by Wendy Vella
“I’m to meet someone not far from here, Finn, so I shall leave you and Alex and make my own way home,” Ben said as they walked outside.
Finn pushed thoughts of Phoebe aside and focused on the fact that he would now have Alex alone in the carriage.
“I wanted to talk with you alone, Alex, so I’m pleased Ben is not with us,” Finn said as the carriage pulled away from Will’s warehouse.
“Oh?”
“Yes.” Finn tried to stay calm when inside he was anything but. “Someone saw you leaving a gambling hell, and I want to know how long you’ve been gambling again.”
Alex’s eyes widened and color filled his cheeks.
“I’m not gambling, as I told you earlier.”
“You were seen leaving there, Alex. Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not lying, damn you! I told you I wasn’t gambling and I’m not!”
“Don’t raise your voice to me.” Finn’s was like the lash of a whip. “Someone I trust saw you leaving there, what other reason could you have to be there if you were not gambling?”
“Can you not just believe me when I say I was not there to gamble?”
He looked as if he was telling Finn the truth, yet how could that be as there was no other reason for him to be there?
“Alex,” Finn warned. “If you are in deep it is best to tell me now so I can help.”
Alex clenched his fists and drew in two deep breaths before speaking, and when he faced Finn again, he had a moment of doubt. His brother was angry, really angry, and it was very rare to see him that way.
“Alex—”
“No!” He sliced a hand through the air. “You listen to me, Finn. What I have told you is truth and as such you should believe me unconditionally, as I would were our roles reversed.”
“How am I supposed to believe you when you will offer no reason for what was seen?”
“Because I am your brother, Finn, and you should know that I would not lie to you over something this important.”
The silence between them was heavy as both struggled to find the right words.
“But you can’t, can you, Finn. You can’t or indeed won’t believe me, because you refuse to acknowledge that, like Ben, I am a man now, a man who can make the right choices.”
Before Finn could reply, Alex had opened the door and jumped from the carriage. Finn’s last site of him was the flash of lemon from his jacket lining, and then he was gone. He swore then, long and loud, and wondered when his life had turned on its head?
He wanted to blame Phoebe, but couldn’t; at least not for this. He blamed her for the constant hunger inside him when she was near, and blamed her for not being the woman he wanted her to be, but for this business between him and Alex, he could blame only himself.
CHAPTER TEN
Life for Phoebe became very busy over the next few weeks. Most evenings, she, Hannah and Alex were out late dancing and pretending to enjoy the social whirl. Their days were spent at the boutique or running errands for the boutique. They had hired a seamstress, designed dresses, refitted the entire premises and Phoebe had relished every step of the process.
Phoebe had managed to avoid Lord Levermarch as much as possible, but the few times she could not, she was polite and formal as was he. She’d watched him dance many times with Lady Croxley and Alex had told her that Finn had taken her driving in the park, much to his horror. Both he and Ben disliked the woman; however, neither knew how to dissuade Finn, yet knew they must try as it now appeared certain that he may offer for her. Of course Phoebe had known the viscount was thinking of doing this, and it should not bother her, as hadn’t she believed them perfectly suited? Yet it did bother her, and she thought that this was because it upset Alex and Ben so much. Well, that’s what she had convinced herself to believe, anyway.
“I think that mirror should go there, Alex,” Phoebe said from her position seated on a chair in the middle of the front room of their boutique. She and Alex were working in the front display area today.
“We have moved it three times, Phoebe.”
She laughed as Alex scowled. “But it must be placed perfectly, Alex, as you very well know.”
Alex, had found them not one but two French seamstresses. Genevieve and Jacqueline Allard were sisters, both middle-aged with an excellent grasp of English. It had been Jacqueline who had let it slip that they had, in fact, worked in a gambling hell, which had not worried either Hannah or Phoebe, especially as she had once been a highwayman. However Hannah, of course, had needed to test the women’s skills and immediately set them to designing and sewing a dress for her, which they had done in a surprisingly short amount of time. It had turned out to be exquisitely crafted with everyone concerned happy with the finished product.
“It’s like a sweets store in here, don’t you think, Alex,” Phoebe said, looking around the room. There was color everywhere. Shelves and cabinets displayed trims and buttons and fabrics. There were mirrors and toward the back behind a curtain, rooms for fitting.
Comfortable chairs sat in discreet areas for weary feet to rest. Phoebe thought it the most beautiful sight she had ever seen.
“I am saddened that we cannot be here for the opening next week; however, we will be able to see how the women of society react to your dresses at the Hathaway ball.”
“I’m nervous, Alex. What if they don’t like them?” Phoebe said the words that had been plaguing her for days.
“You could wear a sack and still create a sensation, Phoebe, but dressed in one of our designs you will likely cause a riot.”
Hannah was not here today, her father making her go with him to an engagement, and Phoebe missed her friend’s calming, no nonsense presence. However, she and Woolly insisted Phoebe attend the Royal Amphitheatre with them tonight, and as Will and Livvy had decided to stay in this evening, and Bella had a friend visiting, she had accepted.
