Phoebe smiled sadly. “Nonetheless, it is true. I have become a recluse. I appreciate your confidence that I would have been welcome everywhere, but I do not share it. Do you not remember all the scandalous things people were saying after Stephen’s death? I doubt you have any idea the number of people who gave me the cut direct after all that.”
Lucy set aside her tea and rose from her chair to come to Phoebe. She took Phoebe’s hand between hers and looked earnestly into her eyes. “Phoebe Brodfield, have you no idea how short a memory the ton is subject to? You missed the entire Season after Stephen’s death, when the scandal was fresh in their minds. By the time this year’s Season began, all sorts of new scandals had occurred to take up their attention.”
Lucy gave Phoebe’s hand a little pat and released it, moving to the tea table to pass the plate of cakes.
“You may be right,” Phoebe replied, sighing, “but I cannot help feeling that it is partly because I stayed out of sight. You know, out of sight, out of mind? I am afraid that will not continue to be the case, however. I am very grateful, despite the heat, that it is August and that most people are gone from Town.”
“Heavens, Phoebe. Whatever do you mean?”
Phoebe took a deep breath. “The Earl of Devenham is staying with us while he recuperates from his war wounds. If it is not already common knowledge, I am sure that it will be soon. I am afraid there is no way the rest of us will escape being noticed.”
“But Phoebe,” exclaimed Lucy, turning around to study her, “that is famous! What a wonderful way to reemerge on the scene! You cannot have planned to hide forever. The Earl of Devenham, imagine!”
“I don’t know that it is so wonderful, Lucy. He has a scandalous reputation. And I have most definitely put myself on the shelf. I had no desire to ‘reemerge on the scene.’”
Lucy sat down again across from Phoebe. “My dear,” she said, “forgive me for phrasing it so bluntly, but I thought Stephen was the one who was buried, not you. You must allow me to help you start circulating again.” She lowered her voice then and said, “Now, tell me all about Lord Devenham.”
***
The earl himself was fretful and bored in Phoebe’s absence. After listening to Mullins’s halting attempts to read him the day’s news, he had snatched the paper from the poor fellow’s hands and spent some time reading it for himself, thanks to the brand-new pair of spectacles Mullins had succeeded in procuring for him over the course of the past few days.
He soon wearied of this occupation, however, and set the precious spectacles back on the table beside him with a sigh. “Perhaps I will take a nap, Mullins. I am sick to death of being incapacitated. If I am not allowed out of this room soon, I think I shall go mad. At least there might be some entertainment value in that.”
Mullins obligingly rose to his feet, but as he did, Devenham heard giggles outside his door. “I believe we have company,” he said, grinning at the prospect of young visitors. Here was entertainment likely to at least approach the pleasure he got from Phoebe’s company. He motioned Mullins toward the door with a quick nod.
All four of the older children stood outside in the hallway. They looked hopefully at Mullins and entered eagerly, if a bit shyly, at the earl’s invitation.
Devenham studied them with interest, well aware that he was being studied in return. It seemed a fair exchange. He tried to recall the children’s names, from the little information he had extracted from their aunt. She generally continued to rebuff his attempts to learn something of her life here.
Dorrie was the only girl, he recalled, except for a baby who ruled over the quite separate domain of the nursery. Dorrie was the eldest and the tallest, already showing signs of becoming pretty like her mother and her aunt, with glossy dark curls framing her young face. He could not remember the names of the middle two brothers, who were only a little apart in size. The taller one had brown hair almost as dark as his sister’s, and the other’s hair was a lighter brown, as if the sun had faded the color and warmed it at the same time. The smallest boy’s hair was touched with red, and a sprinkling of freckles decorated his nose.
Clearly taking the earl into his confidence, William was the first to speak, with his typically engaging candor. “I don’t think Aunt Phoebe wants us to be in here,” he whispered, standing on tiptoe to reach the earl’s ear.
“Indeed?” chuckled Devenham, making a mental note to add this restriction to his list of complaints. “Then, I propose we just don’t tell her. Agreed?” He looked at the three older children, including them all in his broad smile. “I am delighted that you have come to visit with me. I am Major John Allen Jameson, Earl of Devenham, although I suppose you are already quite aware of that. I am at your service.” Seated in the wing chair, he could not exactly bow, but he nodded his head quite formally.
The children gave their names in turn and made their respective bows and curtsy, observing perfect manners with grave expressions on their small faces.
“Now that we have taken care of that business, shall we not all be friends?” Devenham invited.
With such encouragement, the children quickly settled onto the thick Turkish carpet and began to ply him with endless questions. He was happy to respond, relating various stories about his experiences with great relish despite the need for frequent editing. They heard about life in his regiment and a little about the war; they even heard a few stories about his childhood in Derbyshire.
In return, he soon learned a good deal about the children. Dorrie’s unappreciated desire to be a stage actress was revealed, as was Thomas’s fascination with all things military. William’s incredible imaginings were described in some detail, along with David’s interest in studying the various habits of natural creatures.
