Despite how loudly Gavin had spoken, Phoebe kept her voice soft so that the entire room did not hear. “I am not answerable to you, Mr. Durnst, and my assignment was over. I am sorry if you traveled out of your way, but I did not ask you to come after me. In fact, I am certain I forbid it.”
“I am trying very hard not to become furious with you. As we are in public, I will hold my tongue, and we will speak during the first dance.” He crossed his arms.
“And if I refuse to dance with you?” She already knew she was pushing him, but she didn’t care.
“Then I will make a scene right here and now.” His smirk was enough to make her want to kick him in the shin.
Tara stared, wide-eyed. Lady Tollfield frowned from across the room, then narrowed her eyes on Phoebe and patted her white wig.
A scene would not be welcome. Phoebe stifled a sigh. “I will dance with you, Mr. Durnst, but only one dance and only if you promise to not make a spectacle of yourself.”
He bowed, smirked, and strode away.
Leaning in, Tara giggled. “Miss Hallsmith, you are turning out to be the most interesting person at this ball.”
“Goodness, I hope not, Miss Winkle.”
As if it were some tragic comedy in the theater, Jared walked in through the garden door and pardoned himself around the outside of the room toward them.
“Unfortunately, Miss Winkle, this is not my best night. Please excuse the next chapter of this farce.”
“I beg your pardon?” Tara turned her head, looking for whatever was coming.
Jared stopped in front of them. “Good evening, Miss Hallsmith. You look lovely.”
“Thank you, Mr. Blunt. It is surprising to see you here.”
He bowed and glanced around as if he might be tossed out at any moment. “I had to call in a few favors to gain an invitation. Working people like you and I rarely are favored at such balls. However, it is early in the season, and I think Lady Davenport feared there would be a lack of men for dancing.”
Since he was oblivious to his insult, Phoebe pretended she hadn’t noticed. “May I introduce my friend, Miss Winkle?” Phoebe was attempting polite conversation. Perhaps she could distract him.
“How do you do, Miss Winkle?”
Tara curtsied and hid a giggle behind her gloved hand.
“You followed me to London, Mr. Blunt?” Phoebe failed to hide the annoyance in her voice.
Jared grinned as if he had no clue she was put out by his behavior. “Of course. You cannot be ignorant of my intentions, Miss Hallsmith. I could not let you run off and not pursue. Though I admit it would have been nice had I heard of your leaving Rosefield from you rather than his lordship.”
“My assignment was finished. I did not need to report to you.”
His lips twisted to that pert pucker he got when annoyed, then flashed to calm before he spoke. “May I dance with you tonight, Miss Hallsmith?”
“My second dance is free.” She resigned herself to the ridiculous evening.
Grinning, he bowed to each of them and had a distinct bounce in his step as he walked away.
“Who are these men, Miss Hallsmith? Forgive me, it is none of my business. I like the second one better than the first. Though, the first was better looking.” Tara fluffed her skirt and sat in one of the chairs lining the ballroom.
Suddenly very tired, Phoebe sat next to her. “They are vying for my hand and they are both the wrong man.”
Tara leaned forward. “Is there a right man in this scenario?”
Clearly, Tara was brighter than Phoebe had originally given her credit for. “It is a long story and one we cannot discuss in the middle of a ball where it is my job to get you seen by the ton.”
Pulling a face, Tara said, “I think I would rather hear your story.”
Phoebe laughed. “Another time. The music is starting and you have a gentleman walking this way.”
Unfortunately, it also meant that a gentleman was heading toward her, though Gavin’s gentlemanly qualities were questionable. His blond curls bounced around his strong jaw as he bounded across the ballroom. He held his shoulders back and bowed with his hand out for her to join him in the minuet. Despite how good looking he was, Phoebe cringed.
Luckily the complex dance meant that they would not be in proximity for any length of time. She passed Tara, who grinned happily. At least someone was enjoying the ball.
