by Bess McBride
“If the end of the trial is a life with the woman I love, then I can endure anything,” Reggie said quietly.
“Well said, Reggie.”
****
As he promised, Reggie set himself out to be a gracious guest, although he was not overly fond of Mr. Duncan. He found Mr. Duncan to behave too familiarly toward Phoebe next to whom he was seated. Reggie had been seated on the opposite side of the table and forced to watch the tall dark-haired man attempt to charm Phoebe. Had Reggie introduced Phoebe as his betrothed, that might have put to rest the man’s fatuous smiles toward her, but Reggie had been wounded at the time and had withheld that information—prophetically as it seemed.
Phoebe’s face was drawn, and her nose tinged pink suggesting she had been crying. His heart ached for her, but he could not be certain he had it within his power to lift her spirits. Although, as William said, perhaps he had been hasty in his assessment of the situation that morning.
However, Phoebe averted her eyes from him, and he had no opportunity to talk to her privately that evening. In short, she avoided him, and there was nothing he could do about it at present.
The Sinclairs and Mr. Thompson discussed the possibility of investing in a publishing business. Mr. Duncan, when he could be bothered to draw himself away from Phoebe, joined in. At those times, Phoebe kept her attention on the discussion, and Reggie watched her.
He loved her dearly, of that he was in no doubt. But if she wished to return to her time, then perhaps she had better do so The moon was still high in the sky that night. If she thought their joint wishes could help her return home, then he was prepared to do that for her. He did not know how much longer the moon would be full. He vowed to ask her what her wishes were before she retired to her room for the night.
The hours passed slowly, and the interminable, though well-prepared, dinner finally came to an end. William did not delay at the table but joined the ladies immediately. Reggie attempted to catch Phoebe’s eye on entering the drawing room but failed. She kept close to Mattie. He noted Mattie watched them and exchanged troubled glances with William. Reggie shrugged when William looked his way.
Reggie moved closer to Phoebe and leaned near.
“A word in private before you retire, Phoebe,” he said in a low voice.
“No,” Phoebe whispered in a harsh note. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” She moved away to stand on the other side of Mattie as she talked to Mr. Thompson and Mr. Duncan.
Reggie stiffened and straightened. That was her answer. She did not wish to discuss the matter further. His chest ached, and he wanted nothing so much as to rush out of the house and hop upon Sebastian to ride out into the night—which, of course, was the thing that had brought him to his heartache.
And he had promised William he would do his best to make the evening a pleasant one for Mattie. He could not leave early, could not plead a headache or whatever it was that young misses did when they were unhappy.
Fortunately, the Sinclairs and the publishers concluded their business, and those gentlemen bid them goodnight. Mr. Duncan lingered overly long with Phoebe’s hand in farewell, and Reggie contemplated raising a fist to the man’s chin but held back and clasped the offending hands behind his back.
As the front door closed, Phoebe bid them good night and hastened up the stairs to her room. Mattie and William looked at Reggie, who pressed his lips together and said his good night as well. He climbed the stairs slowly and waited in his room until he heard the sounds of doors closing and the house quieting. He changed out of his eveningwear and into more comfortable clothing, grateful that a bag had been delivered for him that morning.
Reggie inched the door open and heard no sounds. He stepped out into the hallway and listened. Nothing. He approached the door to Phoebe’s room and listened carefully. No sounds of stirring. A faint light showed below the threshold of the door. It seemed that Phoebe did not yet sleep. Reggie took a deep breath.
Chapter Fifteen
Reggie rode out on Sebastian early the next morning to meet with the local estate agent. His late night jaunt to Ashton House to ride Sebastian had been at once stealthy and yet liberating. Unable to force himself to knock on Phoebe’s door as he longed to do, he had instead sought solace in the company of his horse. Contrary to his previous outing on Sebastian, he had not ridden pell-mell into the darkness in anger but had sedately allowed Sebastian to feel his way down the lane of the estate. They had retraced their steps to where Reggie had fallen in the dirt, lingering there a while to no particular purpose other than to dwell on memories.