Diplomatically, Devenham tried to make certain each child had equal time and equal shares of his attention. He learned about the puppies on Oxford Street, the stray cats that Phoebe had tamed in the garden, and the menagerie whose home was the schoolroom. He was vastly entertained, and quite pleased to discover that, as the children’s lives intertwined so thoroughly with their aunt’s, he was learning something about her as well.
He even expressed polite enthusiasm when William offered to bring Fremont Frog down to visit the sickroom. “I should like to meet him,” said the earl. “In fact, I have a special reason to want to make his acquaintance. Shall I tell you? I heard an interesting story while I was in Vienna for a short time last winter.”
He delivered this introduction just as Mullins returned to the room with a new tea tray laden with treats for the children. He waited while they helped themselves and then began his narration.
“The story is about a frog, but not just your ordinary sort of everyday frog, no indeed. This frog was in actuality a prince who had been put under a spell by a wicked fairy.”
The earl could see that he had the children’s full attention. He had surprised himself by remembering the story, and he was not at all sure of how well he would retell it, but he was pleased to try, for he was enjoying the children’s visit.
“Now, this frog lived in a well, and I am certain he lived in despair of ever being rescued from his terrible fate. But one day a beautiful young princess came by, playing with her ball. What do you suppose should happen but quite unexpectedly the ball fell into the well.”
Devenham’s enthusiasm for his task carried into his tale, and he kept his small audience enthralled as he related the frog’s persistence in getting the princess to keep her promise. “After all,” he said, “she did give her word to allow him to eat at her table and sleep upon her bed, did she not? And he knew that somehow he must be able to do that for three nights in a row, or the spell would never be broken.”
As if he and his listeners, including Mullins, were themselves under a spell, not one of them noticed Phoebe’s arrival until the earl reached the end of the story. “So the
frog prince kept his promise and loved his bride as she loved him forevermore.”
Phoebe was not quite certain what to make of the scene before her. “My lord, I do apologize,” she said as soon as Devenham had pronounced the eternal happiness of the frog prince and his lady. “I had specifically instructed the children not to disturb you in any way while you are here. I never dreamed they would disobey.”
Turning to the four downcast culprits in front of her she scolded, “And how long have you been in here, pestering Lord Devenham? I am very surprised. Had you quite forgotten what I told you?”
Devenham interrupted her. “Please, Lady Brodfield, I invited them. You may lay the responsibility on me.” Suddenly he looked as sheepish as the children. “In truth, I have no idea how long we have been at this. They have been very entertaining company.”
“I would have said you were entertaining them, not the other way ’round,” Phoebe commented dryly, but her expression softened a little. He had, after all, been doing a very creditable job of it. “I am sure you are well and truly tired now. Of course, you deserve no less.”
The children had scrambled up and gathered around Phoebe, undaunted by her reprimands. She touched their cheeks affectionately. “Come, children, off you go.” She clapped her hands and shooed them out the door like a flock of reluctant pigeons.
Mullins began gathering up the tea things.
“I hope you will not be upset with them,” Devenham said. “I truly enjoyed their visit and encouraged them to stay. Why had you instructed them not to come in here? Am I such an ogre?”
Phoebe busied herself with straightening his bed, for she was certain he had been up far too long. No, not an ogre, she thought. I do not know what you are.
She had experienced such a confusion of feelings when she and Lucy had begun to talk about him, she had surprised herself. She had felt a strong desire to protect his privacy when Lucy had first asked her to tell “all about the earl.” When Lucy had pressed her, she had found herself defending his character, describing virtues she had only reluctantly admitted to herself that he possessed. When Lucy in turn had related with relish a number of scandalous stories about him, Phoebe had wanted to cover her ears and run away. She had been astonished to hear the names of some of the women Lucy said were rumored to have had affairs with him.
It is all nothing but rumor and innuendo, Phoebe reminded herself now, as she had at Lucy’s. She had gone so far as to make that point to Lucy, for what little that was worth. But the conversation had resurrected her doubts and made her realize that in the past few days she had relaxed her defenses. She must not allow herself to fall under Devenham’s spell.
“I thought you might not care to be bothered by a parcel of inquisitive children,” she answered carefully. “I knew you would not be used to them, and I also know very well how quickly they can tire someone who is quite healthy, let alone someone who has been very ill.”
“I want them free to come in whenever they wish, especially if you are not available. They can save me from dying of boredom, a far worse death than any of the ones I have already escaped.”
His commanding tone nettled Phoebe, as did his words. She had not seen herself as entertainment, saving him from boredom. “I do not believe anyone ever actually died from boredom, my lord,” she said primly. “Moreover, I do not think it a good idea to allow the children to visit whenever they wish. I will allow them to come occasionally, however, at arranged times.”
“Thank you. I am not used to children, but I found it very easy to talk with them.”
I wonder what they talked about, Phoebe thought. A sudden pang of jealousy mixed with apprehension. She had only witnessed him telling them the story; she had not considered what might have transpired before that. “I had no idea you were such a raconteur,” she said, pausing to look at him. “That was quite a charming story you told them.”
