An Unexpected Passion (Unexpected Series Book 2)

by Leighann Dobbs

  Tristan stepped forward, allowing his hands to rest lightly on Chelsea's shoulders, leaning slightly forward to better put himself on eye level with Alaina, but Phoebe noticed the easy way his fingers caught at a stray curl floating near her nape and how he twined its silken length around a knuckle before he replied.

  “In my defense, I was unaware the captain of the Valkyrie was her father at the time.” His gaze also slid to Tony, but he turned back to Alaina to finish with, “My wife is no better at staying out of things that do not concern her than our dear Phoebe, it seems.”

  He lifted his head then to stare directly at her, but Phoebe could not discern whatever message she sensed he had hoped to convey. “In fact, you two seem to have a great deal in common.”

  “Wife?” Alaina's shocked question burst into the room and all eyes were suddenly riveted on Tristan and Chelsea. “You two are married?”

  Phoebe saw the roll of Emily's eyes and then the wry twist of her lips before she nudged her twin and said, “Oh, please, Alaina. Precisely which part of their introduction as 'Lord and Lady Greeding' did you misunderstand?”

  The room erupted in a cacophony of questions and half-finished explanations Phoebe was only slightly certain she managed to correctly piece together. Apparently, Lady Chelsea's grandfather, the Marquess of Glenwood, had cut off his son for marrying an American. For years, he and his son were estranged, but the marquess had begun to have a change of heart when his granddaughter was born … which apparently was far too late in his son's eyes. Having been forced by his father to make his own way, Vincent Hastings, Lady Chelsea's father, had entered the shipping trade and eventually became owner and captain of his own ships. When Chelsea's mother grew ill and passed away before matters could be resolved between him and his father, Vincent had sent his daughter to the marquess to live and turned to a life of piracy.

  Chelsea was quick to defend her father—he had never taken from those who did not deserve it. He had plied his trade mostly against other pirates and from those which were not, he took only food and materials which he then provided to those in need. If the English lords who looked down upon him only realized the situation in which some of the impoverished families her father had helped over the years lived, they would be appalled to not lend assistance, she said.

  Phoebe heard Tristan scoff at her attempt to make her father seem like less a villain to his family. “The man is a pirate, Chelsea,” he said, but Phoebe found it telling that he did not also try and paint the man in a lesser light.

  “Was,” Adrien, Lord Wyndham, hastily corrected, pointing out that the captain of the Valkyrie was 'presumed dead', thanks to Tony's skillful maneuvering of facts, and that Vincent Hastings and his father were on good terms once more, due to his assistance with rescuing Chelsea from the dastardly pirates who had kidnapped her. Wyndham-Locke Shipping were fortunate to be able to place such a skilled captain at the helm of one of their new ships, which was soon to be bound for the Colonies.

  Shortly thereafter, conversation turned to Lady Chelsea's rescue … and her rebellion, which had incited a need for it in the first place. Through it all, Phoebe held her silence. Grandmother Amelia remembered to ring for tea while Alaina ignored the social graces entirely. She was far too preoccupied with the discussion and hung on every word.

  Emily quietly plied her needle, raising her head once in a while to ask for clarification on one subject or another—like whether or not Chelsea had been frightened aboard the pirate ship (of course she hadn't. Her father would never let her come to any harm—the gunshot wound she had received at Tristan's hand was not mentioned), and why it had been so important for her to join her father on the high seas (she missed him—they hadn't seen each other for more than three years) rather than stay put with her grandfather (who was surly and still angry with her father for refusing to come home where he belonged) where she was safe, but for the most part, she ignored the explanations and chatted quietly with the unusually subdued Lady Melisande.

  Phoebe kept her watchful gaze on Tristan, noting the way he couldn't seem to keep his hands off his new wife. Whether resting them lightly upon her shoulders where his fingers were wont to twine in the spill of her brilliant hair as she answered this question or that, or slipping to her waist with an easy familiarity when he assisted her forward to a seat, or merely in passing her a cup of tea, he somehow managed to make sure they touched.