“The Hathaway ball will be the perfect opportunity to present our dresses, Phoebe, you’ll see. Hannah, Olivia and you will be the most beautiful, well-dressed woman present,” Alex said.
“I will do us proud, Alex, I promise.”
She watched him lower the hammer he had in his hand and then walk to where she sat. His hands cupped her shoulders and stared down at her with the same intensity his older brother had.
“Why the nerves now, when you have been so confident?”
“There is so much riding on this. Will believes in me, Alex. I can’t fail. I could not bear it. We all have so much at stake.”
“We shall not fail, Phoebe, and do you know why?”
She shook her head.
“Because there are many self-centered, vain woman in London society, and we are going to appeal to every one of them by stroking their vanity.”
“How?” Phoebe questioned him. There was so much of Finn in him. Each day she saw something that made her heart skip as if the viscount was here in the room.
“Oh, Lady Podgy, this style would surely highlight your wonderful assets,” Alex said in a high feminine voice. “Miss Stodgy, you really must visit this delightful little boutique. When I was there, I saw the most charming shade of mud brown that would do marvelous things for your hair.”
Phoebe laughed as he wanted her to.
“I get the idea, Alex, thank you.”
He gave her quick hug.
“Have things improved between you and your brother, Alex?’
He had told Phoebe about his altercation with Finn, but she knew he had not shared everything that was said.
“There is a thawing. I passed him the butter this morning over breakfast and he thanked me.”
“Alex, this is not funny,” Phoebe warned. “I do not like the idea of you and your brother not being in harmony with each other.”
Even his smile was like Finn’s.
“The thing is, Phoebe, at the moment it is working in my favor having him a bit distant. I am here most days, or somewhere looking into something to do with this place, and he is not aware of
where I am or what I do.”
Phoebe watched as he chewed on his bottom lip, which she now knew he did when he was thinking.
“Although, I wouldn’t put it past him to have me followed, I make sure to lead a false trail if ever I’m coming here.”
“He would have you followed?” Phoebe was horrified at the notion.
He gave her a pitying look.
“This is Finn we are talking about, my dear. If he wants to find out something and a person is not forthcoming, he will find a way.”
“Good God.”
“Exactly.”
“And what of Ben? Have you told him anything?”
“Yes, he knows, and is not terribly concerned that his brother is now in the fashion industry. However, he wants me to keep an eye out for Miss Sutton, and give him any small pieces of information that would put him in her good graces.”
Phoebe laughed.
“And now you must away to prepare for your evening of entertainment and Ben and I will likely see you at the Royal Amphitheatre, as we are to attend, too.”
“It must have been a sudden decision as you never mentioned it when I told you we were going yesterday.” Phoebe watched Alex look away.
“We have been talking of attending for some time now.”
Phoebe had started to think that perhaps Alex had developed a tender for Hannah and to her mind, his sudden need to attend tonight’s performance confirmed that.
“How fortuitous that you decided to attend tonight, when I and the Wooller family will be there. Perhaps we could sit together?”
“Perhaps,” Alex said turning back to fuss with the mirror.
“Look, Phoebe, that man is standing on his horse’s back and playing a pipe!”
“But surely that is impossible, Bridgette. No one can do such a thing.” Leaning forward, Phoebe braced her hands beside the girls and looked down at the man galloping around the area.
“Phoebe!” Bridgette grabbed her hand as she squealed. “Did you see that?”
They were seated high above the ring so their vantage point was superior to many as Phoebe was sure Lord Wooller had intended, and the youngest Wooller was bubbling with excitement.
“I certainly did and to be honest, Bridgette, I fear my heart may give out.”
She was subjected to a wide blue-eyed look.
“But you must rally, Phoebe, for we are about to see a battle unfold. There will be horses and military men and I believe Papa said even a cannon. Is that not right, Papa?”
Lord Wooller sat at Bridgette’s rear, with Hannah to her left and Phoebe to her right.
“Indeed tis my understanding, infant,” Lord Wooller’s voice rumbled.
“There. You see, Phoebe? It must be so if papa says it.”
“Of course it must and I will rally, I promise you, for who can resist a battle.”
Phoebe had wanted to tell Bridgette about the riding achievements that Moses had taught her, but thought that perhaps Bridgette would demand to learn them also. She didn’t think Hannah or her father would appreciate that so she kept them quiet for now. She was a delightful child, full of the joys of life with a ready smile and equally ready scowl should it be required. The first thing that came into her head was uttered no matter what it was and her youthful naiveté was a soothing balm to Phoebe’s nerves.
In just a few days, they would attend the Hathaway ball and she hoped their dresses were noticed, prayed they were. Phoebe would have to smile and chat to people she usually avoided, or so Alex had told her. Be nice, he’d said. No insults or sarcasm.
“Perhaps Phoebe needs refreshment, Papa. Not for me, you understand, but to sustain her throughout the performance,” Bridgette said, interrupting Phoebe’s thoughts.
“Always thinking of others, Bridgette. It is most heartening to see,” Hannah drawled. “Perhaps then Papa could just get Phoebe a drink of something to liven her spirits.”
“Oh but, Hannah, it would not be fair on her to be the only one taking refreshment. She will feel awkward, won’t you, Phoebe?”
