“Let me see.”
“It will only upset you.”
“I have a right to know what kind of family I am marrying into.”
Reluctantly, he handed her the letter he unfolded from his pocket. As Phoebe scanned the page, her rage intensified.
Lord Wycliffe,
As well you know, I am profoundly against the marriage of your daughter to my son. It seems to me you are a vulgar and greedy gentleman who was born under a threepenny halfpenny planet, never to be worth a groat.
I cannot fathom why you have conceived such a union but to profit from the success of the Duke, whose talents you cannot match. You know without his wisdom and fortune, your daughter will become the Covent Garden nun. It is in her nature.
If you allow this marriage to proceed, I vow that your daughter will suffer for it. She may benefit from some protections from my husband while he is living, but I am many years younger and will outlive him by a decade or more. Those ten years will be miserable for her.
Think carefully about the path you want your uncomely offspring to follow.
Lady Bentley
Phoebe felt sick upon finishing the letter. “I have not heard obscenities such as these from even the foulest seamen nor beggars on the street. To call me a Covent Garden nun! A prostitute!”
“I couldn’t believe the words I was reading either. It seems the Duchess has lost her mind.”
“Does the Duke know you have received this?”
“I have questioned whether I should tell him.”
“Why ever would you keep it from him? He should know what terrible doings his wife undertakes when his back is turned.”
“I fear for how colossal the resulting impacts would be. The Duke is a good gentleman who does not deserve to be troubled with such things.”
“Do you still want me to marry his son?”
Her father rubbed his temple with a weary expression. “You are so well-loved by the Duke and his two sons. There is still no family I trust to care for you better. I see no reason why you should have to share an abode with this vile creature and what harm could she do from a distance.”
“What of her threats for after the Duke has passed?”
“Empty and idle. Lord Boltmon and Lord Huxley would never allow it. She has no power which is why she creates such bluster.”
“She drew Miss Bennet away from our household simply to rid me of her as my wedding approaches, knowing I have no mother of my own! She told her that her brother had died. That is cruelty at its most profound.”
“Ignore her, Phoebe. She is threatened by your beauty and your youth. She has a troubled marriage with the Duke and it pains her to see him look upon you with affection when he has none for her.”
“Will I always then be victim to her envy?”
“You would gladly be victim to all her terror if it were Owen’s hand instead.”
Phoebe fell quiet for her father was right. She would face the Duchess every day for all her living years if it meant keeping Owen with her.
“She is a wicked, terrible person.”
“Yes. But the others in her household are some of the warmest and most kind. You can confide in the Duke. He will always protect you. He will shield you from the worst of her torments.”
“Father, I feel as if my whole world is crumbling beneath me.” She sat on the floor by his legs, curling her legs up beneath her and resting her head upon his lap like she had used to when she was a young lady, but not in many, many years. “I feel it is no secret how much I love Lord Boltmon; every person I confess it to tells me how evident it had already been to them so I trust you knew just as well.”
“I do.”
“I will lose him when I marry Lord Huxley. Shortly thereafter, I will lose you too. I will be left to battle with the Duchess forevermore. It fills me with dread.”
Her father gently laid his hand upon her head. “Lord Boltmon will never be lost to you. He will always be waiting a step behind, ready to fight for you, protect you, and provide for you, whomever you might marry or wherever you might go. As for me, I cannot live forever. There will come a time where you must say goodbye, as all children must do when their parents grow old.”
Phoebe wept. “I’m not ready to say goodbye. I still need you.”
“That is why I am working so hard to ensure there are others you can rely on. This is why I am entrusting you to the care of Lord Huxley and his father.”
He sighed deeply. “As for Lady Bentley…I have never met such a repulsive person in my life, but I doubt she will be any match for your sweetness. She will not poison you, my sweet girl. You will rise above and be all the more loved for it.”
* * *
Lady Ann stood beside her as Phoebe lifted the lid from the box that had just arrived from Paris, France.
“Lord Huxley ordered this for me. He said the lady he spoke to told him it was the most fashionable wedding gown one could buy. It was stitched by hand by Parisian artisans and made from the finest lace. There are no fewer than one hundred pearls upon it.”
“Oh, I cannot wait any longer. I must see!”
Phoebe laid the lid down on the bed and lifted the gown from its box. It was the most elegant of dresses, ivory with a long train and the most ornate and elaborate lace patterns Phoebe had ever seen. There were pearls aplenty, making the gown appear both lavish and dignified all at once.
“Oh, my goodness!” Lady Ann gasped in delight. “It is the most beautiful gown I’ve ever seen. Mine had not a shred of lace nor a single pearl upon it.”
“But you looked so beautiful.”
