Potent Charms

by Peggy Waide

  Hildegard snapped the closed fan across her daughter's palm. "If I wish your interference, I will ask for it."

  Color swamped Charity's cheeks and her eyes clouded with tears. "I am not a child any longer, and I am sick to death of your bitterness. It's obvious you failed in whatever it is you tried to do. Let Phoebe find a bit of happiness. Mercy knows, there are so few people who ever do."

  "Never. When no one comes sniffing with an offer, she will gladly accept Lemmer's suit or be cast to the streets. He will have his title and I will occupy Marsden Manor."

  Any compassion Phoebe might have had vanished. "I never realized how much you hated my mother and obviously me. She was kind and generous with qualities you'll never understand. Grandfather loved her and you never forgave him."

  "He never gave me a chance," Hildegard spat.

  "I wonder. I think you've been angry for so long, you no longer recognize the truth." Suddenly exhausted by the emotional upheaval of the night, Phoebe clasped her hands in front of her. "I have ten days left to find a match, after which you will never have to claim me as relative again. Until then, leave me alone. I will not marry Sir Lemmer or any man you push in my direction." She turned to Charity. "Are you coming?"

  Nodding, Charity joined Phoebe. They left Hildegard sputtering in the corner, wrapped in her own disbelief, rage and frustration. Neither cared any longer.

  "Which do you prefer?"

  Phoebe smiled as Lord Tewksbury extended a garland of pink and white wildflowers and a halo of bluebells toward her. They were shopping at the fair. She gave both equal consideration, then tipped her head to the side and studied his face. "I think either would match your complexion, although the bluebells accent your eyes quite nicely."

  He laughed easily, a warm rumbling sound from deep in his chest. It was a nice change, thought Phoebe, since Stephen seemed more inclined to grumble most of the time. She remembered Stephen's devilish grin, the twinkle in his eye as he told the stories of his childhood, and she knew she lied to herself. Those dark, brooding eyes, probing questions and penetrating gazes haunted her still.

  "I meant for you, Miss Rafferty, and well you know it."

  "In that case, I think the bluebells."

  He balanced the wreath of flowers on her head. "Lovely."

  "Thank you." Uncomfortable with the praise she knew he sincerely meant, she crossed to the next cart and toyed with a lace scarf. She sensed his gaze as he studied her from behind and fought the urge to straighten her spine. She had no reason to question the man's behavior. He had been nothing less than a perfect gentleman all morning. In fact, if she stopped worrying about Stephen, she might even enjoy herself. Determined to enjoy the sunshine, the laughter and the excitement of the festivities surrounding her, even the company of her companion, she smiled brightly and whirled about. "We've talked about me all morning, Lord Tewksbury. I insist you tell me about yourself."

  "What do you wish to know?"

  "Whatever you wish to tell me."

  "I imagine you know I've been married before." Walking beside Phoebe, he locked his hands behind his back, his eyes focused on the ground. "Miriam died three years ago. I also have a daughter, Meredith. Her nickname is Bliss. She is seven, and she bowls through life without a care, heedless of danger. I love her to distraction, yet fear I shall age beyond my time much sooner than my due."

  "I confess we met the night of your party. She's delightful."

  He looked thoughtful. "Yes, I suspected you would appreciate her disposition."

  "In a world run predominately by men for men, I believe a young girl had best reach and grasp whatever she can while she can." When Tewksbury abruptly stopped, she glanced to the brightly woven shawls folded over a wooden rack, then back to his face. She searched his eyes for any sign of anger or reproach and found none. "That must sound horribly insensible and single-minded."

  "Does malice control the whim?"

  "No. Only the desire that women should have a say in their own lives."

  Grasping her hand, he draped it across his forearm, and they continued to stroll through the merchants hawking their wares. "Considering what I know about your circumstance, I certainly understand why you might feel that way."

  Passing a silversmith, Tewksbury bought a silver rose pendant for his daughter. They circled a juggler tossing four colored balls in the air as he whistled a jolly tune.

