by Scott, Tarah
“That'll be fine,” Phoebe said. “I’ll pour.”
The girl bobbed a curtsey, then backed out of the room.
Phoebe lifted the teapot and poured. “Sugar?” she asked.
“Lemon,” Elise replied, “no sugar.”
Phoebe complied, then handed the cup to her.
“Now,” the duchess said, “what were we talking about? Oh, yes, Kiernan not weaseling out of his responsibility.”
“Indeed,” Phoebe replied, pouring cream into her cup of tea.
The duchess sipped the tea, then replaced her cup on the saucer. “And we have arrived at the heart of the reason for my visit.” She smiled. “Aside from wanting to meet you, of course. I understand you aren't keen on marrying Kiernan.”
“Madam—”
“Please, Phoebe, don't call me ma’am, or madam. I despise the formality. You're going to be part of the family, and it’s bad luck for us to start off as if we intend to be anything but friends.” Her eyes twinkled. “Perhaps even allies? Therefore, call me Elise. Yes,” she went on, “when we're in public you must adhere to formalities, but here, in the privacy of your home, we don't need to act like strangers. Now, I'll be honest, I don't care for British formality. A woman can't go here, a woman can't do this. I can’t tell you how often my husband and I have disagreed over that foolishness. However, what happened with you and Kiernan goes beyond these petty constraints.”
Phoebe sighed. “Yes, though I'm loath to admit it, you're right.”
“Good.” The duchess took another sip of tea before saying, “You have decided to marry him, then?”
There was something in her manner that made it impossible to be anything but straightforward. “I'm beginning to wonder if I have any choice,” Phoebe said.
“Phoebe!” The duchess laughed in a hearty manner that would have made British nobility scowl. “You're an honest woman. I like that. Still, it’s not quite as bad as walking the plank. All men can be a trial, but Kiernan is a good man. To be frank, I had wondered what sort of woman would catch his eye.”
“I did not exactly catch his eye, ma-Elise.”
“Not in the usual sense, true, but he is enthusiastic about the marriage.” She halted, her expression turning speculative. “You don't really know anything about him, do you?”
Phoebe lifted her teacup to her lips. “No, I don't.” She took a sip of the tea.
“Well, the fun in your marriage will be getting to know him, but I'll tell you one thing, he doesn’t form attachments easily. Oh, there is the occasional infatuation,” Elise smiled broadly, “but nothing he doesn’t get over within a month or two.”
“I see.” Phoebe leveled her teacup on her lap. “So you and the duke had begun to despair of him marrying?”
Elise laughed again. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but his father hasn’t thought much about it."
“But how is that? He is no young man.”
The duchess’ expression softened. “His father and I didn't marry until he was forty. I was nearly thirty myself.”
“How long have you been married?”
“Nearly thirteen years.”
“Forgive me for saying so, ma-er, Elise, but I can't believe that.”
“So I’ve been told before,” she replied. “Though, I don’t mind hearing it again.” She set her tea on the table. “You realize, Kiernan isn't my son?”
“I knew the duke remarried.”
“Marcus married young, and Kiernan was born when he was twenty-one. Marrying you at thirty, Kiernan is ahead of Marcus' forty years. Don’t you think? Still, this isn’t what you had planned, is it?”
“In truth, no.”
“Pardon me for asking, but do you plan on marrying here, or in Scotland?”
Phoebe started. “I-I hadn't thought of it.”
“We have a wonderful home in Scotland. It is large—immense, actually—just the sort of place for a wedding. Before deciding, perhaps you would like to see it?”
“See it?”
“Yes.”
Scotland. Could it possibly be this easy? Why not? It was only fair that Kiernan MacGregor help her out of the mess he'd gotten her into.
“That is most kind of you, Elise.”
“Not at all,” she replied. “It's the least I can do. And if you decide you want to have the wedding there, you can leave the arrangements to me.”
The door opened and Lady Albery entered the room. Her gaze fell on the pair sitting on the sofa and she stopped.
