“You have your own mind, do you not?”
“This plan, this grand design, was orchestrated between our fathers before I could even speak and cemented when I was still just a child.” Phoebe gestured with an outstretched arm toward the ballroom where everyone was gathered. “Even if they were ever to have predicted that it would be our bond that grew strong and stood the test of time, it would not be the two of us who were matched together. Evan is the eldest son, and so it would always be.”
Owen beseeched her further. “I have never disobeyed or gone against my family, but perhaps now, at this monumental turning point of our lives, it is time to embrace this scandal we have both pretended has not existed all these years.”
Phoebe turned away from him, wrapping her own arms about herself, and turning her eyes to the ground. When she spoke, her voice was soft, low, and decided. “I have been avowed to him, and I would not risk my dignity or my honor—or his—for anything. I care for your brother.”
“Tradition cannot govern the paths of all human lives for infinity. There must be those who dare to object. There must be those who have the courage to decide for themselves.” Owen took a step toward her, his expression flushed with passion. He looked almost as if he were ready to take her by the shoulders and shake her, but instead he clenched his hands into fists and shook his head. “We could choose our own path.”
She turned back to him with sorrow in her expression and an aged wisdom in her eyes far beyond her years. “I have always been the child amongst us all—but now it is you who needs to grow wise. Even if what you spoke of was not betrayal at its most heinous, it would be impossible.”
She wiped away her tears before anyone should see them and corrected her posture so that she once again stood tall and proud. “Goodnight, Owen. I hope your head troubles you no more.”
* * *
The dancing eventually came to an end. It had been a wonderful evening. Phoebe felt lighter than air. She’d felt beautiful twirling and posing in the ballroom, and every time Evan touched her hand, she’d been overcome with a sensation of giddiness and delight.
It had all been wonderful with the exception of her conversation with Owen, which had left her more than a little heartbroken. She’d gone immediately back into the ballroom to rejoin the merriment and had put Owen’s talk of closeness, love, and betrayal to the back of her mind. While she had been dancing with Evan, she’d been almost able to forget all of Owen’s anger and bitterness.
Now the music had stopped and the guests were leaving, her guilt came back to flood her senses.
Evan came to her side. “Phoebe, you look a little pale. Is everything all right?”
“Yes. All this dancing has simply left me entirely spent. I’m looking forward to the comfort of home.”
“This may be the last night we see each other for some time, Phoebe. If it were proper to do so, I might take your hands and kiss them. I might stroke back your hair and avow my heart to yours.”
His sweet words drew a smile from Phoebe. “If it were proper to do so, I might tell you that this evening has been like some wonderful dream. I might rest my cheek upon your shoulder and draw some comfort from being close to you.”
Evan’s expression showed evidence of some restraint on his part. Phoebe very much believed that had they been somewhere discreet and private, he might even have dropped all formalities and kissed her.
She was thankful that there were eyes upon them. While sweet nothings came easily, the knot in her stomach had still not released itself since Owen had admonished her so harshly in the hall.
“In time we will have more than words,” Evan vowed. “All those intimacies of which we dream will be ours to pursue. We shall be close in spirit and body, an unbreakable union.”
Phoebe’s eyes brimmed with the sting of tears. Never in her young life had she ever felt so conflicted or confused, yet she knew she was helpless to change her path. As Miss Bennet had wisely told her, she had never had a choice. What use was there yearning for a life that could never be?
She lowered her voice so that she could not be heard by others and glanced surreptitiously about the ballroom. She took a single step closer to Evan and looked up into his sharp, kind eyes. “I will be lost without you…”
Evan swallowed, the expression of self-control faltering somewhat with her advance. She saw his hand curl into at his side, forming a fist against the emotions he desired to release; or so she imagined.
He cleared his throat and leaned in toward her. “I love you. And when I return, we shall be wed.”
Phoebe closed her eyes and let the honey of his words soothe her. She needed to know she was loved. Even if her feelings toward Evan were yet unclear to her, she was reassured and comforted to be loved by him. He was a gentleman who promised her no harm. He was nothing if not benevolent and well-intentioned.
“Please hurry back to me,” she begged. “I don’t want to be here without you.”
She meant the words that escaped her lips. If Owen no longer offered his friendship, then she was bereft. She had suffered the loss of her oldest and dearest friend this evening, leaving her with only Evan’s affection to pin her hopes upon.
“If we were already wed, how would you bid me goodbye?” she asked.
“With a kiss, Phoebe.”
Her heart pounded in her chest. Nothing more illicit or enticing had ever been offered her than the promise of a kiss. So little affection had been offered to her in her life with the loss of her mother and the formality of the world in which she lived. She longed to be cradled and cherished, to be kissed and protected.
