hope you know how much I do appreciate your help with this matter.” Phoebe bit her lip, thinking. “How do you suppose Richard has managed to spend so much time there in these past few years, when he has been serving with his regiment overseas?”

***

The evening of Lucinda Follett's musicale was warm and clear, with a sky full of stars that began to show even before the last traces of sunset had disappeared. The beauty of the evening seemed an encouraging sign to Phoebe. Her dismay over attending had been doubled by the new awkwardness with Devenham. How she wished she had never encouraged him to come along! She had thought she would feel safe sitting beside him for an evening, but how her heart had betrayed her! She had summoned all her courage as she dressed before dinner and now faced the hours ahead with a reserved smile that was fixed rigidly in place.

She was dressed in an evening gown of black crepe over a black sarcenet slip, which had resided in her wardrobe untouched for a year and a half. Mary Anne had spent considerable hours pressing it and freshening the trimmings of black
gros de Naples
and black crepe roses. Phoebe knew that it was not cut as low in front as might be fashionable, but the neckline was wide and exposed her smooth shoulders quite satisfactorily. Her hair was dressed with a black lacquered hair comb trimmed with jet that had been her mother's and some black crepe roses she had borrowed from Judith.

She had had a chance to admire Lord Devenham as the little party assembled in the entrance hall awaiting their carriage. He wore a perfectly fitted silk evening coat of deepest corbeau, with the obligatory white waistcoat and black pantaloons. An ornate silver watch fob covered his pocket, and he leaned on his silver-headed walking stick. His brown hair seemed especially glossy, and his eyes seemed to dance with a lively spirit. He looked outrageously handsome. Phoebe could not stop her smile from broadening a little with genuine pleasure when he bowed elegantly and offered her his arm for the walk to the carriage outside.

There was little traffic at this hour in the West End, and the few blocks to Lucinda's home were covered quickly. There was a line of carriages waiting to discharge their passengers at the door, however, so several minutes were spent waiting. The occupants of the Allington landau were all surprised to see such a large number of guests arriving.

“I had the impression that this was to be a small musicale, not a major rout,” Judith said with some concern. “I had no idea there were this many people left in Town this late! Where do you suppose they have all come from?”

“I could be wrong, my dear, but is that not Princess Esterhazy being helped from her carriage?” Edward was seated where he could observe the progress of the arrivals from the carriage window.

Judith twisted in her seat and tried to see out her window without actually being so gauche as to stick her head out. “I can't tell. Oh, dear. Who would have thought that
she
would be coming?” The imposing wife of the Austrian ambassador and patroness of Almack's was notoriously high in the instep.

“Come now, pet, don't get all in a fluster,” Edward added in his gruff, kindly way. “We are all handsomely decked out, and I'm sure every bit as respectable as we would have been if we'd known she was invited.”

That Lucy had gone to considerable expense and trouble to put on her musicale was obvious from the moment her guests entered the house. Fresh flowers and ribbon streamers bedecked the main staircase that led to the first floor, and more of the same had been attached to the ornate ceiling cornice in her generously sized drawing room. A bank of candles on the marble fireplace mantel and another on the pianoforte, which had been drawn into the center of the room, supplemented the bright glow from the room's chandelier and wall sconces.

Beside the mahogany and satinwood piano stood a harp, two music stands, and chairs for five performers. Seating for the guests had been artfully arranged in several circular rows surrounding these. Lucy had obviously hired chairs for the occasion, for these were no hodgepodge of assorted sofas and arm chairs scavenged from other rooms in the house, but a regular and for the most part matching collection of black-and-gold painted side chairs with caned seats.

“I see that your friend Lady Follett does have an idea how to do a thing right,” Devenham whispered intimately in Phoebe's ear as they entered the room.

She hoped no one noticed. She ignored the shiver that ran through her and nodded her head very slightly to acknowledge that she had heard him. What if he decided to be mischievous and improper, as she knew well he could be? He would not do so in public, would he? They waited quietly behind Edward and Judith as the guests ahead of them greeted their host and hostess and selected seats. Maybe there would not be four seats together by the time it was their turn. Maybe the earl would have to sit elsewhere.