“Phoebe,” she said, “you didn't tell me we had a guest.” Lady Albery crossed to the sofa and curtsied. “Your Grace,” she murmured, and rose. “Please forgive my niece for not informing me of your arrival.”
The duchess regarded her with an unconcerned air. “Don't trouble yourself, madam. I came to see your niece.”
“But of course.” Lady Albery sat in the chair nearest Phoebe. “You must have been most anxious to meet your future daughter-in-law.”
“Tea, Aunt?” Phoebe inquired.
“Yes,” she replied, “if you please,” then turned back to the duchess. “I hope you find London to your liking.”
“London is always to my liking,” she replied.
“Aunt.” Phoebe handed her the tea.
“Thank you, my dear.”
“Your niece and I were just discussing her visit to our estate in Scotland,” the duchess said. Phoebe caught the surprise on her aunt’s face. “We may go at your convenience, Phoebe,” Elise added.
“What is this?” Lady Albery asked. “You’ve only just returned to us, Phoebe, and already you're leaving?"
Phoebe paused in lifting the cup to her lips. What had her aunt cared one wit for her being at home?
"What about the wedding?" Lady Albery cried. "Surely, you can't consider a journey before your marriage. What will your husband think?”
Phoebe took the sip of tea, then set the cup on the table. “I have no husband yet, ma’am. Therefore, that isn't a consideration.”
“I am sure you would do well to consult Lord Ashlund before making any plans,” she insisted.
“I have informed Lord Ashlund that if I marry him, I will not be consulting him on anything. Why should I do so now?”
“Phoebe.” Lady Albery set her cup onto her saucer with such force, the china rang. "I am sure your uncle wouldn't approve of such a philosophy.”
“Forgive me, Aunt, but I suspect my uncle will be pleased if I simply make it to the altar.” Phoebe turned to Elise. “Forgive us, madam. As you may have guessed, there is some doubt as to the outcome of this affair.”
“Phoebe,” her aunt scolded. “Really.”
Phoebe ignored her and said to the duchess, “I warned the duke that I might not be the sort of wife he wants for his son, but he wouldn't listen. Having met me, you may feel the need to warn him. I would fully understand.”
The twinkle returned to the duchess' eyes. “Far be it from me to contradict my husband.”
Phoebe nodded politely. “You're the epitome of womanly virtue, ma’am.”
A look of comical horror crossed Elise’s face. “You probably shouldn't repeat that to my husband or Kiernan. Well, I believe I have overstayed my first visit.”
Lady Albery came to her feet. “No, indeed, Your Grace. You're welcome to stay as long as you like.”
Elise looked at Phoebe. “Decide when you would like to visit Ashlund. Though I’ve only just arrived, I will be glad to return.” She smiled. “My decision to come to London was a bit hurried, therefore, my children didn't accompany me.”
“I imagine you miss them.”
“Very much.” She rose and Phoebe followed suit as the duchess addressed Lady Albery. “Madam.”
“Your Grace.” Lady Albery curtsied.
Phoebe escorted the duchess to the door.
“If I might suggest, ma’am,” Phoebe said as she opened the door “Don't wait for me to return to Scotland.”
Elise stopped. “I assumed we would travel togethe
r.”
“Don't stay in London on my account. Return home and your children,” Phoebe said. “My uncle will see to my travel arrangements.”
“Phoebe," Lady Albery said, "surely it is wise for you to travel with the duchess.”
“It is neither wise, nor unwise,” Phoebe said. “I shall come to Scotland, Elise.” Lady Albery gasped, but Phoebe went on, “Only don't press me as to the time just yet. I promise it won't be long, within a fortnight, I think.”
“I can wait,” Elise said.
“I ask that you don't. If, by chance, I'm not ready within the allotted time, I don’t wish to have kept you from your children.”
The duchess smiled. “No matter your decision concerning where you will hold the wedding, you will stay for some time.”
Phoebe nodded. “I think I will.”
Elise lifted a brow. “You realize what will happen if you don’t come to Scotland?”