She suddenly felt as if eyes were upon them and when she turned, she found her instinct to be correct. The Duchess was staring at the couple from across the room and a pair of guests taking their leave were casting backward glances.
Instinctively, Phoebe took a step back and curtsied for Evan. “Be safe in all your travels, Evan. Until we meet again.”
* * *
Miss Bennet stood behind Phoebe at her vanity table, working carefully to release the hidden pins from her hair.
“You haven’t spoken since you returned from Bentley Manor, My Lady. You seem troubled.”
“My troubles are not the kind I can confess, Miss Bennet, even though I wish for your guidance.”
“Then say nothing aloud. Trust that your governess knows you well enough to understand without words.” She finished removing pins and began to brush out Phoebe’s long hair in silence. After a while, she dared speak of her own secrets. “I was once torn between two gentlemen.”
Phoebe span in her seat, gripping the back of her chair to stare at Miss Bennet. “Please tell me what happened.”
Miss Bennet’s gaze grew hazy as she stared blankly at the wall. Phoebe waited patiently for her memory or her emotions to serve her well enough to speak of her experience.
“When I was about the age you are now, I had two suitors competing for me hand in marriage.”
“Who were they?”
“Edward Philips, the son of the Marquess of Redfern, and Joseph Helmsford, the Viscount Thinby.”
Miss Bennet finished brushing Phoebe’s hair, then bid her to stand so that she might unfasten her dress and the corset beneath. She continued her story as she helped Phoebe undress for the night.
“Both were excellent suitors, in their own right. They were both the eldest sons of fathers with great fortunes. My parents let the choice be mine.
“Now, Lord Redfern was strong, brave, and valiant. He told marvelous stories; he was a gentleman of great honor. He defended the weak and would offer a good word for any gentleman in order to assist him in seeking a better life. He always went beyond his social duties to assist others.
“Lord Thinby was an academic, a physician. He was well-traveled, educated, and articulate. He would speak a great deal about literature and the arts. He was the most engaging conversationalist.”
Phoebe listened intently. “Whom did you love the greatest?�
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“To this day I still don’t know. Lord Redfern was younger and more physically adept. He had the greater sense of humor and enjoyed the social duties of his station. He was great fun.
“But Lord Thinby carried great emotional depth. He was deeply sincere in all he said and did, and he always made me feel as if I were more than simply a lady to decorate his household. When he spoke to me, he truly listened to my answers. I learned a great deal about medicine from him as he never opposed my learning, and it gave us plenty to talk about.”
“So you chose neither?”
Miss Bennet’s voice faltered. “Neither chose me.” She finished unlacing Phoebe’s corset and stepped back so Phoebe could step out of the garment. “After my father died and our fortunes were lost, they both ceased their courtships of me. My heart was broken twice.”
“I’m very sorry for your pains, Miss Bennet.”
“Love is the invention of fiction, My Lady. One must take into consideration one’s own comfort and pleasure. Consider also the loyalty of the gentleman who asks for your hand. Will he be faithful? Will he be true? Will he stand by your side if the world you stand upon falls away?”
Phoebe’s voice felt lost in her throat. “I do not feel this matter is a question of loyalty of a gentleman to me but more of my duties as a daughter. What has been arranged, I cannot undo.”
“And I would not advise you to attempt to undo it, My Lady,” Miss Bennet said firmly. “Lord Huxley will care for you, and you needn’t fear him. We are all subject to spells of infatuation in our youth, but my experience has taught me that even the greatest feelings of love can conceal what is only a passing fancy on the gentleman’s part. Your heart may be shouting loudly at you, My Lady, but it does not necessarily speak true, simply because it speaks loud.
“Follow the path that has been paved for you. It leads to security and comfort. The other path is reckless and will prove unfruitful. Believe me when I tell you that love is a myth, but duty is an absolute truth.”
Chapter 8
Lady Ann Walters was so pale that Owen could see every vein beneath her paper-thin skin. She wore a lace bonnet with floral embellishments. Owen imagined she must have never taken it off a day in her life.
Against his conscious intentions, his thoughts turned to Phoebe, who had never taken in any great seriousness toward the wearing of hats. Owen knew for certain that when she sat alone in the sun, she would remove any cap or bonnet in order to feel the sun’s warmth on her skin. It had left her with a warm complexion and gave her the appearance of a creature of the light.
Lady Ann seemed much more a creature of the moonlight; she was so fragile and thin-skinned that it seemed she might be damaged by the light of day upon her.
Her blonde hair curled into ringlets and she wore a sky-blue dress. Her appearance was reminiscent of the country shepherdesses Owen had seen represented in oil paintings.