  Not only that, every time their fingers brushed or their eyes met, she could see that he was affected—profoundly so, and although the lady seemed better able to conceal her own responses, Phoebe saw those as well. Whatever had passed between her brother and this woman during the many months Tristan had been away, it was evident to all who cared to look that their relationship was clearly based on something more than a 'passing fancy'.

  There was a gentle carefulness in Tristan's actions and an easy acceptance in Chelsea's response—a deference from one to the other, and it was the kind of courtesy and respectfulness that only came from something deeper than a passing acquaintance.

  Without a doubt, Phoebe decided, there was more truth to the story Tony had spread about Tristan and Chelsea having fallen in love while he was on board her father's ship, but she could only wonder if he and Chelsea were aware of just how obvious their affection for one another was—or perhaps, as she was the one looking, she was also the only one to see it?

  Glancing over her shoulder at Edward, her thoughts went back to the last conversation she had had with her brother about their betrothal. Tristan had accused her of being selfish, and she found herself wondering now if it weren't true. Unlike her brother and his new wife, Edward wasn't fondling her hair as he stood at her back. Nor had his fingers brushed hers when she'd passed him a cup of tea. In fact, unless they were alone, Edward hardly touched her at all.

  I was thinking I do not love you. His words from long ago resounded clearly in her head, reminding her once again that their marriage, unlike Tristan and Chelsea's seemed to be, would not be a love match. Far from it.

  Careful to keep all evidence of the confusion and hurt at knowing her soon-to-be husband did not and might never love her from her expression, Phoebe turned her attention back to her brother and his new wife.

  “Tell us how you came to be awarded a title,” she urged during a lull in the conversation, and she was certain either Tony or Tristan himself had answered, but her thoughts continued to be elsewhere engaged.

  Conversation hummed around her while Phoebe slipped back into her thoughts to her argument with Tristan from two nights ago. Despite the hurt they had caused at the time, she recalled every word Tristan had said to her regarding her refusal to break off her engagement to Edward until, finally, she understood what he had meant, what he had been trying to tell her all along.

  At the time, Tristan had believed he was going to die. Yet he had still attempted to tell her, to explain about himself and Chelsea without actually saying he had fallen in love with her. But in truth, he had done precisely that. Only she hadn't realized it at the time. She had believed he was speaking of Edward when in truth he was warning her against causing her betrothed to miss out on all of the things he had discovered for himself.

  Tristan knew what being in love was like, knew intimately how it felt to find a woman who put the light of happiness in his eyes and the slow, gentle warmth of contentment in his soul. The kind that turned his world upside down just to show him a deeper, more worthwhile meaning to life that left him unsettled and yet determined, set his spirit afire and made his life worth living—and hers worth dying for.

  Yes, she understood now because just this moment, Phoebe finally realized Tristan had been explaining what she would be forcing Edward to forfeit in his own life by telling her exactly how he felt about Lady Chelsea. Not only that, but Tristan had wanted her to understand he loved her, too. All he wanted was for her to be free to find a truly powerful kind of love for herself—the kind he had found with Chelsea.

  What had been
his words? Profound and abiding? Aye, a profound and abiding kind of love was his dearest wish for her, and Phoebe was beginning to believe she had found it. But again, what of Edward? Her eyes rose again to his, searching their depths for some hint of shared affection, but she found only mild curiosity lingering there. Again, his declaration that he bore no great love for her rang in her thoughts and she lowered her gaze.

  Tristan was right. If she married Edward now, she would be doing so for all the wrong reasons. Tristan did not need her to save him. As evidenced here today, he never had.

  But Edward...

  Other arrangements could be made to secure the Vykhurst finances.

  Marriage was but one option—one she suddenly feared she could not be a part of.

  If she went through with the wedding now, as planned, Edward would surely come to hate her—perhaps even despise her—for everything their life together would represent.