“I imagine,” Phoebe said, “there will be another abduction.”
*****
Phoebe picked up William Godwin's A Tale of the Sixteenth Century from the bookstore shelf and opened the book. After Elise left earlier that day, Lady Albery was all agog over her visit, and Phoebe had been forced to flee her aunt's company. The bookstore was her final stop on her list of errands, but she dreaded returning home where her aunt would likely ply her with more suggestions for her wedding. It was clear that Lady Albery disapproved of the wedding being held in Scotland.
“So,” came a familiar male voice, “I understand we are to return to Scotland?”
Phoebe whirled, knocking a stack of books from the store shelf. “By heavens, sir,” she exclaimed.
She started to reach for the scattered books, but halted, narrowly missing a collision with Kiernan’s head as he bent to pick up the books. He gathered them in one arm. Phoebe took a step back when he straightened, and tilted her head back in order to keep eye contact. He set the books on the shelf.
Her stomach did a somersault. “Are you going to make a habit of scaring the life out of me?"
Curiosity flickered in his eyes. “I can’t say," he replied. "Catching you unawares has its appeal." He smiled. “The blush on your cheeks is quite becoming.” She froze when he trailed a finger along her cheek. “What man wouldn't be gratified to incite such a reaction in a beautiful woman?”
Warmth pooled between her legs. Could he sense this reaction as easily as her blush? He took her free hand and lifted it to his lips, eyes locked with hers as he pressed his lips to the back of her hand. When he released her, she realized her heart was pounding…and that he had, indeed, sensed her desire.
“Have you any purchases you wish to make?” he asked.
Phoebe broke from the trance. “Yes, these two novels.”
He took the books she held and read out loud, “William Godwin, A Tale of the Sixteenth Century.” He looked at the other volume. “The Pickwick Papers by Charles Dickens. I'm not acquainted with this fellow.”
“He has only just published.” Phoebe took the books. “I heard he is quite good.”
“They will make fine reading during the trip to Ashlund.” Kiernan cupped her elbow and directed her toward the front of the shop. When they reached the counter, he plucked the books from her grasp. “Tate,” he addressed the man behind the counter, “please add these to my bill.”
“Sir.” She reached for the books, but Kiernan handed them to Tate, who began wrapping them in paper. “Ashlund, I don't need you to pay for my purchases.”
“Of course you don’t,” he replied. “But it's my pleasure to do so.” He smiled the same soft smile she had witnessed two nights ago at the Halsey soirée, and memory of his lips on hers caused her knees to weaken.
Tate offered the books to Kiernan, who seemed not to notice.
Phoebe reached for the books, but Kiernan captured her hand in his and took the books with his free hand. “Thank you, Tate.” Kiernan tucked the books under his arm, then maneuvered her past other shoppers and out the door.
“Have you a carriage?” he asked.
“I took a cab. It's chilly, but the day is so lovely, I planned on walking at least partway home.”
“A wonderful idea,” he said. “I'll accompany you.”
He grasped her hand and placed it in the crook of his arm. They started down the street, and the slight movement of his arm as they walked caused the muscle beneath her fingers to flex. She couldn't halt her gaze from snapping onto the hand covering hers. His long, tanned fingers enveloped her hand and she became aware of the warmth of his flesh.
“Have you decided upon a date for going to Ashlund?” he asked. "By carriage, it's four or five days. Really, you needn’t bother your uncle for a coach. We can travel in mine.”
This caught her attention. “I can't say when I'll go. It's likely, I will decide the day before I leave.”
“I require no more than an hour’s notice.” He directed her to the right of the walkway when another couple approached.
“Don't rely on me for notice,” she said.
He smiled genially. “I'll ask your uncle to inform me. I understand you'll be busy with the details of the journey.”
"My lord," she said in frustration, "I don't plan on traveling with you."
“Don't worry about imposing on me, Phoebe. I'm looking forward to spending time with you. You'll forgive me if I ride horseback most of the way, but we'll stop for refreshment at your pleasure and, of course, we'll have the evenings.”
