A Wife Worth Investing In

by Marguerite Kaye

  ‘I would normally have taken the reins myself,’ he said, sitting down beside her, ‘but since this is my first outing in some time, I decided discretion was the better part of valour.’ Owen nodded to the coachman to drive on. ‘I thought we’d take a drive along the river, and if the rain holds off, round Richmond Park. Seeing the city from the outskirts gives you a better sense of it, and the air is a lot fresher.’

  ‘I miss the countryside, though I love the excitement of the city—not that I know any city save Paris, mind you.’

  ‘You’ll get to know London soon enough.’

  ‘Don’t you miss enjoying what it has to offer, Owen?,’ Phoebe asked impulsively. ‘Owen?’

  He blinked, and her heart contracted, for he looked for a moment utterly lost. The enormity of what he was doing struck her afresh. The last thing he’d want would be for her to draw attention to the strain it was putting him under. ‘I had a letter from Eloise this morning,’ she said. ‘I think there were more exclamation marks than words. To say that my news came as an enormous surprise is something of an understatement.’

  She was rewarded with a faint smile. ‘I hope a not-altogether-unpleasant surprise?’

  ‘It appears Alexander, her husband, seems to have put in a good word for you. “A most enterprising and well-respected investor” was how he described you to my sister, though how he knows that, I’ve no idea.’

  ‘I have a certain reputation in the financial world,’ Owen replied.

  ‘I didn’t realise. I thought—oh, it doesn’t matter, I know nothing of such things.’

  ‘You thought that because I see no one, no one is aware of my success? My success speaks for itself, unfortunately—I am a “name” in the city.’

  ‘Do people seek your advice, then?’

  ‘Often, and offer to pay me handsomely for it, but the whole point of the game I play is risk, a question of odds. I can easily afford to lose. Others can’t.’

  ‘But you don’t lose.’

  ‘Not often, but I have done, quite spectacularly too.’

  ‘Really? But then why don’t you stop, keep what you have safe?’

  Owen shrugged. ‘Because I enjoy the game.’

  ‘Something for which I am extremely grateful, though I hope I won’t be one of your spectacular failures.’

  ‘I wish that you’d have a bit more faith in yourself. Stop looking over your shoulder at what happened in Paris. I thought you were determined to prove Solignac wrong?’

  ‘And my sisters too. Though I didn’t tell Eloise about my plans. I’m afraid I allowed her to think that we had fallen in love. She’s so besotted herself, to be honest, I think that even if I had told her the truth she’d have persuaded herself that we fell in love at first sight but—well anyway, I thought I’d better let you know.’

  ‘Why? Is she planning to visit?’

  ‘Oh, goodness, no.’ Phoebe beamed. ‘I quite forgot, Eloise is expecting a baby. I’m going to be an aunt! I think I forgot because I can’t quite believe it. She never wished for children, but I think she has revised her opinion given that piece of news garnered the most exclamations marks in her letter. So she won’t be coming to London any time soon, though she has invited us to visit her in Lancashire.’

  ‘When will you tell her about the restaurant?’

  ‘When there is something to tell.’

  ‘Fair enough. And has Estelle replied to your letter?’

  ‘Briefly, to offer her congratulations. I can’t tell whether or not she meant it.’

  ‘Did you tell her the truth about the terms of our marriage?’

  Phoebe shook her head. ‘I will when the time is right.’

  ‘Are you fretting about her?’

  Phoebe considered this. ‘I don’t like being on bad terms with her but we will resolve our differences. We always do. Anyway, she’s probably enjoying being on her own. Being a twin is lovely, but it can be quite suffocating, you know? No, how could you. I can’t imagine being without my sisters.’

  ‘Even though they suffocate you?’ Owen teased.

  Phoebe shook her head. ‘It’s not exactly that, but they are over-protective. No one knows you as well as a sister. They know all your foibles, they remember all the embarrassing moments one endures while growing up. And when you have a twin especially, they know your thoughts, sometimes, even before you have a chance to voice them.’

