Gentleman Never Tells (Regency Historical Romance)

by Knight-Catania, Jerrica

  At least an hour passed as her mother relived the past, but at the end of the sordid tale, Phoebe still didn’t know the last piece of the puzzle. What was this horrific thing they were all trying to keep from her? She’d known about Wallace—she just hadn’t known all the details. But there was still something more, of that much she was certain.

  “Mama, I know this has been taxing, to say the least. But I know there is more that you are not telling me.” She squeezed her mother’s hands between her own. “Please, Mother.”

  For the first time in the last hour, her mother lifted her head and met Phoebe’s gaze. There was a great deal of shame in her eyes, and Phoebe hated to press her further, but she needed to know. Whatever this secret was, it was causing a great deal of unrest in her family.

  “Darling,” her mother began, her voice thick and raspy, “Benjamin was not the cause of your father’s death.”

  It took Phoebe a moment to even comprehend how her mother knew Benjamin had caused the fever that had led to her father’s passing. Perhaps this was how they’d ended up arguing the other day, but . . .

  “Are you saying the fever was coincidental then? That Benjamin is innocent in all this? Why the secrecy if it was merely a coincidence?” She was having trouble wrapping her mind around this particular idea.

  “You have it partly correct. Your husband is completely innocent.” Her eyes filled with fresh tears and she tried to turn away, but Phoebe would have none of it.

  “Mother, look at me,” she said, adding a force behind her voice that she had never used with her mother. “What part, exactly, do I have wrong then?”

  “I didn’t want to tell you. I thought it best to protect you from such a harsh and horrible reality. Lord Grimsby was an awful husband to me, but he loved you. More than anything else, he loved you. And he was a good father when he came around. That’s what I wanted you to remember of him.”

  “So there are no misconceptions, Mama, I had no illusions about my father’s character. No glorified impressions of the man whatsoever. And my memories of him have been clouded by a year of being hunted by his creditors. I’m not sure anything you say would surprise—”

  “Your father killed himself.”

  Phoebe blinked at her mother’s sudden admission. “He . . . what?”

  “He kill—”

  “No!” Phoebe held up a hand. “Don’t say it again. I heard you the first time. I . . . I can’t believe it. Why?”

  For the first time in a very long time, her mother burst into laughter. Phoebe stared at the woman, not quite sure what to think after admitting her husband had taken his own life.

  “Mother?” she asked, reaching out to lay a comforting hand on her shoulder. Clearly, the woman was going mad.

  “Oh, Phoebe, I know this is no laughing matter.” She dabbed at her moist eyes. “But it feels . . . good to finally have all of this out in the open. Darling, I’m so sorry I never told you.”

  Phoebe dragged her mother into her arms and hugged her long and hard. In the end, it didn’t really matter how her father had met his demise; she had already mourned him, his debts had been paid—in more ways than one. What really mattered was keeping her family together now, finding a happy ending to more than a year of misery.

  She pulled back from her mother with a sudden jerk, her mind shifting to Benjamin. Oh, poor Benjamin!

  “Go to him,” her mother urged with a teary half smile, and Phoebe needed no further prodding.

  She ran from the room, through the halls, checking any and all of the locations she thought she might find him. Not surprisingly, she found him in his bedchamber—their bedchamber—practically pulling his hair out. It was obvious he’d been worried about the outcome of her chat with her mother, but she would be quick to set him at ease.

  The large wooden door swung back and banged against the inside wall of the chamber. Benjamin turned at the sound. His eyes were wary, his dark locks stood on end, and a general look of dread clouded his features.

  Phoebe barely stopped to look at him, for she was drawn to him like a magnet. She needed to be in his arms, to tell him how much she loved him and how very sorry she was for all he had been through, and all she had put him through as well.

  His arms wrapped about her middle; he held her so close and so tight that her feet came off the ground. She hugged him back and ran reassuring fingers through his tousled hair as she did. She breathed him in, the masculine, alluring smell of him she had missed so much.