Phoebe started. Was that a sultry note in his voice?
"Phoebe?"
She realized he was staring and could only think to say, “I don't plan on riding in your carriage—any carriage, for that matter—all the way to Scotland.”
He grinned. “Of course, I should have guessed. It's obvious you wouldn't enjoy the confines of a carriage for long.” He halted at the end of the lane and waited for a cab to pass before leading her across the street. “I have an Andalusian,” he went on like an excited school boy. “You must ride him.” Her astonishment must have shown on her face, for he added, "He's a gelding. You can handle him with ease. You will love him. He's a bay. The shading on his coat is magnificent and his presentation is spectacular.”
“Where did you get such a horse?” she asked.
“My father’s doing. A trader recommended the beast, and he had the horse imported from Spain. Do you know the breed?”
“I do, though I've never ridden one.” And she couldn’t deny a thrill at the prospect of riding such a fine animal.
Kiernan applied gentle pressure to her hand. “Now, you shall.”
He hailed a passing Hansom cab. The driver pulled up and Phoebe found herself handed up into the seat with Kiernan sliding in beside her.
“I'm not finished with my shopping,” she said.
His brow lifted in surprise, but she had the distinct impression he wasn't surprised. When he said, “It's growing late. You'll need rest before attending the Blakely soirée this evening,” she knew she was right.
“I'm not going.”
“Surely you don't want to miss the party?
She regarded him. “How did you know where to find me?”
“Your aunt, of course.”
“Of course.”
“I'll call for you this evening at ten," he said. "Perhaps your aunt would care to join us. It's beneficial that we're seen in public together and she's a perfect chaperone.”
“Beneficial for whom?” Phoebe asked.
“You did say a year's engagement,” he replied. "And I said I would court you in that year."
He'd said "…pursue you, court you and, lastly, seduce you” to be exact, and she had yet to decide on a firm course of action to avoid his suit while she investigated the information in Stafford's journal.
"I have been straightforward with you," he said.
“Really?" she replied. "You never mentioned that you obtained a special license.”
“I would be remiss not to be prepare
d.”
“May I see it?”
A corner of his mouth twitched. “Had I known you wished to see it, I would have brought it with me.”
“I would think you would keep it on your person at all times. You know,” she raised her brows, “in the interest of being prepared.”
“Quite right,” he said with more enthusiasm than she cared for. “I'll put it in my pocket the moment I return home. Shall I procure a change of horses for my carriage tonight?”
“If you like. That way you can ride onto Scotland early.”
“No,” he said. “I'll await your pleasure.”
“My pleasure, indeed.”
“What’s that you say?” he inquired in a polite tone that told her he had heard her.
“When we arrive to Scotland, will you take me about the countryside?” she asked.
He gave a genuine smile of pleasure. “Of course. Anywhere you like.”
“I wish to ride north. I've never been farther into Scotland than Brahan Seer. The castle is in the very south of the Highlands, isn’t it?”
“It is,” he replied.
“I would like to visit Kildonan parish, or even farther north to Ldderachylis.”
He showed no consternation at hearing that she wished to visit territory owned by the Duchess of Sutherland.
“Kildonan and Ldderachylis are some distance away,” he replied amiably. “Perhaps we should save that trip for after our marriage.” The cab came to a halt. Kiernan peered out the window. “We have arrived.” He opened the door and helped her from the carriage. He raised her hand to his lips. “Until tonight, my dear.”
“I make no promises.”
He caressed her cheek. “I'll be here at ten.”
He turned and his coat went taut over his broad shoulders as he grasped the door and vaulted back into the carriage. Phoebe didn't move, her legs once again weak as a kitten. He waved once, then leaned back and disappeared into the depths of the carriage. Phoebe released a breath and turned, but halted suddenly, whirling. She raised her hand to gain the rider’s attention, then dropped it back to her side when the carriage turned the corner.
“My books.” With a sigh, she started up the walkway to Shyerton hall.