“As you know, I complete my studies this fall, and as I draw to the end of this time of my life and am due to embark upon my career, I have begun to give great through to my future. I am unmarried.”
He paused and looked between them. He could not see any flicker of understanding in their expressions yet so he continued.
“When I began to think about where I might begin to find a bride, my thoughts turned to Lady Phoebe and her plight. Two years have passed since Evan’s demise, and she is still unmarried.”
“What are you suggesting, Lord Boltmon?” Lord Wycliff asked.
“It is not wholly unusual for a younger brother to step up in the case of the demise of his older brother to ensure the care and protection of said brother’s bride.” He cleared his throat. “Lady Phoebe remains single, as do I. I am about to begin a career where I might make a considerable income and be able to provide a good living for myself and a wife.”
He turned to Lord Wycliff and lifted his chin boldly. “My Lord, I would like your blessing to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage. Although there may be no romantic history between us, we were raised as children together and I know her well. We have both grieved my brother’s loss, and I believe we can provide comfort to each other in a marriage of our own.”
“You wish to marry my Phoebe?” Lord Wycliff appeared completely stricken with surprise. He subsided back into his chair and rubbed his chin in shocked contemplation. “Such a thing had never crossed my mind.”
“It had crossed mine,” the Duke confessed. “Son, is this offer based upon your own desire or your wish to please me, knowing how I have feared for the Lady Phoebe’s future?”
“You love her as a daughter, Father, as I love her as a sister. I feel duty bound to care for and protect her.” He swallowed, speaking his rehearsed speech and making every effort to make it seem as if it were coming naturally in the moment. “She is pleasant company and I have my sights on no other lady. Once we all dreamed of uniting our two households through the bonds of marriage, to secure a lifelong friendship and joint business enterprise. In the absence of any infatuation of my own, I believe it to be prudent and wise to fulfill those plans now.”
Lord Wycliff turned to the Duke. “What do you make of this, Duncan?”
“Lady Phoebe’s hand is not mine to give away, my friend. This is the first I’m hearing of this, but Owen, you have my blessing. Jacob, this is your decision.”
“For the welfare of my daughter and the love I have for your father and yourself, Lord Boltmon, you have my blessing, also. If Phoebe agrees to it, you have my permission to marry.”
* * *
Owen walked calmly out of Wycliff House but as soon as he was out of sight, he dashed through the estate to the grove where he knew Phoebe was waiting to hear the outcome of the conversation.
She was sitting on the bench, restlessly fidgeting and continuously turning over her shoulder to look for him. When she spotted Owen at last, she jumped up and held out her arms to him.
He came to her and she threw her arms around him tightly. “Oh Owen, I can hardly breathe. I’m not sure I can bear to hear what was said. Tell me, dear God, tell me that it is good news.”
“It is the most wonderful news, My Love.” Owen laughed in wild exhilaration. He picked Phoebe up by the waist and spun her around until her laughter echoed through the grove. “We have the blessing of both your father and mine.”
“And was there any suspicion as to the nature of our relationship before now?”
“Your father was entirely shocked and mine believed it was an offer I made to please him.”
“To please him?”
“Phoebe, he loves you as his own. Hardly a day goes by where he does not express concern for your future wellbeing. He has wanted to see you safe and secure ever since Evan was lost.”
Her eyes welled with happy tears and she clasped her hands together under her chin. “God bless him! I will love him as I love my own father for the grace and care he has shown me all these years.”
She bounded into Owen’s arms and kissed him deeply. The passion between them was so intense that the temperature seemed to rise within the grove.
Owen could not draw himself away when she kissed him. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her body close to his. Her hands were in his hair, grasping at him and pulling him down toward her mouth where another kiss awaited.
He embraced her tightly, feeling the slim shape of her body pressed against his and imagining the day he would see beneath her dresses and chemises; his Phoebe laid bare.
“I love you more than words can describe.”
“I don’t need poetry, Owen. Knowing you love me is more than enough.”
* * *
Phoebe and Owen didn’t attend the same parish church so the banns were to be read twice, once in each of their respective churches. For three consecutive Sundays, the banns would be read, and if there were no objections, then the minister would give them license to marry.
They had submitted their details a week prior and today was the first time that their intention to wed would be made public.
Sitting next to her father, Phoebe tried to contain her glee; she needed to look demure and innocent despite knowing she had spent in excess of two years courting Owen already, that they had kissed beneath a grand oak and in their hidden grove, that they had held hands and nestled close to one another a thousand times already.
When the minister began to read the banns, she felt tingles down her spine and froth in her stomach like the bubbles of a brook tickling her from within. She was more excited that she could ever explain.
