Candlelight Wish (25 page)

“He’ll come,” Lucy declared with a gleam in her eye.

He probably would, she reflected. He was not one to put a hostess out once he had accepted an invitation. And since it would be a very small party, with only Ashby and Mr. Colney invited as well, he would probably announce his engagement. The prospect plunged her into deeper gloom.

Xanthe greeted the advent of a puppy into her household with remarkable aplomb—remarkable at least until Phoebe remembered that as a fairy godmother the depredations that so young an animal could make upon her salon need not trouble her in the least. Nor did Titus object. The large lazy cat eyed the boisterous new arrival, blinked sleepy eyes at it and the puppy thereafter appeared deferential in the extreme to the massive feline.

When Phoebe finished settling the puppy under Titus’ watchful eye in a makeshift pen in the library, she looked up to find Xanthe standing behind her. Phoebe straightened her drooping shoulders, lifted her chin and forced a smile to her lips. “He will like her, will he not?”

Xanthe ignored her question. “You want to keep her yourself.”

Phoebe stroked a flopped ear. “I couldn’t. When I leave you at the end of the Season I have no idea where I’ll go. No employer would welcome me with a puppy in tow.”

“You wished for a husband,” Xanthe reminded her.

Phoebe kept her gaze on the spaniel. “And I threw away my opportunity.”

“Nonsense. There are several weeks still to go.”

A shaky laugh escaped Phoebe. “Oh dear, I feel like Lucy. I couldn’t possibly marry another gentleman when my heart has been given to another.”

“Then you must marry him,” came the prompt response.

Phoebe fought back the tears that blinded her eyes. “He doesn’t want me.”

A sigh escaped Xanthe. “And you think Lady Sophia to be without spirit. I had not thought you would give up so easily.”

Phoebe flushed. “What would you have me do? I cannot order a gentleman to desire to marry me.”

“You may encourage him to do so.”

“It’s too late for that.” Bleakness crept into her voice.

“It is never too late.”

Phoebe shook her head. “If he has offered for her—”

“
If
,” Xanthe said. “It is by no means certain that he has. But it will make no difference at all if you insist on accepting defeat before it is even handed to you. My love, your future is in your own hands now. Magic can do no more for you. Do nothing and your failure is assured. Act and you might still win through.”

Might
. Xanthe had not said
will
.

“You have one more opportunity this night,” her fairy godmother said softly. “Do not throw it away.”

One last opportunity to convince Miles that offering for any other lady than herself would be a dreadful mistake. One last opportunity to win the love she longed for, his love. One last opportunity.

Phoebe spent the remainder of the day with the puppy, playing with it, watching it sleep, deriving what comfort she could from its unquestioning delight in her company. As the hour approached to prepare for their guests’ arrival, she considered asking Xanthe for assistance in dressing. But Xanthe had said magic could do no more for her. It was up to her. With this in mind she donned her favorite of
Madame
Bernadette’s gowns, the one of amber silk and blond lace, and arranged her hair in a becoming style which allowed a cascade of curls to fall around her face. About her neck she clasped a simple gold locket, the only jewelry she possessed that did not owe its existence to Xanthe’s humming. With considerable trepidation she made her way down the stairs to await Miles’ arrival.

His manner, when at last he put in his appearance, gave nothing away. He greeted her with a warmth that had been lacking at their last meeting but Phoebe didn’t dare place any hope on that. In fact now that he was here she hadn’t the faintest idea how she was to broach so intimate a topic as his potential forthcoming marriage. Any hope that Lucy might be of assistance proved futile. Lord Ashby had arrived before her and as soon as the girl had greeted her hostesses she went to his side and proceeded to converse with him in an unusually solemn manner.

Which, as Xanthe had warned her it would, left the matter entirely in Phoebe’s own hands.