When the music stopped, Gavin bowed and she curtsied. He escorted her back to the mantel side of the room where he had collected her. “I would like a few moments of your time, Miss Hallsmith.”
Honoria glided over with a flower in one hand and a fan in the other. Where she had found a lily in the cold of London, Phoebe had no idea. Sparkling with too much jewelry and smiling, she settled next to Phoebe. “Miss Hallsmith, you look lovely.”
“As do you, Lady Chervil.”
Gavin cleared his throat. “Miss Hallsmith, may I have a few minutes of your time?”
“I really do not see why, but if you must, you may speak to me on Tuesday afternoon. For now, I have promised the next dance to Mr. Blunt.” Phoebe curtsied, dismissing him.
Tara returned to her side, said something in Mr. Stagemore’s ear, and he rushed off.
Face twisted with emotion, Gavin leaned close. “Your brother is very much in favor of our marrying.”
“Then perhaps you should marry Ford.” The temper she tried so hard to keep restrained simmered near the edge of her control. She was not setting a good example, but she would not be bullied by Gavin or Ford.
“He will hear of this.”
Phoebe took a breath and stepped forward so that she was inches from Gavin’s red face. “If you think that threatening me with the wrath of my brother is the way to win me over, you are sadly mistaken, Mr. Durnst. And if you continue to offend me you will not be welcome in Everton House on Tuesday afternoon to say whatever it is you mean to. I suggest you stop now and enjoy your evening. Perhaps there is another young woman here who would be pleased to dance with you.”
“Is this a random day you have picked?”
He had a point, but she held her head high and pulled her shoulders back. “It is the first day I am available for visitors. You may feel free to decline.”
Gavin held his breath and his eyes widened before he relaxed and stepped back. “Until Tuesday then, Miss Hallsmith.”
Waving her fan in front of her face, Honoria placed the flower on the mantel. “Oh, you do entertain, Phoebe.”
“I am so glad you are amused, Honoria.” Phoebe needed air, but Jared was on his way over to claim his dance. “Miss Winkle, how did your first dance go?”
“Better than yours. Mr. Stagemore is a perfect gentleman. He is coming over with lemonade. However, now I wish I could just stay with you. Your life is far more interesting than anything else at this ball.”
Phoebe turned and narrowed her gaze on Tara and Honoria. “I am so pleased to be an amusement for the both of you. Now if you will excuse me, I must dance with another man determined to give me what I do not want.” Spinning on her heels landed her directly in front of the approaching Jared Blunt.
The moment they reached the dance floor, Jared said, “Tell me you will marry me, Miss Hallsmith.”
It was like a cruel joke. For years, no one asked, and now everyone wanted to marry her but all for the wrong reasons. “I most certainly will not. I told you that in the country and I do not see why you would think asking me in public would make me respond differently.” The dance carried her away for several phrases.
Jared clomped along through the steps until he returned to her side. “I had hoped some time would give you clarity on the subject. If you would prefer to speak of this in private, I understand. It is out of the ordinary to propose during a dance, but I am smitten and could not wait.”
“You do not sou
nd smitten.” Another partner swept her away for a turn around the room. Once again in line, she took Jared’s sweaty hand. “You sound desperate.”
“I…you…that is not true. Though I must be completely honest, marrying the daughter of a viscount would be quite good for me. And as you will be my wife, it would be good for you as well. I can take ample care of you.”
Silently she allowed herself to be promenaded while her mind raced and her rage grew. It had taken years of her life to keep the least provocation from erupting. However, this was not the least. No one should have to endure these idiotic men. The dance came back around to Jared. “I thank you for your honesty, Mr. Blunt. I can see how you have calculated everything. I’m sure you also have hope of my reconciliation with my family and perhaps a dowry at some point, Mr. Blunt.”
“I will not discuss it here.” His lips drew into a thin line.