The moon seemed to waver as it shone down on him, glowing less brightly than when he had last looked upon it. Was it still full? If Phoebe wished to return to her time, she must decide soon. He pitied her and pitied himself, indulging in a few moments of unadulterated wallowing before reining himself in.
Now, the next morning, Reggie determined to find himself a house regardless of whether Phoebe wished to marry him or not. He no longer cared to live in his father’s house, but desired his own home. He had thought to ride over to Hamilton Place early in the morning and invite Samuel to accompany him since he had promised his brother he could have a home, but Reggie decided to investigate alone. If Phoebe could not accompany him as they had originally planned, then he wanted no other. Samuel could, of course, live in his home, but he would have no say in the selection of it.
He met the estate agent in the village, a tall, thin man of indeterminate age named Mr. Hart, and he followed him to an estate several miles from the village. In such close proximity to his own home, Reggie had indeed heard the name of the family who had previously owned the estate, the father a banker, but he had never met them.
Mr. Hart drove his small carriage while Reggie followed on Sebastian, preferring to be solitary. They soon approached the unassuming gates of the estate and entered to follow a wide lane toward the house. The trees parted and a charming castellated and turreted house festooned with multiple white-trimmed windows appeared before them.
Reggie’s first impression was that Phoebe would have loved the house that had the look of a small castle. Having just been built in the late 1770’s, the house appeared new and yet medieval with its many turrets. He half expected to see a moat surrounding it, but they arrived at the circular entrance without crossing any such thing.
“I should like to see the gardens of the house before entering it, if you please, Mr. Hart.” Reggie dismounted and tied Sebastian to a post.
“Certainly, Lord Hamilton. I think I know something you will enjoy. This way.” Mr. Hart led him around the side of the house and toward the back where they climbed onto a wide stone terrace that overlooked a pastoral scene of green fields as far as the eye could see with cows grazing along the side of a dazzling stream of azure blue. Trees dotted the landscape. The gardens just below the terrace sported masses of colorful flowers. He turned toward the house. Two large bay windows, as tall as the door they flanked, overlooked the vista behind him. He imagined evenings watching the sun set in the distance across the plains.
Without seeing the inside of the house, Reggie knew he had found the one. Phoebe would have loved it, and he knew he would love it as well whether she ever lived there with him or not.
“I will take it, Mr. Hart,” Reggie said, his heart thudding as it had when he proposed to Phoebe. “When may I take possession?”
“Do you not wish to see inside, Lord Hamilton?”
“Yes, of course, Mr. Hart, but that will not change my decision. Shall we discuss the details while we walk?”
“Oh, certainly!”
They retraced their steps and entered the house while they discussed price and availability. The house, although furnished, was available, and Mr. Hart thought the owners might be willing to let the furnishings go with the house. It was available immediately.
The inside of the house, as promised, did not dissuade him from his decision, nor was there anything about it that was not wonderful. The
layout was elegant yet informal, the furnishings festive and colorful. Phoebe would have delighted at the interior of the house. Perhaps she could still one day see the house before she returned to her own time, if that was her intention. He could not imagine that she would choose to stay for any other reason...unless it was impossible to find her way back.
Reggie returned to Ashton House. Mattie ran out the door as soon as he cleared the trees, and Phoebe hung by the doorway.
“Where have you been?” Mattie called out as he rode up. “And when did you get your horse?”
Reggie dismounted and handed Sebastian to a waiting groom.
“I am almost too mortified to admit that I went for Sebastian last night.” He kept his gaze on Mattie.
“After dinner? Are you serious?”
He smiled awkwardly. “I am serious. I wanted to ride.”
“Well, that’s what happened to you last time, and look where you ended up.” Mattie said. She turned to look at Phoebe by the front door watching them. She lowered her voice. “Look, Reggie, you need to fix this. I don’t know what happened between you two, but she’s miserable. When she found out you’d gone this morning, she burst into tears. You nineteenth-century guys! Heartbreakers, all of you!”