  ‘Your dinner conversations were conducted in silence, then?’

  ‘Our dinner conversations were a noisy rabble! Living in a house with three very opinionated women—well, it was a case of she who shouts the loudest.’

  ‘And I’m willing to bet that your voice was often the quietest. It’s obvious that you hold your aunt and your sisters in a great deal of awe.’

  ‘Respect,’ she corrected him, frowning. ‘And rightly so. Aunt Kate took the three of us in when she was the same age as I am now.’

  ‘I had no idea. I imagined someone much older.’

  Phoebe giggled. ‘If you meet her—when you meet her—you’ll be astonished. She is extremely pretty and she’s quite petite, one of those women you think would struggle to lift her fork to eat, until she turns those eyes on you, and you realise there’s a core of steel running right through her. She and Eloise are very alike. My eldest sister was forced to grow up far too quickly—I’m afraid Mama was not a very maternal kind of mother.’

  ‘People who are determined to enjoy life to the full, as I remember you said your mother did, tend to be rather selfish creatures, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Mama was not selfish! Although that is what Eloise believes.’

  Owen held up his hands. ‘I only meant—’

  ‘There are some people who simply break the mould,’ Phoebe interrupted him, glowering. ‘One shouldn’t judge them by conventional standards.’

  Clearly not, he thought, taken aback by her vehemence. ‘The little I recall of my own mother,’ he said, in an effort to mollify her, ‘leads me to believe she wasn’t particularly maternal either. I remember being brought down from the nursery to be cooed over before dinner, and when I was at school, she would occasionally accompany my father to sports days. “All that mud, and sweaty, smelly little boys,”’ Owen mimicked. ‘She was very beautiful, and as I recall, delighted when those sweaty, smelly little boys gazed upon her as if she was an angel descended from heaven to the playing fields of Eton.’

  To his relief, Phoebe relaxed. ‘How proud you must have been when she did visit you. All the other boys must have been so envious.’

  Owen, who recalled simply being mortified, shrugged.

  ‘What age were you when you lost her?’

  ‘Ten, I think, perhaps nine.’

  ‘As young as that? Oh, Owen, you must have been devastated.’

  Once again he shrugged. She was drawing parallels that did not exist but he didn’t want to disillusion her with the truth. ‘I was away at school. It’s not the done thing to be upset at school, one must take it like a man.’

  ‘Our little brother, Diarmuid, was on his way to Eton with my parents when their boat sank in a storm in the Irish sea, and we lost all three of them.’

  ‘All at once! That’s dreadful. You must have been devastated.’

  ‘We all were, though Eloise as usual put a brave face on. That’s when Aunt Kate took us in. I don’t like to remember those days. We felt as if our world was turned upside down.’

  ‘It was. Poor Phoebe.’

  ‘And poor Estelle and Eloise too. But we had each other, and Aunt Kate too. And though no one could ever replace Mama, even I can see that Aunt Kate gave us a much more stable home. And a happy one too.’

  ‘The Elmswood Coven?’

  Phoebe laughed. ‘You remember.’ Her smile became whimsical. ‘Only to think that my little brother was headed for the same school you attende
d—though your time wouldn’t have overlapped, for Diarmuid was four years younger than Estelle and I. Mama didn’t want him to go, but Papa said it would be the making of him. Diarmuid was adorable, but he was terribly spoilt and dreadfully lazy, which I don’t think would have been in his favour at school.’

  ‘They do rate brawn considerably higher than brain. I was fortunate enough to excel at all sports.’

  * * *

  Owen, Phoebe thought, would have been popular however good or bad he was at sports, a charismatic little boy, just like the man he had become. And an athlete. Jasper had told her so, but she’d not realised how much a part of Owen’s life it had been. No wonder his accident had brought him so low.

  ‘So your brother was the favourite, I gather?’