Three months prior, Phoebe had attended Lady Ann’s wedding ceremony. She had married Lord Langborough, decades her senior.
Phoebe had wondered how love could exist between two with so many years between them but when she had watched them exchange their vows, the love was so palpable that the church felt warm with it.
Now it was her turn.
“Put it on,” Lady Ann encouraged. “I know you’re going to be breathtaking.”
She disappeared behind a changing screen in the corner of her bedroom to put the dress on, having to call Lady Ann for help to squeeze her into the tight bodice and lace it up.
When all was done, Phoebe stepped out from behind the screen to examine herself in the mirror. She looked every bit a bride— breathtaking, as Lady Ann had said.
Her waist appeared slim but her bosom full. The ivory contrasted against the soft peach of her pallor, so she looked angelic. Her dark hair against the pale colors made it seem rich and vibrant. She looked beautiful.
Yet she did not look at her reflection and smile. Rather, she threw herself upon her bed and cried.
“Phoebe! Whatever is the matter? You look incredible.”
Phoebe sat up, her face tear-stained and blotched. “It is not the dress.”
“It is the groom.”
“You understand.”
“Of course I do. I know you don’t want to marry Lord Huxley. You have always been meant for Lord Boltmon, and he meant for you.”
“May I confess something to you that must never pass your lips to another human soul as long as you might live?”
“You have my word it will go no further.”
“We almost eloped when Lord Huxley first returned.” She bowed her head in shame. “We took a carriage out of Wycliffe and were going to go North when I realized I could not betray and abandon my father like that and we turned back.”
“Oh, Phoebe…” Lady Ann let out a long breath. “That is both the most romantic and most tragic thing I’ve ever heard. And now you are engaged to Lord Huxley and to be married in four days.”
“If fate were to intervene, it would have been successful before now. Heavens knows that Lady Bentley has done her best to ensure we never make it to the church.” She listed off on her fingers the lengths the Duchess had gone to. “She burned the invitations, she canceled the order for my first gown from London. She dismissed three cooks whose
dishes we had loved, and the priest sent word he had been threatened. My father had to convince him it was an imposter who had sent the note or else he would never have agreed to the wedding.”
“Did you not encourage any of her antics?” Lady Ann asked. “Perhaps it would have bought you time before marrying Lord Huxley.”
“I considered it,” Phoebe confessed. “But it would have been in vain. She’s have done the same again if ever I tried to marry Lord Boltmon. She has nothing but hatred in her heart for me.”
She dried her eyes and swiftly changed the subject of conversation. “I have a dress for you also.”
“For me?”
“Of course. You are my bridesmaid. Lord Huxley ordered this from Paris also.”
“From Paris?” Her eyes widened in wonder. “I’ve never worn anything from France before.”
“You will look lovely.”
Lady Ann opened the second box to find a simple but beautiful white dress with a periwinkle bow and straw bonnet within. She gasped in delight. “Oh, how beautiful! My thanks to the Lord Huxley.”
“It is his pleasure. In fact, every arrangement has been his pleasure. He has organized the most divine banquet including chocolates that will be made especially for our guests, and music from a string quartet. He has scheduled three of each service and kept all details secret from the Duchess so that she has as little opportunity as possible to interfere.”
“It is unusual for the gentlemen to become so engaged with the planning of a wedding.”
“I was also surprised, but I suppose my own enthusiasm was lacking somewhat. He has taken everything upon himself to organize and it is set to be a glorious wedding.”
“And what of Lord Boltmon?”
“It is a tense situation, as you can imagine.”
“Is it over between you?” Her expression darkened. “I do not condone infidelity, Phoebe—not for one moment—yet the romantic in me believes that for you to deny Lord Boltmon is to reject a design put in place by someone or something far greater than we mere mortals can comprehend.”
“If we were destined to be, then why has fate toyed with us so much and so often?”
“The greatest romances are always plagued with obstacles. You know a love is true when it overcomes them all.”
Chapter 30
The eve of the wedding Phoebe felt sick to her stomach. She had not eaten all day and was faint with worry. She felt as if she could cry at the drop of a pin and did her best to distance herself from the household—her father, especially—so they should not see her despair.
Her spirits were lifted somewhat only when she heard the soft sound of a familiar knock on her bedroom door.
“Lady Phoebe?”
She rushed to open it and threw her arms around Miss Bennet before she’d even entered the room. “I didn’t think you were going to make it.”
“I promised I would be at your wedding, sweet child, and so I will be.”
She stepped into the room and put down her bag, sitting on the edge of the mattress and patting the space beside her to invite Phoebe to sit. Phoebe closed the door behind them and joined her.
“How was your visit in Windermere?” Phoebe asked.