Reggie wished he could smile at her quip, but he could not. “I believe we are no longer engaged, Mattie. It seems as if Phoebe had a change of heart yesterday, or perhaps her heart was never in it.”
“Oh, nonsense!” Mattie cried. “What do you mean? She’s head over heels for you. What happened?”
“I do not know,” he said, swallowing against the renewed ache in his throat. “When we met for tea, she had changed. You saw it, I believe. She was secretive, uncertain, reluctant. She could not meet my eyes. I knew then that I had pressed her too much and forced her to accept my suit.”
Mattie’s eyes widened, and she sighed and shook her head. “I think I know what this is about. It’s not what you think, Reggie, I promise. Did you ask her about it?”
“I tried to talk to her last night, but she said she did not wish to discuss the matter. Unfortunately, she believes I have changed my mind. I believe she changed hers.”
“You two!” Mattie muttered. “Phoebe, can you come here a minute?”
“Mattie, do not!” Reggie said harshly. “Do not press Miss Warner any further.”
Phoebe moved forward reluctantly, as if she were headed for the guillotine. She came to stand beside Mattie, her eyes on the ground.
“Look, you guys. I’m kind of a wannabe matchmaker, so I can’t let this sit. Reggie thinks you’re hiding a secret, Phoebe—that you don’t want to marry him. Reggie, Phoebe just cries and cries, say’s it’s over and won’t talk about it.” She stepped back and made a gesture of washing her hands. “You two figure it out. But trust me, Reggie, nothing happened in town yesterday that would affect how Phoebe feels about you. I know. I was there.” She turned on her heels and reentered the house, leaving Phoebe and Reggie to face each other.
“I’m sorry I blew you off last night, Reggie. I should have tried to listen. I was just too scared to hear what I didn’t want to hear. You can tell me what you need to now.” Phoebe’s voice was leaden.
Reggie gestured toward the garden. “Shall we walk, Phoebe? Whether you wish to marry me or not, I hope we shall always be friends.”
Phoebe’s head shot up and she stared at him for a moment before turning in the direction of the garden. He followed her. The lilac gown she wore suited her fair complexion and brought forth the golden tints in her brown hair. She wore no bonnet, and he wished he were free to run his fingers along the silky curls at her neck. Her ramrod straight back, however, suggested that would be out of the question.
She seated herself on the bench and turned to look at him.
“Would you sit down, please? I can’t have you hovering over me that way.”
Reggie realized he had been indeed hovering nervously, and he seated himself.
“So, what did you want to say, Reggie?” Phoebe asked in a quiet voice.
“I bought a house,” Reggie said, the first thing that came to his mind. “I know you will probably never live there, but I wish you to see it.”
Phoebe swung her head in his direction. Her face grew bright red, and her mouth worked but she uttered no words. She turned away, and Reggie swallowed hard. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and he fished in his coat for his kerchief.
“Phoebe, Phoebe, forgive me. I meant no injury to you. Please do not cry.”
She began to cry in earnest, and he waved the kerchief ineffectually.
“Do not cry, my love. Do not cry,” he murmured. He pulled her toward him, she resistant at first then yielding, and he held her as she sobbed. He murmured inconsequential words against the sweetness of her hair.
“I do not mean to hurt you. I am a beast. I sought only to share my find with you. You would adore the house. You truly would.”
“You were supposed to take me with you,” Phoebe wailed against his chest.
“But I thought you would not wish to go, Phoebe,” he said. “You seemed so...reticent yesterday.”
Phoebe began crying anew. “I wanted to go. You promised,” she sobbed.
Reggie knew he had little enough experience with women, but he certainly had no experience with women from the twenty-first century.
“I could not speak to you last night. I thought you were angry with me.”
“I was,” she said. “I was mad at you.”