  She stopped them for a moment to buy a purple length of ribbon for Charity, who remained a captive of Hildegard's at Payley Park. All the while, they shared stories and bits and pieces of their lives with each other. In fact, it surprised Phoebe just how easy it was to talk with Lord Tewksbury. Eventually they moved to the shade of a large elm, where they sat to share a berry pie and wine they purchased from a shopkeeper.

  Phoebe sat with her legs tucked beneath her dress on the blanket Lord Tewksbury retrieved from the carriage. He leaned against the rock a good foot from her with one leg bent, his arm casually draped across his knee. She nibbled on the pie and waited. It seemed Lord Tewksbury had something on his mind.

  "Miss Rafferty, I know no subtle way to say this. You need a husband. I want a wife. I realize we hardly know one another, but time is of the essence. I would like to take this next week to determine our possible suitability."

  She watched him through lowered lashes. He was certainly a handsome man. Likeable, jovial, although a tad reserved. However, she felt no tingling in her limbs, no rapid beating of her heart, no ache in the pit of her stomach. But neither was she repulsed or annoyed by his company. They seemed to share a comfortable ease and he did offer her the solution she needed.

  She waited for a surge of joy or even relief. Instead, she felt frightened and confused. She wanted Stephen, dreamed of hearing those same words from him.

  "I imagine any number of British ladies would vie for your attentions. Why me?"

  Deftly twirling a thin reed in his slender fingers, he kept his gaze locked on the stem as if the answers to her question lay therein. "For one, I find you attractive. A plus, I think, for a husband and wife. I believe you to be honest, forthright and kind. You seem to be intelligent, therefore our time spent together would not be lost to vapid conversations. In truth, I like you."

  "That's all well and good, but unless you have to...I mean.. .why would you be willing to marry me without knowing whether or not we" she finally blurted out the question foremost on her mind "I don't love you and you don't love me. Why would you marry under such circumstances?"

  "I deeply loved Miriam. When she died, I struggled for a goodly time. I miss her still."

  "Again, I ask. Why marry?"

  "To be truthful, I prefer not to lose my heart again. I do not want the soul-searing love I experienced with my first wife. I need an heir and Bliss needs a mother. I think you would suit perfectly. I ask you, does that sound insensible and single-minded?"

  "No. Merely honest." Her fingers toyed with a loose string on the cuff of her jacket. "Since you witnessed that little scene with Stephen last night, you surely must realize where my heart lies. And yet you are willing to court me?"

  "Stephen must chose his own path. I will not ask you to dismiss him at this point, only that you give my offer consideration and when the time comes to make a decision you tell me the truth."

  The money owed Stephen for repairs to Marsden Manor stuck in her throat like a chicken bone. Tewksbury needed to know the entire situation before any decision was made. "There is one last thing. My estate was in need of funds. I borrowed two thousand pounds from Lord Badrick."

  His gaze followed the activity of a juggler entertaining a group of children. "Miss Rafferty," he said, his manner offhand. "Money is of little importance. If you and I come to some sort of agreement, I shall settle the matter with Badrick."

  His offer was too generous by far. Knowing she might not ever receive such a proposal from Stephen, she would be foolish to refuse Lord Tewksbury's request. "Then, I guess, kind sir, my answer would have to be yes." />
  "You going to prune that bush or hack it to pieces?" Nanny Dee asked as she wiped her forehead with the back of her hand.

  Witnessing the carnage at her feet, Phoebe winced. Leaves and stems lay strewn about her feet, wilted petals witness to the massacre. A red rose, the lone survivor of the attack, swayed in the gentle breeze as if in surrender. Hildegard's favorite bush now resembled a one-armed scarecrow.

  It was no small wonder, thought Phoebe. She was a jumble of nerves. She had been since her return from Payley Park, when Lord Tewksbury had begun to court her. Stephen remained conspicuously absent. "I don't know why I'm behaving like such a ninny."

  Dee arched one black brow. Her hands kept busy weeding a small patch of violets.

  "All right, I do know," Phoebe said. "But it's so silly. I should be overcome with joy. Lord Tewksbury is everything I sought in a husband when I came to England. He's gentle and kind and seems devoted to me." She started to snip at a nearby bush, realized her intent and quickly lay the pruning shears on the stone bench beside her. The plants deserved no further abuse. She stood and paced back and forth on the pebbled path. "He's intelligent, appreciates the fact I can cipher and read, and he wants children as I do. I'll never want for anything."