The music drew to a close. “Very well, you may visit me at Everton House on Tuesday afternoon. You can also come up with a good reason for me to say yes to your request for my hand. Your adoration notwithstanding.”
Phoebe turned and walked to the mantel where Honoria watched while chatting up the chubby Lord Countroy.
The ball could not end quickly enough for Phoebe. She made sure that Tara had several other dance partners all of whom were eligible to marry a woman of her standing. Late in the evening, Tara danced the last dance and her mother asked if they could drop Phoebe home. Thankfully Honoria was still skipping around the ball.
“I will manage with Lady Chervil, thank you. I hope you enjoyed the ball, Miss Winkle.”
Clapping, Tara grinned. “It was wonderful. I could not have done it without you, Miss Hallsmith. Thank you. I hope you will allow me to call on you. I do so enjoy your company.”
Lady Tollfield frowned.
Plastering a smile on her face, Phoebe said, “It is not proper for a young lady to pay a call to Everton House. It is a place of business. I do wish you all the best, Miss Winkle.”
Tara gave her mother a look that said this was not the timid girl of a day ago. “Never mind, Miss Hallsmith, I am sure we shall meet again.”
“I look forward to it.” She made a curtsy and corralled Honoria before calling for the carriage.
Once inside, Honoria waved her fan around. “Do you think you will marry either of them?”
“No.” Phoebe watched the city go by dark and shadowy with only the moon to light their way.
“That Mr. Durnst is very hansome.”
“He is a snake.”
Honoria smiled but quickly hid it behind her fan. “And what of Mr. Blunt?”
“He is a fool, and they both are only after me for titles and money.”
Honoria put her fan in her lap and snapped it closed. “But Mr. Blunt liked you from the moment he met you.”
It was true. Jared might make someone a good husband, but it would not be Phoebe. The notion made her groan. “I have given this matter far too much thought. Neither will suit. I will just deal with Ford’s temper and then go back to being disowned at his convenience.”
With a sharp laugh, Honoria said, “He does seem quite involved in your life for a man who disavowed his stewardship.”
A long sigh spread through Phoebe and exhaustion seeped into her bones. “Indeed.”
Chapter 16
No. 5
Everton ladies and staff are never to be a burden on the client.
—The Everton Companion
Rules of Conduct
Markus has seen his father in every state of drunkenness over the last fifteen years, but he was not prepared for the wretch standing in his study.
Geoffrey Flammel, the Earl of Castlereagh, teetered near the bookshelves. His skin was a yellow color and his eyes red slits. While he wore a fine suit, it hung on him as if it had been made for someone else. “Where is the damn brandy?”
“I gave it up.” Markus sat behind his desk, hoping the enormous piece of furniture would distance him from the similarities in Father.
Father turned and stared at Markus, though his eyes never found focus. He waved a hand and collapsed onto the chair. “Wine will do.”
“There is no wine either, Father. I have given up drink.” Leaning back in his chair, he dreaded that he had ever appeared so weak and stupid to his sweet Elizabeth. If not for Phoebe, he might have found himself in this state.
“Gave up drink? What nonsense is this? A man does not give up what is rightfully his.” His head lolled to one side and his eyes closed before he snapped back awake and gazed at Markus as if he not seen him before. “Ah, son. Go and get me a brandy, will you?”
Markus leaned forward placing his elbows on the desk. “Father, there are no spirits in this house. I have given up drinking in favor of taking care of my family.”
Lips pulled back to expose his yellowed teeth, Father made a scoffing sound. “Do you think I’m blind and deaf? Do you think I don’t know what everyone is saying? You have no family. A mute child and a dead wife is all you have, boy. Now go and fetch me a drink.”
“You have no power over me, Father. I can see that you have ruined your health and I am sorry for that. I would suggest that you stop drinking or whatever vice you have fallen to, but I know my words would fall on deaf ears. I will tell you this: if you ever say an unkind thing about my daughter again, I will not wait for the drink to kill you.” This was not the man who had played with him as a small boy or even the tyrant who had railed at him in his teen and adult years. A wretched stranger sat across from him and while he said he was unaffected, his heart broke.
