She smiled sadly. “The cost of my attempt to save these foolhardy wretches is high, and pawnbrokers are accustomed to keeping secrets for those in the Polite World.”
“Being Lady Midnight is draining you in every way.”
She put her fingers to his lips. “Take care what you say, Galen.”
“Take care what you do, my dear.” He kissed her fingers. “A man can be tempted only so far.”
“Then you should not have come to my private rooms.” Her smile became more genuine.
“But how can I learn my capacity for temptation if I do not?”
Phoebe laughed. “You have a gift for nothing-sayings. No wonder, every lass in London nearly swooned when Lord Townsend spoke to her.”
“Egad, I hope you are exaggerating.” He lifted the necklace off the velvet. “For now, I would like to see how these look with your pretty gown.”
“You are being too kind.”
“Nonsense. I did not send Tate to Townsend Hall last night to retrieve these for me to wear. You are not the only one who considered that it would be all for the good to pretend that we had not rushed here from Town.”
Stepping behind her, Galen slipped the chain around her neck and secured the latch. The gold was cool against her skin, but his fingers stroking her nape were enticingly warm. Too enticingly warm, she realized when she went to the glass and clasped the earrings on her ears. She touched the twisting of gold and gems, and tears bubbled into her eyes.
“Why are you so sad, my dear, when you look so lovely?” Galen asked.
“My father bought a necklace much like this for my mother soon after they were married. The stones in it were emeralds.”
“And it is gone?”
She nodded. “It was one of the first pieces I sold.”
Galen stared at her, his mouth working. His fist struck the back of a chair. When she gasped, amazed at his reaction, he said, “Forgive me, Phoebe. I guess I am furious with myself for failing to see how much you have sacrificed.”
“This jewelry is lovely, and I would rather think of what is than what was. Thank you for letting me wear these pieces. I promise I shall be very careful with them tonight.” She chuckled. “And you need not worry about me taking them to a pawnbroker.”
“Do whatever you wish with them.” He smiled as he slipped an arm around her waist. He tapped an eardrop, then traced the angle of her cheek. “They are not a loan, Phoebe. They are a gift.”
She shook her head and stepped away to escape from the magic of his touch. “I could not accept such a gift.” She reached to undo the necklace.
“You must, Phoebe.” He caught her hands and drew them down as he gave her a wicked grin. “I shall not do you the favor of allowing you to return them unless you are willing to do me the very special favor of my choice.”
She arched a brow. “Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around? If I accept, I compromise myself?”
“It would please me for you to have them. Please wear them.”
She searched his face. He meant this. “Why?”
“You were not distressed when your bracelet was left behind at the inn. I could think of only two reasons. One was that you had so many baubles losing one did not matter. As that did not seem likely, I guessed the other reason must be the truth. Your jewels are paste.”
“This kindness is beyond anything I expected, Galen. I have created chaos in your life, and you have never complained.”
“I do believe I have complained.”
“Yes, once or twice.”
“Just once or twice?”
She laughed. “Once or twice a day.”
“That is more accurate. Just as it is accurate that these jewels needed you to bring them back to life.”
He tipped her chin up, steering her mouth to his. She combed her fingers up through his hair. Why was she resisting? She wanted his kisses and tantalizing caresses.
Before his lips could touch hers, a knock came at the outer door, and footsteps crossed the antechamber.
“Is there anything you need, Lady Phoebe? Would you—?” Mrs. Boyd froze in midstep. Her eyes narrowed and her voice became as severe as if she were disciplining a child. “My lord, what are you doing here?”
Galen bowed toward his housekeeper. “Do not shoot daggers at me, Mrs. Boyd. I assure you that I have not seduced Phoebe and certainly would not do so without her permission, which you need to have no concern about her giving.”
“Galen, please!” Phoebe gasped.
Mrs. Boyd crossed her arms over her full bosom. Her mouth was straight, but her eyes twinkled as Galen’s did. “My lord, Lady Phoebe will think you were raised with no manners whatsoever.”