  "Who you trying to convince, child?"

  Unable to ignore Dee's directness, or the feelings in her own heart, Phoebe dropped to the bench. With her shoulders slumped, she rested her elbow on her knee, her hand tucked beneath her chin. "If I accept Stephen's offer I'd have his protection, but for how long? I've lived with uncertainty all my life. However can I knowingly enter the same situation again? Is it so wrong to want a home and children?"

  "You already know the answer to that, child."

  "I called Stephen a coward. I'm a coward as well. Even if I could get beyond the uncertainty of my future with him, I don't think my pride could abide the whispering behind my back, the stares or the pity. I experienced enough of that back home." Thinking of Stephen, she ripped a small daisy from a nearby patch and shredded it in her hands. "Why on earth did I have to meet the likes of Stephen Badrick, anyway?"

  Dee sat back on her heels and sighed. "Some men are like a stone wall. It takes a whole lot of rocks to build. Some of those rocks might be stacked year after year. Once it's done, it takes a heap of strength to move or destroy that wall. Some men can, some men can't."

  "I'm not sure I understand."

  "Your past is what you are today. It takes more strength to change a lifetime of action than most people think. It's more comfortable to do what we know. And changing even if we're unhappy is mighty hard."

  Nanny Dee held up her hand and continued. "If n you decide to choose to be Lord Badrick's mistress, that pride of yours will see you through, but you make dam sure you can live with yourself. There won't be any going back, and there's no guarantee of how long he'll stay or how long you'll love. Life ain't like that. You just gotta make your choice and believe that you're in God's pocket."

  Pulling the worn pair of gloves from her hands, Dee pushed herself to her feet. She lifted a callused palm to Phoebe's cheek and smiled with tenderness. "I loved you and raised you since the day you was born, teaching you as best I could. I know it's hard to think clearly right now, but look beyond today and tomorrow. I think you'll find your answers. I'll be inside if n you need me. Don't dally too long, you got that museum party later."

  In that moment, sitting there alone, Phoebe understood what Dee meant. Because of his past, Stephen feared his future. She was no different. The instability of her childhood influenced her own decisions. More importantly, she knew her wants had shifted without her even knowing it.

  Her original plan had seemed so clear to her when she arrived in England. But Stephen had awakened all sorts of unexpected stirrings. Suddenly, she wanted someone to love and return her love.

  But, if that wasn't possible, she'd accept the next best thing, a ring, a wedding, a husband, a son or daughter and a home.

  "By Queen Mary's crown," Elizabeth muttered impatiently. "You stare at her when she's not staring at you and she stares at you when you're not staring at her. You are behaving like dunderheaded fool. Tell me what happened."

  Although he wasn't truly concentrating on the artifacts before him, Stephen kept his eyes fixed on the marble frieze lest Elizabeth think he was actually listening to what she had to say. Once he uttered one word, a single syllable, Elizabeth would probe and wheedle like the worst of busybodies until the entire story unfolded.

  Having accompanied her and Winston to this special exhibition of the Greek marble from the Parthenon, he wished he had lingered at home in his self-induced isolation. He never would have come had he thought for a moment that Phoebe might be here. And she wasn't alone. Lord Tewksbury served as her escort. Foolish or not, refusing to allow Phoebe Rafferty one whit of satisfaction by revealing the extent of his annoyance, he swore to ignore the woman. In fact, he'd ignore both women.

  "Stephen," said Elizabeth, using that patronizing I'mnot-finished tone of voice. "Since Winston's party, when you so rudely and unexpectedly departed a day early without so much as a by-your-leave, you have hidden yourself away. Now you and Phoebe seem to barely abide one another's company. And what did you do to Sir Lemmer? The doctor said he'd broken a rib and his nose. Something happened and I want to know what."