She was surprised to see the look of apparently genuine pleasure that crossed his face. “Did you hear it, then? I did not know at what point you arrived.”
She nodded. Goodness, his eyes were so incredibly blue, even at this distance. “I believe I came in just after the ball fell into the well.”
“I spent a few weeks on furlough in Vienna last winter, and that is where I chanced to hear the story. In fact, if I can remember them, I heard several others I could tell the children besides that one. There was a scholarly fellow there for the Congress, part of the Hessian delegation, who collects these kinds of stories, and he had formed a little group in Vienna who delighted in exchanging them to pass the time.”
Phoebe saw the wicked light that she had learned to recognize so well come into his eyes, and she quickly turned away to fluff his pillows. What could possibly be wicked about fairy tales? And where was Mullins? She realized suddenly that both he and the tea tray had disappeared.
“I must add that many of these stories had more than one version,” Devenham continued. “I saw ladies far less reputable than you put to the blush. Some of the French and Italian stories I heard were enough to curl even my hair. Of course, I would never repeat those versions to children.”
He chuckled, but to Phoebe it had a sinister sound. She could picture the devilish grin that was probably on his face, but she refused to look at him.
“Why, in The Frog Prince, the older versions call for the frog to sleep in the princess’s bed,” he continued. “In other words, to lay with her. No wonder the poor princess was so dismayed.”
Phoebe’s cheeks were positively burning. She opened her mouth, then closed it firmly. She smoothed a last wrinkle from the earl’s bedcovers, then walked straight out the door without a word.
Chapter Six
The puppy arrived at noon on the following day. Mullins had gone out briefly in the morning and then returned, but Phoebe had given the incident no thought at all. She had refused to dance attendance on the earl, sending a message that she was indisposed.
She was in Judith’s sitting room trying to explain why she was no longer willing to attend the earl when the new arrival was announced. It was a novelty to see Maddocks looking flustered.
“Your ladyship,” said the red-faced butler with a formal bow to Judith, “we have a rather unprecedented situation downstairs. It concerns a delivery that, uh, no one seems to have been expecting.”
“What is it, Maddocks?” asked Judith, obviously intrigued. She exchanged a wary glance with Phoebe.
“A puppy, madam.”
“A puppy? Oh, no.” Both sisters rose to their feet in dismay, the same thought running through their minds. Who could have . . . ?
“Surely not Edward,” Judith said aloud, the question never needing to be voiced. “He was very clear at dinner the other evening that he agreed it was impractical. And I don’t see any way the children could have . . .”
Phoebe had a sinking feeling. “I think I may know who,” she said ominously. “Lord Devenham.”
“But how? And why?” asked the astonished Judith.
“The children spent some time with him yesterday—perhaps as much as the entire time I was gone to Lucy’s. He was quite taken with them. They might have mentioned it. And now that I stop to consider, Mullins did go out this morning.”
“I do not think my children would ask a guest of ours to buy them a puppy, or anything else for that matter,” Judith said slowly, “especially when Edward and I had already refused our permission.” She sat down again. Her small frown of puzzlement did not quite mask her obvious pleasure in the idea that her children might have charmed someone like the high-living earl.
“Oh, I quite agree,” Phoebe hastened to reassure her sister. “I rather expect it is something Lord Devenham thought up all on his own after talking with them.” She could not prevent the stormy state of her emotions from showing on her face. This time the earl had definitely gone too far, and
this time his bad behavior had extended to other people besides her—very special people at that. It was too much to overlook.
“How extremely awkward,” Judith lamented. “How can we refuse the puppy without seeming extremely ungracious? If only he had checked with us first!”
Phoebe did not sit down again, but rather began to pace in a circle around her chair.
“As his hostess, you may be in an extremely awkward position,” she declared, “but I am not. In truth, I am in a perfect position to intervene on your behalf, Judith. Someone needs to set Lord Devenham in his place.”
“Oh, now, Phoebe, please don’t say anything rash,” Judith began, but at just that moment the three boys came tumbling into the sitting room in a dither of excitement, followed by Dorrie at a slightly more decorous pace. In their haste they nearly bowled over poor Maddocks, still waiting patiently for his instructions. David held clutched in his arms a small, wriggling mass of brown and white fur.
“Mamma, oh look, Mamma!” they all cried in a chorus. “Isn’t he wonderful? Did you ever see anything so adorable?”
The puppy was promptly deposited in Judith’s lap. Watching her sister’s hand stroke its soft fur a moment later, Phoebe knew all was lost. The puppy would stay. But that did not mean Lord Devenham should escape her indignation.
“Well, Maddocks, I believe we have a new member of the household,” Judith told the butler with a resigned sigh.
As the older man started out the door, he nearly bumped into Goldie, who had been just about to knock. “Visitor for Lady Brodfield,” the young footman whispered. Maddocks did an abrupt about-face and re-entered the room he had just left.
“I am informed you have a visitor, Lady Brodfield,” he announced in his usual grand manner. Apparently realizing that he had left out an important piece of information, he wheeled around again to consult Goldie.
Persistent Earl : Signet Regency Romance (9781101578841) Page 7