No opportunity for private speech presented itself until after the meal had drawn to an end and in the absence of a host all had retired to the drawing room together. While Mr. Colney, Mrs. Mannering and Xanthe settled around a card table, Lucy drew Ashby into a corner to resume their interrupted conversation. Phoebe found herself facing Miles and knew her time—and opportunity—had come.

“Has something occurred to trouble you?” he inquired, a slight frown creasing his brow.

Yes
! she wanted to cry but could not. She sought words with which to ask him if all her hopes and dreams were for naught but none came. At last she asked him to accompany her to the library and led the way.

The puppy sprang to its feet the moment she entered the room, pawing at the barrier as it whimpered for attention. Miles went to it at once, picking it up and receiving its frantic licks. Over the top of its head he asked, “One of Gussie Wrexham’s?” He stroked the pup’s soft fur. “I’ve thought of getting one too.”

And there was her opportunity.

She swallowed, very much afraid. In the next few minutes she would know. “This one is for you.”

He looked up at that, his brow snapping down. “Why?”

“So you will have something to love.” There, she’d said it, she’d actually gotten it out and there could be no turning back. She’d seized her opportunity and now she would find out if she were too late.

He regarded her with a slight frown. “I’m afraid I do not understand.”

“She is an engagement present,” Phoebe declared before her faltering nerve could vanish altogether.

“Engagement?” He regarded her from beneath his lowered brow, studying her, his expression giving nothing away. “Somewhat precipitous, perhaps.”

“Is it?” She held her breath. Did this mean he had not yet offered for Lady Sophia?

“Why,” he said softly, “do you think I should need something to love? Especially if I am on the verge of becoming engaged?”

“Then you haven’t offered for her!” Phoebe exclaimed. “Oh I am so glad. But you mustn’t do it.” Once started, the words rushed from her. “She wouldn’t suit you in the least. She could not possibly love you as much as—” She broke off, stemming the flow just in time.

“Wouldn’t she?” He watched her closely, a task made difficult by the frantically licking tongue that assailed his chin. “Of whom, by the way, are we speaking?”

“Why, Lady Sophia, of course. Lucy said—” She broke off, faltering at his expression of mingled consternation and amusement. “Lucy!” she breathed in dawning horror. “You-you never had any intention whatsoever of offering for Lady Sophia, did you? Did you?” she demanded.

“None in the least. We are very old friends, I must admit but I find I desire a great deal more than that with the lady I marry.”

Phoebe drew an unsteady breath. “Lucy is every bit as much a meddler as ever you could be,” she declared with savage feeling.

“It seems to run in our family.” Very slowly he closed the distance between them. In one arm he still held the squirming puppy but his other hand encircled the nape of her neck. “Do you not want to know what it is I desire in marriage?” His fingers strayed along her skin, tickling in the fine hairs that lined her neck.

Phoebe looked down, her heart pounding. “I-I beg your pardon. I seem to have made a complete fool of myself. And when I see your sister I shall strangle her.”

“Rather extreme, don’t you think?” His thumb reached her jaw, stroking it gently, followed by fingers that trailed down her throat. He had begun to smile. “Her meddling was well intentioned if unnecessary. But then you must remember she had no idea I had matters well in hand. She probably feared I would never get around to it so she gave
you
a push.” His thumb traced the line of her lower lip and his hand cupped her chin. “You did imply something about loving me, did you not?”

Her cheeks burned. “I-I was laboring under a misapprehension. And if you were at all a gentleman you would have the decency to ignore ridiculous statements made when…” She faltered, searching for an explanation that might not sound wholly ridiculous.

“This is one moment when I believe I shall prefer
not
to be a gentleman.”

He released her chin only to encircle her shoulders with his arm and draw her to him. His mouth closed over hers, demanding, both sweet and urgent. She melted against him, clinging to all she thought she had lost. His lips brushed her cheek, found her mouth again and conscious thought ebbed away.