“Very awkward.”
“Well, that’s settled then,” Lord Wooller said, getting out of his seat. “And you, daughter, will stop making a game out of your little sister,” he added, sending Hannah a glare to which she poked out her tongue.
It really was a spectacular feast for one’s senses, the scene below. The ring was huge and horses were being lead into it along with men in military costumes and, yes, a cannon was also being dragged into place. Around them, the hum of voices only added to the excitement as guests gasped and clapped at the skilled display on show. Phoebe thought that if she had had to make her own way in the world, she would have chosen to join just such a production as this.
“Hannah, I think your father may need a hand. I shall just follow him and return shortly,” Phoebe said, climbing to her feet. She was restless and perhaps stretching her legs would see her ready to settle down for the battle scene. “It would not do for him to miss the show, Bridgette, by having to make two trips.”
There were still a few people out in the halls but Phoebe could see Lord Wooller, so she was not concerned about being alone and merely quickened her pace to catch him as he started to descend the stairs.
“Lord Wooller! If you will wait for me, please, I shall assist you,” Phoebe said as she reached the top. No sooner had the last word left her lips than she felt a hand in her back and then she was falling. Her arms flapped to keep upright and she thought she had managed it, but then she felt herself pitch forward. Her scream was loud as was the shout from Lord Wooller. She connected with something hard on her right shoulder and then another on the back of her head and then, mercifully, she stopped suddenly.
“Phoebe, good God, are you alright?”
Phoebe opened her eyes and looked into the faces of Ben and Alex. Both wore identical expressions of horror. One held her upper body the other her legs.
“Phoebe, you scared the life right out of me. Tell me where you hurt, girl.” Lord Wooller rasped.
“I’m alright, Woolly.” Her voice was weak and Phoebe suspected that was the lingering traces of fear. “Place my feet on the ground please, Ben, and Alex if you will just keep that arm around my shoulders until I can stand.”
“No, they can carry you up the stairs, Phoebe, and I will brook no arguments.”
Woolly bent to retrieve her bonnet as he directed Alex to carry her back up and into their box, and Phoebe was thankful for the privacy once they reached it. They had drawn quite a crowd of onlookers.
Hannah and Bridgette were stunned to see the little party troop in and leapt to her side once they realized that Phoebe was injured.
“What has happened?”
“Just a slight fall, Hannah. Nothing to worry about.”
“In this chair please, Ben, and Bridgette, you turn that one around so Phoebe can rest her legs on it,” Hannah quickly instructed. There was a general air of fussing until everyone was happy she was comfortable, and then Woolly was once again dispatched for something to fortify Phoebe when she assured everyone she had no intention of leaving before the battle.
“Where do you hurt, Phoebe?”
“I’m alright, Hannah, don’t fuss.” In fact, her head was throbbing as was her shoulder but she was sure they would settle soon. She was more concerned with the fact that someone had pushed her down the stairs and why. She had felt a hand on her back, hadn’t she?
“Can I do anything for you, Phoebe?” Bridgette’s worried face appeared beside her.
“What you can do for me, my dear, is watch the show and give me reports as I have no wish to miss anything,” Phoebe gave the little girl’s cheek a pat before she hurried back to her seat.
Alex stood beside her, looking pale.
“Christ, Phoebe, what happened?”
She waved his words away. “I was clumsy. Nothing more, Alex. Now, you and Ben go and keep Bridgette company whilst I take a few minutes to steady myself.
I’m so grateful to y
ou both for catching me as I’m sure I would not have made it to the bottom without breaking something.” Possibly her neck, Phoebe thought with a shudder. “I did not see you when I started down, only Lord Wooller.”
“We were coming up to visit with you all and then suddenly you were falling,” Ben said.
“We ran,” Alex took up the story. “As fast as we could up the steps and managed to catch you before you collided with Lord Wooller, otherwise you both would have tumbled down and onto the guests below.”
She saw so much of Finn in them that she was suddenly filled with longing for his big solid body, which was ridiculous as he had never been a comforting presence, to her in the least.
Hannah was standing behind Phoebe, and was now touching her head to see if there were any bumps.
“You’re not a clumsy person, Phoebe. How did you fall?”
“Oooh, Hannah, that hurts!”
“Yes, it is quite a lump but it seems to be the only one. I really think we must get you home.”
“Please, Hannah, let me just sit here for a few minutes and then when Bridgette has seen enough we will leave.”
“You haven’t answered my question, Phoebe.”
“I tripped on my skirts, Hannah.”
“The battle has begun!” Bridgette cried.
“Why don’t I believe you, Phoebe?”
The noise was deafening from below, gun fire and horses neighing accompanied by the shouts of military men as the battle sprang to life.
“You tripped on your skirts?” Hannah added, looking down at the hem of her dress that rose up slightly with a ruffled edging.
Phoebe nodded and then regretted the gesture as it made both her shoulder and head throb. Relieved to see Lord Wooller walk in the door, Phoebe sipped the wine he had brought her and listened as the twins and Bridgette gave her a full commentary of what was taking place below. She even managed a laugh or two.