Phoebe laughed. “I would never blame anyone but Galen for his behavior, Mrs. Boyd.”
“You are a wise woman.” Her smile broadened. “May I say, Lady Phoebe, that you look lovely?”
“After I have the chance to say that,” Galen replied before she could. “You do look lovely, Phoebe.”
“Thank you.” Phoebe knew she should be furious at him for acting so out of hand by coming to her room, but she could not be. His kindness warmed her heart, which she had kept so hidden from the pain of knowing she could not help all who deserved it that she had not trusted anyone with it. Now … She hesitated, for Galen had been right when he told her that she knew so little about him.
Mrs. Boyd stepped closer, and Phoebe thought the housekeeper was determined to keep her and Galen separated. Instead Mrs. Boyd peered at the necklace she was wearing.
“Mrs. Boyd,” Galen said quietly, “you are unsettling Phoebe.”
“She is wearing—”
“My gift to her.”
“A gift?” Bafflement lined Mrs. Boyd’s face.
“Do you think I would ask for them to be returned?” Galen laughed, but Phoebe heard an edge in his voice.
Mrs. Boyd cleared her throat, then said, “But, my lord, those are—”
“I know very well what those are, Mrs. Boyd. Please find Carr and inform him that we are on our way down to join him in greeting our guests.”
“Yes, my lord.” She went out, leaving the door open behind her.
Phoebe faced him. “How could you dress her down like that? She said nothing wrong.”
“You are right.”
“I am?” she asked, then smiled. “I did not expect you to agree so readily.”
Galen took her hand and raised to his lips. “You are the pattern-card of propriety, Phoebe. No one would guess what sport you indulge in when the rest of the ton is involved in its flirtations.”
“Galen! Please watch what you say.”
“I will among our guests.” He laughed. “I will apologize to Mrs. Boyd when we go downstairs. Now, I offer my apologies to you for my crude behavior.”
“I would be an ungrateful wretch if I remained angry after you have been so kind.”
“Kind is not what I wish to be.”
“No?” She knew she was courting danger as she reached up and pushed a recalcitrant lock of hair back from his eyes.
“No.” His finger glided along the chain of the necklace.
She did not dare to breathe, and she feared her heart would stop beating as his fingertip halted directly over the pendant that rested between her breasts. When his gaze held hers, she longed to give him the answer to the question she saw in his eyes.
She could not. Her life was not her own.
Something must have told him what she was thinking because he held out his arm to her. When she was about to put her hand on it, he took her fingers and drew her around to his other side.
“I will need you to help me guard my wounds from those who might be curious about how I could have done myself such injury by simply falling off my horse,” he said as he settled her fingers on his arm.
“I could do no less after you played my courageous champion.” This jesting was not easy when she wanted to speak of other things … when she wanted to speak of nothing at all as h
is lips stroked hers.
“Lady fair, your eager guests will soon await you.” He started to bow, then winced.
“You must take care.”
“As you must. I know how important this evening is to turn any suspicion away from you.”
“If we make a mistake …” She closed her eyes and sighed.
He tipped her chin toward him. Opening her eyes, she looked up into his. “We shall not make a mistake, my dear, other than the ones we have already made.”
As Phoebe went with him out into the corridor and down the steps toward the large room where they would welcome their guests, she knew she should give voice to the question taunting her. She could not. She did not want to know if he meant nothing more than the mistake he had made of giving her the wrong alias or the greater one she was making of falling in love with him.
Ten
“You look worried,” Galen said as he came down to where Phoebe had been welcoming their guests to the brightly lit parlor. “You need have no fears. With Mrs. Boyd and Vogel vying to make everything perfect, you can rest assured that the staff will be beyond reproach.”
Phoebe smiled. “I hope you are right.”
“I almost always am.” He offered his arm as he led her across the room.