  Watching Tristan and Chelsea together now, she understood that this was what Tristan had been trying to tell her, to warn her against before he faced the magistrate and possibly his death. Her marriage would be based on nothing more than the sacrifice she had been willing to make due to her great love for her brother rather than a profound and abiding love for the man she would marry, and that would be wrong. So wrong.

  To be responsible for having denied Edward his one chance to discover a love like the one her brother and Chelsea clearly shared would be a tragedy, and Phoebe found she no longer had the heart to go through with it.

  17

  By the time the conversation wound down to the quiet murmur of friendly chatter, it was clear to all present the greatest portion of responsibility for Tristan's freedom lay in Tony's hands. It was he who had spirited Lady Chelsea away from the pirate ship to his own and then to Chateau Ambray, where he'd kept her in secret for weeks to give her time to heal.

  When Tristan insisted, for what Phoebe guessed was not the first time that he should have been told Chelsea was still alive rather than be forced through the hell of believing her dead, Tony's quiet reminder that there had been complications from which she might yet have died brought all eyes 'round to Chelsea again.

  “Would you have preferred to deal with the hell of seeing her die before you not once, but twice?” he'd asked though he, as well as everyone else in the room, knew the answer long before Tristan's dark scowl told them he certainly would not.

  It was also Tony who had forged an earlier date on the marriage documents than the one upon which Lady Chelsea had been shot and Tristan had been taken into custody by the Royal Navy for her murder to give credence to the story that Tristan and Chelsea had fallen in love aboard the pirate ship. Edward found it more than slightly amusing to know Phoebe's brother had not even been in attendance at his own wedding.

  It was Tony who had made up the outlandish story of Tristan's heroic attempt to rescue Lady Chelsea from dangerous, bloodthirsty pirates when in truth Chelsea had foolishly stepped in front of her own father to save him from Tristan's wrath. But that hadn't stopped Tony from personally presenting the tale of Chelsea's rescue to Prinny and thereby winning a viscountcy for Tristan—as reward for his valiant services to the Crown—and his subsequent freedom from all charges previously levied against him as well.

  And it was Tony, he noted, who now stood silent and apart from the obviously happy group, staring quietly into the flames of the fire in the hearth while Sebastian, Chelsea, Tristan, and Lucien repeatedly lauded his genius and sung his praises to the family for all he had done to secure Tristan's freedom and his future. Like Phoebe, he had held strangely silent throughout.

  A late lunch was announced.

  The footman who informed the duke that a light repast had been laid in the dining room had barely disappeared through the doorway when Sebastian stood, taking advantage of the disruption in the conversation to make excuses for himself, Nick, and Adrien. There was much which needed yet to be settled before their new captain could step up to the helm of a Wyndham-Locke vessel, he explained, and the three made their departure amid promises from Sebastian and Nick to bring the family around soon for dinner—and to meet the new viscountess, of course.

  Congratulations were offered yet again for Tristan's escape from the hangman's noose and on his recent marriage before Tony, too, stepped forward, murmuring about how it was long past time he left, as well.

  Edward made no such excuse. In fact, he could hardly wait until the family began to disperse, or to at least slip back into their normal daily routine so that he could speak with Phoebe about what he had seen when Chelsea had come forward. Claire, however, left her place at Lucien's side to hasten forward. Catching Tony's arm, she shook her head and led him toward a settee directly across from the window where Edward still stood with Phoebe.

  “Since I am certain you have no intention of depriving me of the moment I have waited weeks in utmost patience for, Your Grace, I should hope you will do me the honor of tarrying with us yet a few moments more. Come. I would like you to meet my dearest friend, Lady Melisande Ruebrige.”

  He saw Claire bite back a grin, carefully schooling her features as she turned to Melisande, and he wondered at the subtle but unmistakable teasing in her gaze when she said, “Mel, it is my great pleasure to finally be able to present to you His Grace, Anthony DeVere, the highly lauded yet oft reclusive Duke of Ambray. Though I believe you may know him as the rest of us do. To those whom he loves most deeply, he is known most simply as Tony.”