  Phoebe started, wondering if her thoughts had been written on her face, as they so often were. Owen did not like anyone to feel sorry for him. ‘Diarmuid,’ she said, trying to recall the thread of their conversation. ‘Yes, indeed. The only son, and much longed for. I think they had all but given up hope, and I do know Mama dreaded having another girl. I remember her telling us so.’

  ‘How very thoughtful of her.’

  ‘Oh, she didn’t mean to be unkind,’ Phoebe said. ‘But children are not good for a woman’s figure, she said, and Mama’s figure was—she was quite simply the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. When she entered a room, she drew everyone’s attention—you simply couldn’t take your eyes off her. She was the toast of Dublin, and would have been the toast of London too, if Papa had taken her there.’

  ‘But Papa was rightly cautious.’

  Phoebe frowned at his tone. ‘It wasn’t Mama’s fault that she was so beautiful, or that so many people sought her attention. That was why she had so little time for us girls—there simply wasn’t enough of her to satisfy everyone.’

  ‘And she chose to satisfy herself. No, don’t leap to her defence, Phoebe, my mother was the same, content to hand me into the care of my nurse or my tutor or my school.’

  ‘Well then, you do understand,’ Phoebe said, though she didn’t really think he did, any more than Eloise understood their mother. ‘Though actually,’ she felt obliged to add in defence of her eldest sister, ‘it was mostly Eloise who took care of us. We lived in the wilds of the Irish countryside. Our constantly changing governesses didn’t much enjoy the isolation.’

  ‘Any more than your mother did, I presume.’

  She shrugged uncomfortably. ‘Anyway, that is how Eloise comes to be such a strong person.’

  ‘With a dominant voice at the dinner table?’

  ‘Exactly.’ She smiled at him, relieved.

  ‘And Estelle too?’

  ‘Estelle is the family comic. She is so funny, Owen, she used to have us in fits of laughter. She could easily take the London stage by storm, if she does not choose to lead an orchestra instead.’

  ‘Which leaves Phoebe to be the quiet one—or are you the peacemaker?’

  ‘No, I simply make sure the rest of them are well fed. They are very appreciative, I assure you.’

  ‘But they think you are overreaching yourself in wishing to make a career of it?’

  ‘What if they’re right? They think I need protecting.’

  ‘And in doing so they inadvertently stifle you,’ Owen said. ‘You don’t need protecting. If you did, you’d have run to Eloise, instead of which...’

  ‘I ran to you.’

  ‘You asked me to help you to help yourself. There’s a big difference.’

  Phoebe considered this. It sounded very feasible. ‘Perhaps.’

  ‘Definitely,’ Owen said firmly. ‘You’re perfectly capable of standing on your own two feet, and of springing back from adversity.’

  She smiled. ‘I like that. I shall spring up from the depths of failure and surprise them all with my success, like a jack-in-the-box.’

  ‘A very beautiful jack-in-the-box.’

  ‘Oh. Thank you. I’m nowhere near as lovely as Mama though.’

  ‘I won’t argue with you because it would be futile.’

  ‘Well it would.’ Which sounded rather defensive, Phoebe realised, even though it was true. ‘I’ve talked far too much, and likely bored you to death. You’ll have to learn to do what my sisters do, and talk over me.’

  ‘I happen to enjoy your conversation. I happen to find you interesting. All that complicated sibling rivalry, to an only child, is fascinating.’

  ‘It’s not rivalry. You don’t understand.’

  ‘Oh, I rather think I do, but we won’t argue. Tell me, has your aunt added her congratulations to those of your sisters’? We’ve been married nearly a week, we really should put a notice in the press.’

  ‘I haven’t heard directly from Aunt Kate. Eloise told me that she was away somewhere on urgent business. I can’t imagine where, Aunt Kate never goes anywhere. But anyway—if you must tell the world, then you can safely do so now.’