  And then he was kissing her and carrying her to the bed. It turned out that words weren’t actually necessary in the making-up process. She knew the truth now, and he knew she knew the truth. They didn’t need to talk about it. So, they made love instead. For Phoebe, it was the most freeing experience of her life, lying with her husband, knowing that nothing else stood in their way. No more lies, no more questions . . . only the love they had for one another.

  Sometime later, as the rain beat against the window of their bedchamber, Phoebe curled into the crook of Benjamin’s arm and sighed contentedly. His hand stroked her hair and she was tempted to let the tender motion lull her into the deep sleep she so craved. But she had one more secret she needed to get off her chest.

  “Benjamin,” she said quietly into the darkening room.

  “Hm . . . what is it, my love?”

  “Well,” she turned slightly so she could rest her chin on his chest and see into his eyes that sparkled in the dim firelight, “as long as we are sharing secrets, I do have one more thing I think you should know.”

  He sucked in a breath, and his eyes widened slightly; her serious tone clearly made him uneasy. But it was impossible for her to keep up the somber ruse, and a smile broke out on her lips before she could stop it.

  “You needn’t look so very terrified, Benjamin . . . or should I say, Papa?”

  It took only a moment for him to comprehend her words, and then he leapt from the bed with a great holler of joy. Phoebe laughed at the sight of her husband, naked and virile, jumping about like an India rubber ball. He gave a few more ecstatic shouts of “I’m going to be a father!” before he returned to the bed.

  He nearly smothered Phoebe with his kisses, but she didn’t mind one bit. There was love, so much love, behind every kiss, and it was the sweetest moment Phoebe had ever known. Though her life had been filled with uncertainty for so long, she knew she would never, ever doubt again that she was thoroughly and completely loved.

  Epilogue

  Ravenscroft Castle

  Five Months Later

  “Becky will murder us in our sleep if she ever finds out about this, Kat.”

  Phoebe stared aghast at her sister-in-law, whose belly looked as if it might pop at any moment. Kat held in her hand a letter. A letter that was not addressed to either of them, but to Becky. Becky had no family that Phoebe knew of. In all her time with them, she had never received a single letter. From anyone. Ever.

  So it was indeed suspicious that she would receive one now, which was why Phoebe had brought it to Kat, merely for the sake of discussion and speculation. Not with the intent to open it, for heaven’s sake!

  “You are overreacting, Phoebe,” Kat assured her. “It is for Becky’s own good that we screen the letter before we pass it on to her.”

  Phoebe eyed Kat askance. “How in the world could the two of us opening Becky’s post be for her own good?”

  Clearly having been bested, Kat leveled her with an annoyed expression. “Do you want to know what is in the letter or not?”

  Phoebe bit down on her lip while she thought about it. Of course she wanted to know what was in the letter. How could she not be just a little bit curious?

  “Perhaps you’re right,” Phoebe said at last. “What if it is bad news? We might be able to soften the blow in that case. No one wants to read bad news in a letter. It’s much better coming from a friend, is it not?”

  Kat smiled and patted her on the hand in a congratulatory sort of way. “My thoughts exac
tly.” Then she broke the seal on the letter and unfolded it, holding it out so they could both read.

  Phoebe scooted a little closer—though Kat’s belly was so large, she couldn’t get all that close—and focused her eyes on the flowery script.

  Dear Miss Thorn,

  My husband and I were very pleased to receive your letter. Our two children, Max and Lydia, are in desperate need of a governess, though we have had some difficulty finding one who suits our every need. I am certain, with your education and background, that you will be a perfect match. Perhaps we could persuade you to join us for a trial period here in Essex? I look forward to your expeditious reply.

  Sincerely,

  Viscountess Hastings

  Phoebe could hardly believe her eyes. Becky wanted to leave them? Even now, tears threatened to choke her. “Why?”

  “Oh, Phoebe, darling, don’t get all upset now,” Kat said, patting her on the back. “It’s only a letter. This doesn’t mean she’s going to go.”