A protesting yip, followed by a brisk licking of her chin, brought her back to a sense of her surroundings. Miles, chuckling softly, released her and set the pup by the hearth. The look he directed at Phoebe set her pulse racing.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since that first night I saw you perched on the railing in Queen’s Square, trying to reach that window sill,” he informed her.

She swallowed, still finding it difficult to breathe. “I’ve been wanting you to.”

The door opened and Lucy burst in, dragging Ashby by the hand. “There you are, Miles. Simon has something he particularly wishes to ask you.” She thrust her companion forward then cast Phoebe a sideways eager glance.

Ashby grinned. “She seems to feel I must ask your formal permission to pay my addresses to her.”

Miles’ eyebrows rose. “Does she indeed? Now why should that surprise me?”

Lucy blushed. “Don’t be disagreeable, dear Miles. You know perfectly well you like things done in the proper manner.”

“I do, yes. But it comes as a surprise to hear that you do too.” He turned to Ashby. “Is she suitably aware of the honor you do her?”

“Miles!” Lucy protested.

He fixed her with a reproachful look. “My dear girl, you come bursting in here, interrupting me in the middle of an extremely important discussion, just to—”

“Did I?” Her countenance brightened and she spun to face Phoebe. “Dear Miss Caldicot, pray say you will marry him. It would be the very thing.”

Phoebe clasped her hands before her. “I cannot possibly.”

Lucy’s face fell. “But—”

“He has not asked me.”

“Really, Miles.” She regarded him in exasperation. “Never did I think you to be such a slowtop. Whatever is keeping you?”

Miles, who had drawn his snuffbox from his pocket during this discussion, offered the box to Ashby then took an infinitesimal pinch himself. “Lack of opportunity.”

“Well of all the ridiculous things to say!” Lucy exclaimed. “When we left you in here until I could not bear the suspense a moment longer. Whatever have you been doing this last half hour and more?”

“Ashby,” Miles said, “unless you wish me to forbid the banns, you will oblige me by removing my sister.”

Ashby grinned. “Come along, Lucy.”

“But Simon!” Lucy stood her ground. “Only look how much time he has wasted. He will never get around to it if we don’t stay here to give him the nudge.”

“Ashby?” Miles’ voice took on a threatening note.

That gentleman took a firm grip on Lucy’s arm and dragged her from the room. At the threshold he turned back. “She has a point, you know,” he said then shut the door before Miles could say anything more.

Miles studied the door for a long minute as if he expected it to burst open once more. When it did not he gave a nod of satisfaction and turned back to Phoebe. “Now that we are rid of my tiresome sister we may finish our discussion.”

A soft growl sounded from the floor. Phoebe looked down to see the puppy working industriously on the toe of Miles’ evening slipper, his foot still in it. Obligingly he removed the shoe, handing it over to the delighted animal.

“You should not spoil her,” she protested.

“Managing,” he murmured. “Besides I am not spoiling her in the least. I merely wish to preserve my toes. And if you think Vines will ever permit that shoe into his care again after the mauling it has received you much mistake the matter.” He returned to her, placing his hands on her shoulders. “Can you overlook my meddling disposition?”

“It may cause a few arguments,” she admitted. “I am not one to be ridden over roughshod.”

“As I have already discovered.” The smile that lit his hazel eyes brightened. “But I couldn’t bear the thought of a wife who gave in to my every unreasonable demand. And Lucy will tell you I’m apt to make many of them.”

“I’ll keep you reasonable,” she promised. “And I shall also demand my own turns at managing.”

“Agreed.” He drew her close, his mouth once more seeking hers, his arms pressing her tight against him. His lips brushed her eyes, her forehead then returned to claim her mouth once more.

At last, her head resting against his shoulder, he said, “You needn’t worry about your brother. I believe I know of a living that should become available in two or three years. And if that does not work out there are one or two others I believe might be suitable for him.

A shaky laugh escaped her. “I should have known your family alone could not provide you with sufficient scope for your meddling. Do you manage the affairs of everyone you know as well?”