Cocking his head, Father blinked several times. “No spirits? You really have stopped drinking?”
“Yes, Father.” Markus pressed his hands to the wooden top and braced for whatever Father would say.
Running his hand through his graying hair, Geoffrey leaned forward, barely catching himself on his knees. “You are stronger than me, Markus. I let it all go to hell. I never hoped to be perfect, but there was a time when I had hoped to be a better father and husband.”
“There was a time when you were better. A time before you let your vices rule your life.”
“I tried to kill little Dory’s husband. Did you know that?” His voice scraped like stone against stone.
Markus wanted to comfort him, but Phoebe’s toughness had snapped him out of his stupidity. “I heard.”
“She will never forgive me.” His shoulder shook.
“No. I do not imagine she ever will. Certainly, not as you are.” He clutched the desk pushing away his jumbled emotions. Caving in or breaking down would not help this man, and it would not make him feel any better. He had to stand strong and be the stable force in his family. It was his duty.
Tears streaked Father’s cheeks when he lifted his face. “Is there any chance?”
It took his swallowing several times before he knew his voice would carry the strength necessary. “Stop drinking, pull yourself together, give up gambling, and stay away from the sort of people you have befriended in recent years. Show her that you have made changes.”
“Then my girl will look at me as she did when she was little?”
Unable to lie, he said, “Probably not, but after a time, she might not look at you with disdain.”
Geoffrey slumped farther into the chair and his eyes rolled back and closed.
Watching the rise and fall of his father’s chest, Markus sat back and made a mental list of the things he needed to see to. The pieces of his father’s estate that needed immediate attention, the repairs to the front of Rosefield and the fence in the north pasture. He wanted to meet with each of his tenant farmers before the spring planting to discuss George Harper’s methods and increase production. Time ticked away on all his plans and most of all, Phoebe. He had to convince her to come home, to be his.
“Where is the da
mn brandy, boy?” Father sat up and looked around the office with unfocused eyes.
“Perhaps you might have a bite to eat, Father. I shall have Cook prepare you some nice soup.” It was worth trying.
The green of Father’s eyes glowed against the bloodshot whites when they widened then narrowed. “You want me to eat?”
“I believe you need to eat. Do you even remember the last time you had a meal?”
His pasty skin flushed red and he shot to his feet overturning the chair. “I ask for brandy and you offer me soup. I am your father, not some beggar off the street.”
The hardest part was detaching his emotions from his voice. Markus stood as well. “You act more like that beggar you speak of.”
“I will kill you.” He gripped the other chair and smashed it against the wall and bookcase with more force than Markus would have imagined possible. Wobbling, he gripped the desk to remain standing.
The shelf cracked and a dozen or more books tumbled to the floor. A short time ago Markus had caused destruction in the room and the comparison was not at all pleasant. “I would be more concerned if you could stand up straight for more than a moment at a time. As it is, I have little issue with stopping you, and you may feel free to break all the furniture in the house if it pleases you.”
Father pushed away from the desk and stepped toward the door forgetting about the overturned chair. His foot caught on the leg and he crashed down with a sickening thud.
Rushing around the table, Markus cursed himself for being so callous. No. It was not his fault. He pulled the cord for Watson. Gently, he turned Father face up and pulled his frail form into his lap. Leaning down, Markus checked if Geoffrey breathed but it was thready at best. The reek of brandy seeped from his skin sickening Markus. “Oh father, what have you done?”
Watson stepped inside. “My lord?”
“The earl has fallen. Prepare a room and call for the doctor. I will carry him upstairs.”
Watson rushed from the office and barked orders in the foyer.
The door swung wide as Mother stepped across the threshold. “Is he dead?”
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