“I announce the banns of marriage between Lady Phoebe Elkins of Wycliff and Lord Owen Boltmon of Bentley. If any of you know of any cause or just impediment, why these two persons should not be joined together in Holy Matrimony, ye are to declare it. This is the first time of asking.”
Phoebe held her breath. She almost expected to hear the church doors swing wide open to reveal the Duchess of Bentley ready to object to her fullest, or to witness some member of the congregation to stand, point at her accusingly, and declare her an adulterer before all gathered.
No such scene took place. There were no objections and the service continued to its natural end.
Afterward, she stood with her father in the parish grounds and confessed to him her nerves.
“Father, I can hardly believe the banns were read today. When Evan died, I believed my chance was lost and that I’d grow old alone. I couldn’t imagine that I would ever accept a proposal from anyone else. For who could take his place?”
Lord Wycliff squeezed her shoulder supportively. “My daughter, you would have received two dozen proposals by now if you had allowed it. Your grief has been so great that you’ve rejected all thought of marrying another for all this time. As your father, I shared the same fears that you would never marry. And who would support and care for you when I was gone?”
Guilt twisted in Phoebe’s stomach for she knew it was not grief that had seen her reject any proposition of seeking another suitor for all this time. In secret meetings, she had been pursued by Owen and had given in long ago.
“Thank the Lord for Lord Boltmon,” her father continued. “I respect him all the more for what he has done for this family and for you. He has always had love for you as a sister, and now he shall provide for you as his wife.”
“I am looking forward to the coming weeks where we might spend some time together before the marriage. I am sure we will talk of Lord Huxley often.”
“Perhaps it is time to lay Lord Huxley truly to rest, my dear,” her father replied. “You will be unable to open your heart to another while Lord Huxley still resides there. It may seem unfathomable now, but perhaps you might find you can love the Lord Boltmon in the way a wife does her husband in time.”
“It is unfathomable, Father. But perhaps we will find love in time.”
* * *
“Phoebe?”
&
nbsp; Miss Bennet entered the library to find Phoebe reading at the window sill.
“There you are,” she said. “I’ve been looking for you all over. The Duchess is here to see you.”
Phoebe winced. “The Duchess? Why ever is the Duchess here?”
“I would imagine to congratulate you on your engagement.”
“I am doubtful, Miss Bennet. She is wicked.”
“She isn’t wicked, My Lady. She is in mourning for having lost her son.”
“She was wicked before Evan died. If it wasn’t for the love I have for Owen, I would refuse this marriage on the basis of Lady Bentley alone. She will be the worst possible mother-in-law one could be burdened with.”
“It is too early for you to feel so vehement toward her, My Lady. Perhaps she has come to accept what will be. You’ve not spent a great deal of time with her. There is a chance you share more common ground than you imagine.”
“All I imagine is throwing her into a pit.”
“Lady Phoebe!”
Phoebe laughed. “Forgive me, Miss Bennet. I always speak too freely in your presence. I am too accustomed to your discretion.” She stood and kissed her on the cheek. “And I feel too strongly that you are already my mother. I have no need for the Duchess.”
“Oh, Lady Phoebe. I would never have imagined when I took this position that one day the child within my care would see me as a mother. How can I fail to keep your secrets when this is the bond we share?” She shook her head solemnly. “You make me forget my position. I am in the employment of your father.”
Phoebe embraced Miss Bennet playfully and rocked her side to side like a child. “When I marry Owen, you shall be in my employment, if you would so desire. Please say yes, Miss Bennet, for I couldn’t bear to be parted from you.”
“It would be an honor and a privilege, My Lady.”
“I suppose I must accept the Duchess’ visit, although I can think of no more tedious a chore.”
“Go, child. These things are never as bad as they seem.”
Compelled by duty, Phoebe went to the drawing room where Lady Bentley was waiting to receive her.
“Forgive me for keeping you waiting, Duchess,” she apologized. “I wasn’t expecting your visit.”
“In church this morning, the banns for your marriage were read.”
Phoebe contained the bright smile she wished to express, knowing their story was that she had dutifully accepted the proposal of a younger brother wishing to do right by his brother’s bride.
“Yes.”
“My husband and son made the decision not to prewarn me of this. You can imagine my shock when I heard of it for the first time amongst the congregation as if I were a stranger to my own family.”
“My Lady, I am truly sorry to hear this. I made the assumption all proper discussions had taken place within your household.”
“You assumed wrong.” The Duchess lowered herself into a seat and fixed Phoebe with a lethal glare. “As you have assumed wrongly that I will bless this union. I will not, and do not, condone this marriage.”
