An Immoral Dilemma For The Scandalous Lady (Steamy Historical Romance)

by Olivia Bennet

  “She is soon to be your sister-in-law.”

  “Yes.”

  “Will I have to be witness to longing glances across the table between you and she when I am at your side?”

  “Lady Phoebe has rejected me over and over. She has been loyal to my brother since the day they were betrothed. She would never allow anything to happen between us, and from now on, neither will I.”

  “She is a lady of integrity, also. That is no surprise. She seems to be the perfect example of a lady, through and through.”

  * * *

  Roger agreed to meet Owen at the gentlemen’s club to share scotch and conversation.

  They met early in the evening and sat together by the fireplace in the light of the flickering flames in matching leather armchairs with glasses of scotch in their hands.

  “Why did you call me here?” Roger asked.

  “I wanted you to know that I have come to a decision.”

  “What decision is that?”

  “I am putting your sister entirely from my mind.”

  His words made Roger sit up with interest. “You are?”

  “Lady Ann spoke with me today. She has noticed the affections I harbor for Phoebe.”

  “She and everyone else who has ever seen you in the same room as Phoebe.”

  “It made me realize that I am hurting a multitude of people in what I am doing. I am betraying your father and mine. I am placing Phoebe in an entirely unjust situation that risks her reputation in having to continuously deny me. And now I am also causing hurt to Lady Ann, who has been hurt many times before. It is time I draw a line beneath this and learn to let Phoebe go.”

  Roger slapped him on the back in a brotherly way. “It is good to hear you say that, my friend. Very good indeed.”

  “Can you forgive me for the madness which I allowed to envelop me?”

  “It is forgotten.”

  “I will not visit her again unless it is in the company of others, such as a dinner or ball. I will learn to see her as a sister, and nothing more.”

  “And Lady Ann?”

  “She has habits which are irritating to me, but I also sense that she has depth to her. I believe she may have become shallow through the years of waiting. Once she believed in love, but love never came for her. She had no choice in the end but to pursue marriage, for it was the only way to secure her future, love or not.”

  “You will continue to court her, then?”

  “Yes. In time, I believe we may grow fond of each other. Despite her more irritating mannerisms, she is kind and humble. It is my goal to guide her toward more interesting topics of conversation. At the next parlor night, I have promised to teach her to play cards.”

  Roger smiled widely. “It is the nobler path.”

  “I know. It has taken me time to see the error of my ways, but I have exhausted every effort. Phoebe and Evan are betrothed to be wed. I must now find happiness for myself elsewhere.”

  * * *

  Phoebe overheard her father talking with the Duke in the drawing room. It was unlike the Duke to not greet her upon his visit and it seemed unusual to her. Uninvited, she stepped into the room and curtseyed.

  “My Lord Duke. What a pleasant surprise. How do you do?”

  The look exchanged between her father and the Duke gave her cause for concern. She looked between one and the other and saw the worry in their eyes.

  “Has something happened?”

  Her father gestured toward an empty seat opposite the Duke. “Take a seat, Phoebe. We have received word of Lord Huxley.”

  “Lord Huxley?” Phoebe’s heart caught in her throat and suddenly her head seemed full of thunder. She sat down and clasped her hands together desperately on her lap. “What is the news?”

  “The fleet was due to arrive in India from China two weeks ago,” the Duke explained. “Only one ship has arrived. They brought with them news of a great storm that struck them on their voyage. There is no sign of Evan or the rest of the fleet, but the Chinese port has sent word of the wreckages and debris of sunken ships that were found upon their recovery mission.”

  “Lord Huxley is missing?”

  Her father laid a gentle hand upon her shoulder, “My darling daughter, we fear that Lord Huxley has perished.”

  Phoebe let out a great cry of anguish and the tears came immediately, hot and heavy. She threw herself onto her father’s shoulder and heaved with sobs.

  Evan had been her friend for all of her life, and her fiancé for many years. In the last two years, he had been closer to her still. He had spoken to her of love and passion; he had promised her the world. She had imagined her future with him. She had adjusted to the thought of life with him at her side. All her pretences of true love had created something real enough to miss; real enough to mourn when it was lost.

  The Earl did away with all formalities and embraced Phoebe closely. “Be strong, my daughter.”

  Behind her, the Duke’s eyes were wet also with tears, although he remained stoic and the only sound he emitted was that of him clearing his throat repeatedly.

  Phoebe lifted her head and held out her hands to beseech the Duke. “Evan is a born sailor. I don’t believe he could ever perish at sea. He is most at home on the waves. It is all he ever speaks of. He loves the sea; it would never claim him. We must continue the search.”