Walking around one of the score of chairs and settees scattered throughout the large chamber, she chuckled. “Now that sounds like the Lord Townsend of rumor.” She sat on a dark green settee and glanced around the room where their guests were speaking as if they had not seen each other in weeks.
All the brasses, from the window latches to the andirons, glistened from a recent polish. No dust ruined the patterns on the rugs on the stone floor. Lamps hung from the high rafters and reflected off the diamond-shaped mullions in the large windows.
Sitting beside her, Galen smiled. “‘The Lord Townsend of rumor’? That sounds most disagreeable.”
“Unquestionably most disagreeable.”
“Yet, here you are with that most disagreeable of men.”
“So you are saying the rumors are, in fact, the truth?”
He laughed. “I doubt there has never been a rumor that did not have some hint of truth in it … somewhere and no matter how twisted by repetition.” His fingers slipped along her cheek. “If rumor spoke of how much I wished to meet a lady who matches wits with me and delights me with her pretty lips, then that rumor has more than a hint of truth in it.”
“You are trying to charm me.”
“And not succeeding if you can see through my ploy.”
Regret pinched Phoebe. “A ploy? Is that all this means to you?”
Galen cursed under his breath as Vogel, whose face suggested he never smiled, announced another guest. By Jove! How had his compliment, his most sincere compliment, to Phoebe been turned about to be thrown into his face?
Setting himself on his feet to follow her to where she was greeting Lord Windham and his pretty brunette wife, Nerissa, Galen winced. Blast this stupid wound! He had known that the price of playing the hero could be high, but it was now simply bothersome.
“Windham,” he said with all the gusto he could bring forth, “I thought you were coming to Town for this Season.”
The viscount glanced at his wife and smiled. “We decided it would be more prudent to remain close to home for the next few months.”
Galen offered his congratulations on his wife’s quickening to Windham, but hoped the conversation did not turn to heirs and the other obligations of a peer. His brother had harangued him about that today, asking Galen why he was wasting time with Lady Phoebe Brackenton. In Carr’s opinion, she was a hopeless puritan who was more interested in her quiet evenings at home than in finding a husband.
He hoped his smile would not waver. Carr had been exasperating all day, which showed that Phoebe had the good sense to occupy herself elsewhere. Instead of staying to join the gathering tonight, Carr had wanted to go to a house not far from the Pump Room.
Galen had fought not to lose his temper as he said, “Carr, you can delay your call on Sandra for another night.”
“I miss that fine woman when I am in Town.”
“Do you?”
“I have sought her match through every corner of London, but I fear I have failed to meet another like her.”
Tossing back his wine, Galen had set himself on his feet. “I do believe you have sought in every corner of London.”
“Do not be such a prude, Galen. A man’s time of freedom is short, so he would be a widgeon not to take advantage of all that is there for him to take advantage of.” Carr leaned back in the chair and folded his hands under his head. “And Sandra is one of the things I do enjoy taking advantage of most.” Sitting straighter, he laughed. “Join me, Galen. She would have a lass who would appeal to your taste.”
“No doubt.”
“Then bring along a gold coin or two and let’s have an adventure that will bring you far more pleasure than this dreary assembly Lady Phoebe has devised for tonight.”
“No thank you.”
Carr’s eyes had narrowed as he spat an oath. “She has offered you a ride to Bath, brother. Nothing more. You need not think you owe her a duty when you have repaid her tenfold by welcoming her to stay here in Woods’s house.”
Galen did not recall what he replied, but it had sent his brother up to the boughs. His hope that Carr would set aside his disappointment and be waiting here when their guests arrived had been for naught.
When Phoebe spoke his name in a tone that suggested she had taken note of how his thoughts had wandered, Galen paid attention to what Windham and his wife were saying.
“Galen,” Phoebe said, turning to a short man whose wife was nearly a hand’s breadth taller, “this is Barry Lyttle and his wife, Matilda. Mr. and Mrs. Lyttle, our host, Lord Townsend.”