  ‘I must. I doubt the world will be much interested, but Olivia is eager to have the announcement made, according to Jasper.’

  ‘He’s spoken to Miss Braidwood? And how is she?’

  ‘As I hoped, quietly relieved. She will make a belated formal debut next Season.’

  ‘And her parents?’

  ‘Owen shrugged. Their congratulations read like condolences, but frankly I’ve never given much of a damn about what they thought.’

  They were crossing the Thames, and Owen turned to look out at the river. One of his hands still covered hers. Phoebe wondered if he had forgotten, and decided not to draw attention to the fact. What was he thinking? How did it feel, to be out in the open air like this after—how long? He had admitted at dinner one night that his ‘disconnection’ from the world, as he called it, had been a gradual thing, not a sudden decision. Why? she longed to ask him. Why had he lost his appetite for life? And what had killed it? It didn’t take a genius to work out that his accident had involved a fire. He certainly displayed an unnatural wariness of it, for every fire in the town house was screened and meagre. To have come so close to losing everything, she thought, should surely have made him more determined to embrace life rather than abdicate from it. She couldn’t understand it, but she did know that this trip he was making for her, with her, marked a significant step forward. And she also knew better than to say so.

  So she held his hand, and she inched a little closer to him on the seat of the barouche, and she watched his profile, trying not to let him see that she was watching him, and at some point her concern for him and her gratitude and her admiration for his courage changed into awareness of him. Of the length of his leg against hers. Of his booted foot against hers. And of his hands, covering hers.

  The clouds had scudded away on the breeze, leaving a sky that was bright blue, and a weak sun that was almost lemon in colour. As they turned into Richmond Park, a small herd of grazing deer lifted their heads to watch them pass, a stag, two fully-grown hinds and four youngers, gazing haughtily and quite unafraid. Russet leaves still clung tenaciously to the trees. The air was sharp as she inhaled the fresh grassy scent of the countryside. Phoebe lifted her face, closing her eyes, suddenly, for the first time in an age, relaxed and content. Opening them again, she found Owen gazing down at her, and smiled. ‘This is so lovely,’ she said.

  ‘It is,’ he agreed, raising his free hand to smooth back a curl which had escaped from her bonnet and clung to her cheek. The brush of his fingers on her skin, even in his gloves, sent a frisson shivering down her spine. She smoothed her cheek into his hand, turning her face so that her lips brushed his palm. She heard the sharp intake of his breath. Saw the flare of awareness in his eyes. Then the barouche drew to a halt, and the coachman turned to enquire which direction they should take home, and Owen dropped her hand. The moment was gone, over so quickly Phoebe persuaded herself that she had imagined it.

  *
* *

  The weather turned wet and miserable over the next few weeks as November settled in. The announcement of their nuptials had brought a surprising number of letters and cards of invitation, considering that most of London society would have retired to the country by now. Owen, reading names he had confined to his past, did what he always did with such communications and left them unanswered. Beside him at the breakfast table, Phoebe was sipping her tea and frowning over the latest sheaf of commercial properties available for lease which his lawyer had sent for their consideration. There had been three trips over the last ten days in the town coach to visit a selection of them, but she had been surprisingly unenthusiastic about all of them.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Owen asked. ‘Don’t you like any of these?’

  ‘They all have merit.’

  ‘But?’

  ‘There are too many unanswered questions to be able to make a decision. I don’t know what would be the best location because I don’t know who the clientele will be. I don’t know how big it should be because I don’t know how many covers I’ll be serving. I don’t know what I want the interior to look like. I don’t know—I don’t know anything,’ she finished, her lip trembling. ‘I think you’ve made a big mistake.’

  Owen pushed aside his coffee and his empty plate to reach over for her hand. ‘It’s not like you to sound so defeatist.’

  ‘I’m not. Only a little. You’ve found all these properties and personally taken me to view them. Don’t think I don’t know what an effort that has been for you, and I feel dreadful, Owen, offering so little in return.’