“Very strange.” Miss Bennet laughed. “But then again, it was wonderful. To believe Edward was gone and to find him alive has made me appreciate him all the more. I shall no longer take him for granted. We have vowed to keep up correspondence. I will be writing weekly.”
“That is good to hear. I am so sorry that I was the cause of such upset.”
“You? My dear, only Lady Bentley is to blame for such a vicious attempt to manipulate. It was a cruel trick but all is well. I had not taken leave in many years and I was overdue some time with family. I feel rested and relieved.”
“I was furious.” Phoebe felt her skin pinkening at the memory of her anger. “For all the Duchess has done to shock and repulse me, I believe that letter was the most repugnant of all.”
Miss Bennet patted her hand kindly. “She has not succeeded. Tomorrow, you will become Lady Huxley, Marchioness.”
“I feel great shame that if my own wishes were to come true it would be at the expense of the contentment of so many others. My father would be bereft and Lord Huxley would be alone again, after years stranded in the Philippines surrounded by strangers. Yet I cannot desire anything other than that which I have always dreamed—to be with Lord Boltmon.”
“My Lady, you are fully grown now. I have watched over you from a child into the warm and intelligent lady you have become. As an adult, I will speak to you in a way I never would have when you were young. Not as your governess, but as your friend, let me tell you this—my love and support for you is unconditional.”
“Thank you, Miss Bennet. I know.”
Miss Bennet widened her eyes meaningfully. “I mean, My Lady, it is unconditional. Say, should I come to prepare you in the morning and found your bed empty and you disappeared…say nobody could find Lord Boltmon either…while others might spit on your name, I would love you still. I would do all I could for you still.”
Phoebe’s heart swelled with affection for Miss Bennet who had always been her guide and confidante. Even now, she was telling Phoebe what no other would tell her—that if she followed her heart, she would not lose her love.
“I’ve thought about it, Miss Bennet. I won’t lie. But every time I consider leaving this place with Lord Boltmon, I feel a guilt that makes my legs heavy. I think of my poor father and sweet Lord Huxley who has always been so devoted and kind. I know I could not leave them all bereft. My happiness is not worth the sorrow of those I hold dear.”
“And what of Lord Boltmon and his sorrow?”
“I will weep for us both every day of my life, Miss Bennet. It is a pain that will never leave me.”
Chapter 31
Phoebe was the most beautiful thing Owen had ever seen as she walked up the aisle in her wedding gown. Even with the tears that hung suspended in her eyes, she was breathtaking, like a weeping angel.
The Earl walked beside her, proudly beaming at everyone he passed until he saw the Duchess in the front pew and scowled at her. Despite all her scheming, the hour of the ceremony was upon them.
The night before, Evan had confessed to Owen that he had hired two servants to watch the Duchess day and night, which is how he had got ahead of all her dastardly plans to interrupt the wedding. He’d told Owen that the same servants were watching the Duchess during the ceremony, ready to create a distraction if she should appear to be ready to interrupt.
So there were no more obstacles ahead. Evan and Phoebe would wed today.
The church was overflowing with bouquets of flowers in an unusual display of opulence. Wedding ceremonies were usually simple affairs, but Evan had found a way to make every simple aspect something extraordinary. The church was filled with the scent of lavender and white roses, and the sweetness carried in the air.
The priest stood at the head of the church to the right of Evan and Owen. Lady Ann and Miss Bennet had already taken their places at the head of the aisle, and Phoebe was almost there.
When she came to stand before Evan, she was close enough for Evan to see how forcefully the tears were pouring from her eyes. He had to close his own to avoid seeing her in such pain, as it caused an agony of his own that was too great for him to bear.
When all were in place, the priest—an elderly gentleman with snow-white hair and a well-worn copy of the bible—began the ceremony.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this Congregation, to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony, which is an honorable estate, instituted of God in the time of man's innocence, signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his Church, which holy estate Christ adorned and beautified with his presence—”
Evan interrupted him. “Forgive me, dear Priest, but I have somewhat of an unusual request. You see, I have written my own vows to preced
e the solemnization of matrimony. May I deliver them?”
The priest was disturbed by the change but allowed it. Evan then turned to Phoebe and began.
“My dearest Phoebe—in recent weeks, I have contemplated at length the nature of love. I have come to define it as follows: Love is the reunion of two souls that knew each other before time began. It is when usual affections and sacrifices become unconditional and profound. When one would kill or die for another without hesitation nor regret, he is in love.
“The nature of love is also significant in its power to crush all other virtues beneath it. Duty becomes but a dull and meaningless word when pronounced next to love.”
An Immoral Dilemma For The Scandalous Lady (Steamy Historical Romance) Page 26