  The Duke laid a hand softly on her head like the Pope offering a blessing. “We will, my dear. We will continue to search for him, but there is little hope of finding him alive. Little hope of finding him at all. The sea is a deep and vast grave.”

  “I must leave to comfort Tabitha, Jacob. And I have yet to give Owen the news.”

  Phoebe lifted a trembling hand over her mouth. She had not even considered the grief the news of Evan’s death would bring Owen. He cared deeply for his older brother.

  Lifting herself to her feet, Phoebe crossed the room to throw her arms around the Duke. “I don’t care for whether it is improper, My Lord Duke. All my prayers are with you.”

  The Duke cradled her for the moment as if she were his own child, allowing his cheek to rest briefly against her hair. Then he quickly stepped back with tears in his eyes and his voice husky. “I am sorry for your loss. Evan loved you dearly.”

  * * *

  There was silence in the drawing room. Phoebe, Roger, and her father sat in mournful silence, interrupted only by the occasional sob that Phoebe couldn’t repress.

  “It is hard to believe,” Roger said softly. “He was such a competent sailor.”

  “Don’t say it like that.” Phoebe lifted her tear-stained eyes to his, her voice choked by her tears. “They may yet find him.”

  Roger spoke to her gently. “They have been missing for some time. The odds of finding him now are next to none.”

  “He promised me.” Her jaw trembled and her eyes flooded. “He promised he’d return. All we have spoken about over all these months is of the day he would come back to me.”

  The Earl sat at her side and placed his hands over hers. “The sea is treacherous. He could not have predicted the storm nor made the ships resist the waves if they were too great.” He bowed his head. “It is I who must learn to live with the guilt this tragedy incurs. I instructed the extra week in India in order that he might meet with Lord Edwin while he was in port with his own fleet.”

  “This is not your fault, father.” Phoebe squeezed his hands. “As you say, nobody could have predicted a storm was coming.”

  “I pray you can forgive me.”

  “There is nothing to forgive.”

  Roger leaned forward. “Know this, Phoebe—you will always be cared for by this family. Husband or no, you will be provided for. If father should pass, I would take you under my care for as long as you were alone.”

  She offered him a tender smile. “Thank you, Roger. I am blessed that you are my brother and that you are my father.” She looked between them and took some comfort from their love for her.

  “It is not fear
for provision that burdens me,” she said. “I loved him.”

  “I witnessed the love blossom,” her father agreed. “This is a tragedy in its truest form.” He paused a moment in thought. “I will speak with the Duke. Perhaps the glass house at Bentley Manor should make a fine memorial for Lord Huxley.”

  Phoebe’s eyes brimmed with fresh tears; her eyes were sore and puffy from crying the whole day through. “I should like that very much. It was something we shared. It was a way we devised that he would still be with me even if we were far apart. In that effect, perhaps it shall still serve its purpose.”

  She dried her eyes. “If you would excuse me. I should like to retire to my room now.”

  Her father and her brother stood to embrace her before she left.

  The Earl spoke to her one final time. “You make me proud, Phoebe. You are dignified and courageous. Bless you, my daughter. I pray you’ll find some peace in sleep tonight.”

  * * *

  There was a tentative knock at the door. Phoebe bid the visitor to enter. It was her dear Miss Bennet, her skin blotched from her own grieving.

  “May I enter, My Lady?”

  “Of course.”

  Miss Bennet came in and closed the door behind her, then briskly strode across the room to sweep Phoebe into her arms and cradle her like her own daughter on the end of the bed.

  “My sweet child. I haven’t been able to cease these tears since I heard of your loss. My heart has broken for you a thousand times today.”

  Phoebe’s broke from her dignified repose and cried against Miss Bennet’s shoulder like the child she felt inside. “I cannot accept that it is true. I still feel him.”

  “I’m sorry, My Lady. He is gone.”

  “For all this time, all our correspondence has been through letters. It feels as if I am simply waiting the next one. It feels as if he is still out there, thinking of me as I think of him.”

  Miss Bennet stroked back Phoebe’s hair gently. “I know what strength it took for you to give your heart to him, yet you gave it fully. It is a cruel twist of fate that this should be your reward.”

  “I truly loved him.” Phoebe shook her head in sorrow, her tears falling onto her lap, leaving a trail of wet spots on her nightclothes. She ran a hand through her loose, wild hair. “He was a sweet and generous gentleman. The world is far worse a place without him.”

  “Your father and brother will take care of you now.”

  “They always have.”

  “And they always will.” Miss Bennet drew in a deep breath and dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. “I thank the Lord for them. They will never abandon you.”

  “I feel a monster, Miss Bennet, for through all of my grief and mourning for Evan, for all the pains I feel for him, I still must ask myself—what becomes of me now?”