For all her fairness, she wore far too much rouge upon her cheeks. When a pink flush came to her face upon their introduction at the assembly rooms, the excess of rouge made her seem positively burning.
Yet Owen maintained his poise and bowed at the waist to greet her when Roger introduced them one to the other.
“Lord Boltmon, it is a great pleasure to meet you.”
“The pleasure is all mine, My Lady.”
A step behind Lady Ann stood her mother, Her Grace, The Duchess of Sinclaire. She appeared pleased at the early introductions, no doubt somewhat relieved to see a suitor of noble descent take interest in her youngest, yet still well-aged, daughter. Lady Ann Walters was already twenty years of age and still unspoken for.
Roger fell back to walk with the Duchess as Lady Ann and Owen toured the assembly rooms.
It was a public social event but allowed Owen the opportunity to make acquaintance with a lady previously unintroduced to him. It relieved him somewhat to walk in a social circle which wasn’t occupied by Phoebe. If he were to glance at her beautiful visage while attempting to court another, he knew he would lose all resolve and waste away, yearning forever for his first love.
“Tell me something about yourself, My Lady.”
Lady Ann tittered like a little bird. Owen found her giggling and swooning to be highly irritating. Her shows of interest were almost embarrassing to behold. She kept her eyes fixed upon him so solidly that she almost lost her footing, and she kept glancing around the assembly to ensure that eyes were upon her. It was well known that if a couple were witnessed together often enough within society, that the presumption of their courtship would be made.
It seemed to Owen that Lady Ann was attempting to force this presumption with her loud laughter and flirtatious manners. Although she stood an acceptable distance from him, she fluttered her eyelashes thickly, as if blinking through butter.
“Well, My Lord, I play the pianoforte well, and I sing. I have an excellent eye for interior décor and I often redesign the rooms within our home with the latest fashions in furniture and art. And I read, of course. Nothing stirs the soul like a book about love,” she blinked at him meaningfully.
“Indeed.”
“Do you read, My Lord?”
“Mostly for learning, rarely for leisure.”
“You are training to become a lawyer, are you not?”
“That’s correct.”
She kicked out her skirts with each step. It made her seem like a child in oversized garments.
She looked up at Owen with some open curiosity in her expression. “Why did you not join the military? Surely a gentleman of your status would have found his place and rank with ease?”
“I consider myself more an academic than a soldier.”
“My mother always said that when house and land are gone and spent, then learning is most excellent.” She considered the words a moment. “I always believed it was an expression she used to encourage me in my studies. I believed it to mean, as a lady, that I should always have value even if I should not have a fortune to my name.
“I’ve never heard it used to describe a gentleman’s academic pursuits, but perhaps it is fitting. When the fighting has wiped out the land, at least educated men will be left standing. Not every gentleman can be the fighting kind, I suppose. If every gentleman were gifted only with courage and strength, then we would have none with intelligence.”
Owen interpreted a thinly-veiled insult in her commentary parallel to her praise. He could sense she valued courage and strength and felt that without enlistment in the military, he must possess none.
“My brother, the Marquess of Huxley, is a naval officer and a merchant. I did have to ask myself who would care for our parents if both brothers were posted elsewhere.”
“Do you not have sisters, My Lord?”
“My parents were not blessed with a daughter.”
“Then they deserve a sensitive son.”
Owen ground his teeth within his jaw, feeling undermined by this lady with such a poor impression of him.
“If I were at war, then we should have no occasion to meet, My Lady.”
“That’s quite true. When my first suitor enlisted I was filled with such a great sense of pride and honor. He died in battle before we were ever engaged.”
“My condolences, My Lady.”
“You should have seen the memorials they held for him. He died with the greatest of honor to his name. The memory of him still looms large in my heart. Such bravery, such virtue.”
“I imagine you would be cautious not to marry a gentleman in a similar position, considering your grief at losing the gentleman who courted you?”
She laughed gaily. “Not at all. A gentleman’s honor is the foundation of his standing. What has a gentleman to say for himself who would not die for his country?”
Owen felt the urge to redirect the course of the conversation. The more they spoke of war and virtue, the less respected he felt.
“I am enjoying my study of the law,” he told her. “It is of interest to learn what does and does
not constitute illegal activity, and how the law has been presided over through the ages. For example, were you aware that until the end of the fourteenth century, there was a separate court for laws that related to fish? It was called the Leyhalmode. Fascinating.”
Lady Ann’s grimace suggested she found this anecdote to be anything other than interesting. She pressed instead for further information about Owen’s career aspirations. “You will become a judge, then?”
“A judge or a barrister, yes.”
“A barrister! A gentleman of your station is surely too noble for such a position?”
An Immoral Dilemma For The Scandalous Lady (Steamy Historical Romance) Page 6