  “You don’t think so? Why would she have written to this—” she peered at the letter again “—Viscountess Hastings if she didn’t mean to seek employment with her?”

  Kat seemed stumped at this. “Well, it’s no matter, Phoebe, we can simply burn the letter.”

  “Burn it!” Phoebe cried, turning astonished eyes on her sister-in-law. “Have you gone mad, Kat?”

  “Shhh! She’ll hear us . . . and, no, I have not. If you don’t want her to go, don’t tell her about the letter.”

  Phoebe sighed, wishing it were that easy. But she would never be able to lie to Becky like that, and the guilt would be so unbearable she would eventually confess all anyhow. “Thank you for the suggestion, Kat, but I can’t do that.”

  “All right,” Kat said, looking more like The Canary now that the wheels were turning in her head. “Then why don’t we make it impossible for her to go?”

  “Impossible?” Phoebe raised her brows, curiously. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, we should—oh!” Kat’s hand flew to her oversized stomach.

  “Kat? What is it?”

  Her sister-in-law looked at her with a panicked expression. “I think it’s time.”

  “Time? Time!” Oh, Lord! She crossed the parlor and flung open the door. “It’s time!” she shouted into the corridor, hoping someone, anyone, would hear her and come to their aide.

  Blessedly, word spread throughout the household in a matter of minutes, and before she knew what was happening, Kat was being assisted to her chamber. William picked her up in his arms, struggling a bit thanks to Kat’s massive belly, and carried her off, with the dowager and Lady Grimsby following behind.

  Phoebe put a hand to her own stomach, now more than six months along with her own babe, and thanked God she was with child. It was the only thing keeping her from having to be in the delivery room with Kat. A place she really did not care to be.

  ***

  “May we go in?”

  The doctor held the door open and gestured for Phoebe and Benjamin to enter Katherine’s bedchamber. It was early the next morning, and sunlight streamed through the windows at the far end of the room. But the brightest spot to be found was in the middle of the large bed where Katherine sat with her new baby boy and her new baby girl. Phoebe and Benjamin walked together to her bedside and peered over the swaddling blankets to see the babes tucked inside. Two small pink heads, covered in matted black hair, poked up from their confines, and Phoebe’s heart melted at the sight.

  “They’re so small,” she whispered, already in love with her tiny niece and nephew.

  Benjamin reached out and put a loving hand on her round belly, eliciting a well of activity from their own little one.

  “Do you want to hold one?” Katherine asked her.

  Phoebe started at the question. “Erm . . . later, perhaps.” She felt the warmth creep into her cheeks as Benjamin turned to look at her, a bemused expression in his eyes.

  “You’ve never held a baby, have you?”

  Phoebe shook her head slowly as her hands grew numb from fright. Oh, goodness. What if she made it cry? Or dropped it? Heaven forbid! She really did not want to hold a baby right now. She had no idea what she would do once her own was born, but she preferred not to think about that.

  “It’s all right, darling.” Benjamin took her hand and led her around the side of the bed. “I’ll hold little Will first to show you how it’s done.”

  “Don’t patronize me, Benjamin,” she chided. “I’ve seen other people hold them plenty of times. I’ve just never done it myself.”

  Benjamin smiled at her as he reached to retrieve William from Katherine’s arms. He cradled the baby with an expertise that indicated he had held many before this one.

  “Where did you learn to hold a babe like that?” Phoebe asked, trying to hide the jealousy in her tone.

  Benjamin glanced at his sister, an affectionate smile on his lips, and then turned back to Phoebe. “I was almost four when the twins were born and six when Kat was born. Once I learned how to hold them, I didn’t want to put them down.”

  Phoebe glanced at her sister-in-law. She looked radiant and exhausted at the same time. But her eyes glittered with tears. Phoebe felt them prick at her own as well.

  “I beg your pardon. What was that?” Benjamin spoke to the infant as if he’d just spoken to him. “You want me to teach you how to make girls weep over you, too?”