  Chapter 14

  Owen was sitting in the courtyard of Bentley Manor. It was a cold afternoon with something of a frost in the air. It was October now and winter was well on its way.

  There were no flowers upon the shrubs in the flower beds and the grass had lost its luster. The birdsong had changed from the cheerful songs of summer to the isolated chirps of winter birds.

  He sat on a lone iron bench with his elbows on his knees and his head bowed. He thought only of his brother and felt his loss deeply along with the bitter disbelief that it was Evan who perished when he had always been the stronger, more resilient brother.

  “My Lord?”

  Looking up, Owen saw that Lady Ann had entered the courtyard with her brother, Lord Denmoore, a step behind. Lord Denmoore offered his condolences to Owen then took a seat on the bench on the other side of the courtyard.

  Lady Ann sat beside Owen and spoke. “My Lord, there are no words. I know my condolences are not enough. I am so sorry for the loss of your brother.”

  “The news has traveled quickly, I see.”

  “Your father sent for me. He told me that you have isolated yourself from the household. He wondered if I might be able to offer some comfort.”

  “What comfort is there? Evan is gone.”

  “He will be mourned by many. Your father is planning a funeral so that all may say their goodbyes.”

  “A funeral?” Owen scoffed. “My brother’s body is at the bottom of the Indian Ocean.”

  Lady Ann fell silent—a rarity for her. She looked down at her lap and said nothing, although after a moment had passed, she silently took his hand. A small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.

  Her hand was small in his, but her touch brought him out of his reverie somewhat. He looked up and saw that her face was full of concern for him. She wore no make-up; her hair was not styled. She had not dressed herself to impress him today. He could see that she was here only to offer comfort.

  “I have always been lesser than he,” Owen said. “I have been a scholar while he has been a naval officer. I have been unmarried while he has been engaged. I have brought nothing to our household while he builds our family’s fortunes. Although there was no way that I could have taken his place, I feel it should have been me who perished. The world needed him far more than it needs me.”

  “No, you are wrong, My Lord.” Lady Ann squeezed his hand boldly. “The world needs men like you. Strong, moral men of principle. Mourn for your brother, but never believe you should have taken his place.”

  “I cannot be in the manor,” Owen told her. “The grief inside is overwhelming. My father has instructed all the servants to wear black and to dim the lights. It has become a living mausoleum. Night and day I hear my mother howling in sorrow and my father simply sits in his office in silence, staring at the walls.”

  “The manner of grieving will change over time. It will become less oppressive.”

  “I don’t know how to honor him. I don’t know how to bring comfort to my family. Even now, I am failing them all. If there was ever a time for me to step up and assume the role of a leader, it would be now. But I find myself deficient of the strength required.”

  “It is not your responsibility to carry the grief of everyone, My Lord. You have grief enough of your own.”

  Owen smiled at Lady Ann, as weak as that smile might have been. His entire being felt feeble and drained.

  “Your compassion is well-received, My Lady. I am glad you are here.”

  His words caused Lady Ann’s eyes to fill with tears. “I will always be here.”

  * * *

  It had been many years since Owen last stepped into the secret grove behind Wycliff House.

  It was as he remembered it. The pond waters were murky, but the evergreen trees formed a canopy that protected the grove from view. A bench faced the water, creating the perfect place for a lonely soul to hide.

  Owen had entered the grounds through the wooded trail that provided a direct route into the nearest village. It gave him the means to circumnavigate the front entrance of the house and to not be seen arriving at the Wycliff estate.

  He headed straight to the grove and found her there.

  Phoebe was sitting on the bench, her blank gaze staring out over the waters. She was dressed in black. With her long dark hair, she appeared as a shadow haunting the grove.

  Her face was pale and her eyes red-rimmed. There was an unbearable look of sorrow in her expression that made Owen yearn to hold her, and it broke his heart yet again.

  “Phoebe.”

  Phoebe gasped and spun around in her seat. “Owen!”

  “May I join you?”

  “Now more than ever it would be wise for us to keep company with one another under the eyes of others.”

  “I’m only here to provide comfort and in the hope to find some myself.”

  She gestured to the bench. “You mustn’t stay long.”

  Owen sat beside her and looked out over the pond. It was as calm here as he remembered it, and he was grateful for the coolness of the air and the solitude of the spot.

  “I needed to see you,” Owen said. “How are you withstanding your grief?�
�

  “As well as can be, I suppose.” Phoebe adjusted her black bonnet and tugged at her black silk gloves to draw them higher up her wrists. “I am torn between crying and being certain he’s not truly gone.”

  “It is a strange sensation mourning for one who has been gone for so long. I am already not used to seeing him in the halls or offering a daily greeting, so nothing has changed but the knowledge he won’t return.”