  Since Winston seemed content to let his wife badger him, Stephen remained stoically silent. He would gawk at this highly prized collection of Lord Elgin's, offer an opinion or two of his own, then leave at the first possible opportunity. He watched Tewksbury place a guiding hand on Phoebe's elbow; the man spoke far too closely to her ear to be at all proper. Her carefree laugh carried above the din of conversation in the already ridiculously crowded museum gallery.

  Not just carefree, thought Stephen, her laughter was downright cheerful. A red haze flashed before his eyes. Knots the size of small cannonballs formed in his stomach He clenched his hands at his sides. What right did she have to be so bloody feckless while he stewed in a foul temper-as he had for the four days since he'd lain with her?

  Good heavens, the thought of doing so again and again seemed to consume every moment of his day, sleeping or waking. And she had declared her affection for him, yet she appeared here with another man. No wonder he was irritable.

  Elizabeth stepped directly in front of Winston, who concentrated on the marble slab nearby. It was decorated with maidens carrying sacrificial vessels. "Don't just stand there. Do something."

  "What precisely do you suggest, darling? That I whisk Stephen and Phoebe away from here, confine them in a room at our home and summon the vicar?"

  "Is someone to marry?" Rhys asked as he joined the small group. "If it is one of my friends, I hope I receive an invitation."

  Stephen grabbed the opportunity to change topics like a lifeline in a stormy sea. "Rhys. What the devil are you doing here?"

  "My life as a wanderer is officially over."

  "It's about bloody time you claimed your title."

  "I had little choice. I could not allow my scoundrel cousin to inherit. Didn't Winston tell you?"

  Grumbling a moment or two, Stephen admitted, "I've been unavailable lately."

  "You've been hiding," Elizabeth added.

  "I've been forced to hide from interfering females who refuse to allow a man a moment's peace."

  Rhys crossed his arms. "It seems there is a story here, if someone would like to tell me. I have a peculiar feeling it involves the redhead I saw on the arm of Tewksbury."

  "Perhaps you," Elizabeth explained, "can convince this befogged imbecile that he is making a horrendous error in judgment; that the best thing we could do since he seems determined to ruin his one chance at happiness is hire a vicar and force him to marry Phoebe. She is a perfect match even if he is too stubborn to realize it. If we rely on him, he'll ruin everything. And what of an heir? He needs children of his own."

  "Unlike you, darling," Winston interjected, "not everyone is thrilled with
the thought of tiny creatures underfoot. It is his life and he is a man full grown, capable of making his own decisions, foolish or not. Whether he wishes to marry or not, continue the line or not, it is his choice. Not yours. Not mine."

  "Besides," Rhys added. "The man's as stubborn as a tick on a hound's ear. I doubt you could force him to do anything he chose not to. I failed once myself."

  If one more person called him a fool or such, he might have to hit them. They had taken to discussing him as if he weren't there. Feeling like a stallion on the auction block at Tattersall's, Stephen cleared his throat. He cast a baleful glare at Elizabeth. "Would you like to examine my feet, or perhaps my hindquarters?" He curled his lips. "How about my teeth?"

  "He speaks," Elizabeth said, slapping her hand against her cheek and widening her eyes in mock surprise.

  "I was waiting for a notable topic. None seem to be forthcoming. Until then I shall ply my attentions elsewhere. Understood?"

  Elizabeth showed no sign of retreat. She was becoming as single-minded as Phoebe. Showing her his shoulder once again, Stephen asked Winston, "What do you think of Lord Elgin's coup? I wonder if Napoleon ever regretted not purchasing them for France?"

  "Probably not," Winston eagerly said, obviously content to change topics. "What do you think, Rhys?"

  "Granted, they are rather old, but I certainly do not see them as a great investment. Someone said the government paid Elgin less cash than he extended for the retrieval of the marbles from the bottom of the ocean."

  "Perhaps, ,tis why some people have called them Elgin's folly," added Stephen. "But alas, Elgin shall have his name immortalized along with the stones."

  Elizabeth once again marched in front of all three men. "Enough. This idle chatter will not alter my course. I want to know what you intend to do about Phoebe."

  None of them acknowledged her demand. Suddenly her expression shifted. Self-declared victory shone in her eyes. If Stephen hadn't known better, he would have sworn she knew something he didn't.