  To his credit, despite the angst-filled looks Edward had seen Ambray cast in the lady's direction a number of times during the past hour and the wry twist of his lips, Tony merely bowed low over her hand and said, “Welcome back to England, my lady. I trust your visit to the islands has refreshed your spirit?”

  Edward did not hear her reply, however, because Phoebe's younger sister Alaina chose that particular moment to stand and declare her awe to Tristan over the extreme change in his circumstance from this morning to now.

  “Only you could stand before the magistrate on charges of kidnapping and murder and walk away with an estate, a title, and a beautiful wife,” she said after an engulfing hug. Then, her head tilted ever so slightly to the right. Her eyes regained the speculative gleam Edward had seen within their depths more than once, and he could only wonder at what great dilemma she pondered until her lips spread wide in a grin and she said, “No wonder Phoebe loves you best.”

  Edward arched a brow at her deduction. He hadn't known Phoebe more than a handful of weeks, but in that time he rather thought he had come to know her on a deeper level than most—at least more deeply than her sister, if Alaina truly thought Phoebe loved any one of her siblings any less deeply than another.

  “Are you saying you love me less than Phoebe, sweetness?” Tristan teased his sister. But then he nodded toward Phoebe, drawing Alaina's attention to her, as well. “But perhaps you are wrong. It seems there has been a transfer of our sister's affections of late, Alaina.”

  “You may be right,” she agreed. “Phoebe has Edward now, same as you have Chelsea and though I am deliriously happy for all of you, I have to admit I am feeling a bit chuffed to have missed your wedding, Tris. You know we would have been there if we had but known.”

  Edward wasn't close enough to make out his exact words, but he thought he heard Tristan mumble, “As would I.”

  Alaina laughed. “But think, Tris. You're home now and this time for good! None of us will have to miss Lucien's and Phoebe's happy day. It is going to be positively wonderful, and—aren't you excited?”

  Though he was not touching her in any way, Edward was still close enough to feel Phoebe stiffen. He knew Alaina's mention of the wedding had upset her in some way, but he did not expect her to bolt for the door. After only a hastily murmured “Excuse me,” she twisted away from his outstretched hand and fled across the room, ignoring Lucien, Tristan, and her grandmother's calls reminding her lunch was ready to be served.

  Though Claire and Lucie
n and even Tony spared a concerned glance in her direction, no one seemed wont to detain her or even follow to ask what had sent her scurrying from the room in such a rush. Tristan, he noted, at least stared at the door in speculation for a moment before glancing in Edward's direction, one brow arched high. The look he gave said, 'Well? Are you going to go after her or just let her leave? Obviously something is bothering her, you ass.' and rather than fight with her brother or shrug and wait out Phoebe's desertion like the rest of her family, Edward sighed.

  Quietly fishing the white handkerchief from his coat for the tears which seemed probable and would likely be streaming from her eyes by the time he caught up with her, Edward took the unspoken command in Tristan's questioning gaze for what it was and excused himself to follow Phoebe out.

  She hadn't gone far.

  A quick inquiry of one of the footmen pointed him toward the back lawn. Another, and he was on his way to the carriage house. After a complete turn about the spacious interior during which he found not a hint of her presence, Edward scowled. Were the staff leading him on a merry chase? Finally, the quiet sniffling of a lady clearly in distress reached his ears and he followed the sounds until he reached the duke's carriage.

  Quietly, he opened the door and leaned inside. Phoebe was sitting with her head leaned back against the squabs, eyes closed. Tears, as he had suspected they would, streamed across her cheeks and down, wetting the front of her gown but she paid them no heed. “Phoebe?”

  “Go away, Edward,” she said without opening her eyes. Her voice was strained; gravelly. Her shoulders shook and her rhythmic breaths continued, punctuated by yet another sniffle until a dainty hiccough disrupted the pattern.

  The only word Edward could think of to describe the unexpected sound of it intruding amidst the sorrowful noise of her tears was cute. Biting back a smile, he tried again. “Your family have removed to the dining room. I believe they would be happy for us to join them now.”