Phoebe sunk down into a seat opposite her. The Duchess’ face seemed even more severe than usual, her hair pulled back so tightly that it unnaturally widened her glassy eyes. They held the predatory gleam of a bird of prey.
“Again, I am sorry to hear this, My Lady but I’m afraid I don’t understand. Have I done something to offend you?”
“You are the type of lady who uses her natural beauty to take advantage of men. You accentuate your feminine weaknesses and use them to lure well-meaning gentlemen into your trap. You had my son Evan wrapped around your finger, and somehow you have also found yourself in favor with Owen and my husband. You have had your sights set on this family for some time and I in no way trust your motivations.”
“My intentions are pure. It was my father who informed me an offer of marriage had been made and I accepted. It was not through my own pursuit that this proposal was brought forth. It was Lord Boltmon who approached our house.”
“My son has never had any interest in courtship before now. He has been a happy bachelor, using his time to pursue his studies and assess his future options. How strange it seems that where no other lady has been able to strike his fancy, you have succeeded.”
“Lord Boltmon proposed because he cares for me as a sister.”
“One does not marry his sister.”
“He is honoring his brother by providing for me.”
“And you would gladly accept his provisions, would you not? You see in him a wealthy gentleman with a bright future. He will be a lawyer of fine standing, and you will happily let him take our dear Evan’s place.”
The Duchess raised a finger in Phoebe’s direction accusingly. “Others may think you are whiter than white but I am no fool. You hunger for one thing only: status. You are benefiting from the noble intentions of my son when you have no interest in him. It is cruel and greedy.”
“I am neither cruel nor greedy, My Lady. Lord Boltmon and I have shared a long-term friendship since childhood. The bond between the children of my household and yours was precisely the reason the arrangement between Lord Huxley and I was ever conceived. It was not planned as a marriage of love. How could it have been? We were both children.”
Phoebe shook her head in anger. “But now your expectation is that there should be a marriage of love? Forgive me, Duchess, but I believe your household stands to gain as much as mine from any union that might take hold.”
“How so?”
“The Earl and the Duke are equal partners in their enterprise. Each stands to gain the shares of the other through a marriage between their children, should one pass before the other.”
“It is my husband who is in poorer health though, is it not?”
“I do not pretend to know the health of your husband, Madam.”
The Duchess sneered. “You will break this engagement at once.”
“I certainly will not!”
“You have until the third banns are read. At this time, I will object, and I will say whatever must be said about you to ensure the minister refuses the marriage license.” She smiled smugly. “I am inclined to believe he will take the word of a Duchess over the daughter of an Earl.”
“If you had any love for your son you would do no such thing,” Phoebe retorted. “His is a grown gentleman, able to make his own decisions about whom he should take as a wife.”
“It is precisely because I love him that I will not allow some wealth-seeking harlot to sink her claws into him. You are a disgrace, and I will not allow your poison to take hold of my son.”
“I will not be calling off the engagement. We have the blessing of both our fathers. Forgive me for being blunt, but your blessing is entirely superfluous.”
The Duchess rose. “You have made an enemy of me today, Lady Phoebe. I pity you now.”
“The power you imagine you have resides in your mind entirely. You will not be able to stop this marriage.”
“We’ll see, Lady Phoebe. We’ll see.”
Chapter 21
Owen pushed all his weight against the oars and the boat slid gracefully through the water to the center of the secluded lake near Caddock Hill.
The skies above were clouded but he did not feel the threat of rain in the air, although it did carry the scent of damp upon it. It was humid and warm despite the clouds. His jacket was folded and placed beside him on the bench of the rowboat.
He’d imagined Phoebe would be thrilled to be upon the water with him but she’d been solemn and distant all day. When they reached the center of the lake, he brought the boat to a still and asked her what was on her mind.
“The Duchess paid me a visit yesterday.”
Owen grimaced. “Suffice to say she was not in the least pleased when the banns were read.”
“You and your father did not tell her of our plans in advance?”
“She harbors a deep resentment against your father, Phoebe. My father and I knew full well she would
cause a stir and the decision was made that it was best for us all if she knew as little as possible until proceedings were already underway. Now if she creates chaos, she must do so under the eyes of the whole borough.”
“Chaos is exactly what she will bring.” Phoebe dipped her hand in the water, letting it trickle through her fingers with a morose expression upon her face. “She has threatened to object when the third banns are read unless I break off the engagement prior.”
“She has threatened what?”
An Immoral Dilemma For The Scandalous Lady (Steamy Historical Romance) Page 18