  “Oh, do be quiet, Benjamin,” Katherine warned her brother, and then to Phoebe added, “Leave it to my brother to create a tender moment and then ruin it all in the same breath.”

  “All right, love, it’s your turn. Sit here.” Benjamin stood from his perch on the bed and motioned for Phoebe to take his place.

  Very gently, he lowered baby William into her outstretched arms, and Phoebe knew she had fallen in love with yet another boy. She held him gingerly at first, afraid she might break him if she held on too tight, but as she became more comfortable, she couldn’t resist the urge to nuzzle him closer. He was so soft, and he smelled sweet and warm. Now she understood why her husband might have been reluctant to put his brothers and sister down when they were wee things.

  William came into the room then, after having stepped out to speak with the doctor. Benjamin greeted him with congratulations, and then both men left to go enjoy a celebratory cigar in the study.

  “We should have guessed you were having twins,” Phoebe said once the door was shut. “You were big as a house after only five months.”

  “How kind of you to point that out,” Katherine rejoined, her lips curving into a smile. “Now, what have you done with that letter?”

  Phoebe smiled. Of course, not even twenty hours of labor with twins could deter Kat from gossip. “It has been resealed and delivered to Miss Thorn.”

  “And?”

  “And . . . ” Phoebe shifted the baby slightly in her arms and then looked up at her sister-in-law. “I think we should put whatever devious plan you have to keep her here into motion . . . immediately.”

  The End

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  More Than a Governess

  Prologue

  Lady Isabelle Thornton stood at the back door of Blakeny House, her hand poised to knock, but her wrist refusing to go through with the movement. She didn’t care that the rain continued to soak through her dress even though she had a feeling it would take days for the thick, ugly material to dry completely. And Isabelle certainly paid no mind to the fierce grumbling in her stomach—the butterflies were far more bothersome than the hunger.

  Or perhaps it was the heavy pit of grief that truly overrode any physical discomfort at the moment.

  She tucked her bottom lip between her teeth and bit down. Hard. What was she doing here? She knew nothing of hard work, of being a lady’s maid or, God forbid, a scullery maid. What would it be like to be on the other side? To serve rather than be served? Would she ever be able to return to
the station to which she’d been born?

  Probably not. Not after what had happened. Not after…

  Isabelle shook her head in a desperate attempt to toss the memories from her mind. If she dwelled on them, they would take her over, drown her in such despair she wouldn’t be able keep upright. But she needed to keep upright—she needed to survive. And Blakeny House was her only option right now.

  She raised her fist again, and this time, she did not hesitate to knock. Within moments, the door opened to reveal a thin, older woman, dressed much like her own housekeeper. Her hazel eyes crinkled at the corners as she took in Isabelle’s appearance.

  “You must be here about the maid position,” she said with a smile. “Well, come on in, dearie. You’ll catch your death if you stand there much longer.”

  Isabelle followed the woman through the small door and into a large, toasty kitchen. Her muscles, which she hadn’t even realized had been bunched with cold and tension, began to relax, as the warmth of the stove penetrated the thick, wet wool of her dress.

  “Have a seat right there, miss, and I’ll be with ya in just a moment. Lady Grimsby will be wantin’ her tea now. Not usually my duty to deliver the tea, but since Sally up and left us to marry that Jimmy boy from Spitalfields, I’ve been doin’ near everything. It will be nice to have an extra pair of hands…”

  The woman bustled from the kitchen, her arms leaden with a heavy tea tray, and the swinging door came to a rest moments later. Isabelle stared unseeing at the door, her heart racing with fear, her mind jumbling with thoughts and images that would disturb a grown man. For a fifteen-year-old girl, they were almost unbearable.

  She fought to concentrate on one emotion rather than the hundred that bombarded her at the moment. She chose the only one that would get her through this day, through the new life she’d chosen out of necessity: hope. Hope that she was the first, if not the only one, to respond to the advertisement. Hope that her ruse would work, that she wouldn’t be recognized, that she would somehow be able to convince the kindly housekeeper that she was capable of doing a job she’d never even considered.