It took every iota of the manners drilled into him for Galen to keep his smile a polite one as he greeted Mr. and Mrs. Lyttle. He doubted if any name had been more appropriate, for even though Mrs. Lyttle was taller than her husband, she was still the shortest woman in the room.
His urge to smile vanished when he found himself in a challenging discussion of the latest decisions to come out of Whitehall. Mr. Lyttle might be diminutive, but his brain obviously outdistanced his stature.
Phoebe watched Galen’s eyes widen in amazement when Mr. Lyttle outlined his opinion on the shipping regulations that were under discussion in the Commons. Galen would quickly discover that Mr. Lyttle read every word in the newspapers he had delivered from every major city in England.
When Mrs. Lyttle tugged on Phoebe’s arm, Phoebe went to stand with her by the double doors. Mrs. Lyttle opened her fan and laughed. “You should have given Lord Townsend fair warning of Mr. Lyttle’s delight in having a new set of ears to air his vocabulary to.”
“Now, Mrs. Lyttle,” Phoebe replied, glad to be sharing an old joke when nothing else in her life remained the same as it had been when she had first met the Lyttles seven years ago. “You know Mr. Lyttle is not just talking for the sake of talking.”
Mrs. Lyttle laughed with an enthusiasm that was impossible to ignore. “No, he would relish getting into a deep discussion with anyone who is ready to debate with him. I suspect he has found a mind as honed as his in Lord Townsend. Or it may be that Lord Townsend is too polite to tell Mr. Lyttle that he has no interest in the subjects that intrigue my husband.”
“I collect it is the former.”
She was not sure if Mrs. Lyttle heard her because Mrs. Lyttle added, “I was so pleased to hear you had decided to pay Bath a visit.” Her bright blue eyes crinkled with her smile. “You should have let us know before this that you were here.”
Phoebe laughed lightly. “I fear that I needed some time to recuperate from the journey down from London.”
“It is a long trip.” Mrs. Lyttle waved her fan and laughed. “Mr. Lyttle tries often to persuade me to go to Town, because he would like to be closer to Parliament. He would like to express his opinions in
the ears of any minister who could not elude him quickly enough. I fear I would miss the camaraderie of our small group of friends here in Bath. The excitement of the Season is not enough to convince me to leave Bath.” She put her hand on Phoebe’s arm. “But I thought you would allow Mr. Lyttle and me to be your hosts when you visited here.”
“Galen believed he owed me a duty for offering him a way to continue his trip when his carriage was damaged.” Phoebe loathed the bitter taste of the lies. Somehow, before all of this erupted into such a bumble-bath, she had managed to live her dual lives without speaking too many lies. Now, every phrase she spoke seemed to be laced with falsehoods.
Phoebe pushed aside her uneasy thoughts as Galen introduced her to more of his friends who were in attendance. As the guests took their chairs to begin playing whist before dinner was served, she noticed how he glanced again and again at the doors to the terrace and the corridor. She said nothing, for she knew he was looking for his brother. Speaking of Mr. Townsend’s absence now might cause Galen embarrassment.
She realized she was pacing about the room like a caged animal, but she could not sit and play cards. She tried to sit once or twice. It was impossible, and she was grateful when Lord Windham and his wife coming in from the terrace gave her the excuse to rise and go to them. She had not noticed them leaving. How rusty her skills as a hostess had become since she had begun her quest to save the almost innocent!
“I am fine,” Lady Windham said, although her voice was faint and her cheeks an unhealthy shade of gray. “The room seemed a bit close, so I thought I would be wise to get some fresh air.”
“If you would like, I—”
“You need do nothing.” Lady Windham’s smile returned. “These odd sensations pass as quickly as they come. I am fine, and I am looking forward to playing cards. Do not worry on my behalf. Hamilton is doing that enough for all of us.”
Lord Windham chuckled. “Have pity on the poor father-to-be who has nothing to do but worry.”
Phoebe gestured toward a settee. “There is a place if you feel lightheaded and have the need to sit.”
“I think I shall be fine,” he replied.
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