“There! What am I to think? Yesterday morning, I was overjoyed, but then you retreated from me, and I suspected that you had changed your mind and could not find a way to tell me. Your acceptance of my proposal, while the most fortunate event of my life, was unexpected both for you and for me.”
She nodded against his chest. “I know. It surprised me, too. I wanted to wait until I knew you better, but I realized I’ll never love anyone as much as I love you no matter how well I know them.”
Reggie wondered if he heard correctly. Her words were too wonderful.
“Did you say that you loved me?”
She nodded, her face rubbing against his coat. “I told you that before. I haven’t changed.”
“Oh, my love, I am so sorry to have hurt you. I should have waited to find the house. I was confused. I did not understand. Perhaps I do not know you well enough either. Why then did your temperament change yesterday morning? Was it an unexpected shyness on the occasion of our betrothal?”
Phoebe lifted her head and looked at him. “I can’t tell you.”
“You cannot tell me? Why ever not? What could you not tell me? Do we not love one another?”
Phoebe nodded. “I love you, I know that.”
“And I love you too, my dearest girl. So then what?”
“I can’t tell you,” Phoebe shook her head again.
Reggie released her and rose abruptly. “What? Are we to begin our lives together with secrets and distrust? What can you not tell me?”
Phoebe jumped up. “It’s not my secret to tell. I promised I wouldn’t.” Her voice was strident.
“To whom does the secret belong then? Is it Mattie? What secret could she have that would affect you and I?”
Phoebe shook her head. “No, not Mattie.”
“William then?”
Phoebe shook her head. “Stop fishing, Reggie. It doesn’t matter. I can’t tell you.”
“Well, it certainly cannot be that odious Mr. Duncan who fawns upon you. I hope we have seen the last of him, but I fear it is not to be if William intends to enter into business with them, and you and Mattie choose to work together.”
Phoebe’s lips twitched. “Not the odious Mr. Duncan,” she said. “He wasn’t that bad, Reggie.”
“His behavior was reprehensible. Certainly to a betrothed woman.” Reggie drew his brows together.
“Well, he didn’t know I was engaged. I don’t think we mentioned it. I think it was kind of up in the air at the time.”
“Non
etheless, to openly flirt with an unmarried young lady in the home of his host. Appallingly bad behavior.”
“Reggie,” Phoebe murmured with an affectionate tone of reproach.
Reggie was not repentant. “Nonetheless,” he stated to no purpose other than to have the last word.
“Tell me about the house. How is the attic? Anybody up there?” she said.
“You seek to change the subject.”
“I do,” she said. “It’s like this. I love you, Reggie. I can’t tell you what the secret is. I wish I hadn’t acted the way I did yesterday, but you seem to have a knack for being able to read my expressions, so I can’t hide anything from you. Whatever the secret is, it doesn’t affect me.”
Reggie took Phoebe’s hands in his and kissed the backs of them. “I study your face often, my love, and do not miss many of your expressions which you show in abundance. However, I am not always able to interpret your emotions. If the secret does not affect you, then it does not affect me, and so I am content to let it be. I apologize for haranguing you on the subject.”
Phoebe’s eyes flickered, and her smile wavered.
“Alas, I see by your expression that my words have not rung true. Then if the secret does not involve you, it involves me. Is that correct?”
Phoebe sighed and would have removed her hands from his, but Reggie kept them in a gentle grasp. “Technically, I would by lying to you to say that it doesn’t involve you, however remote. And I don’t want to start lying to you.”
Reggie heaved a sigh. “But it does not affect you, and that is my main concern. Who must I ask about this secret?”
Phoebe shook her head. “I can’t say. You might try Mattie.”
Reggie quirked a brow. “Then it is Mattie’s secret. How it might concern me is beyond my comprehension.”
“I’ll bet,” Phoebe said. “So, about that house.”
“We should have luncheon then I shall borrow William’s carriage, and we shall set out to see the house together this afternoon. I will need to obtain the keys from the land agent.”