Lady in Demand (8 page)

“I’m a woman,” she said, and had no idea why.

“So you are, and as such isn’t it your job to pour my tea?”

Livvy and Bella giggled as Phoebe finally raised her eyes.

“I won’t let you down, Will.”

“I know.”

Her hands trembled, but she managed to pour the tea and they chatted about nothing and everything for awhile as she got her thoughts under control. It had been a day of surprises, wonderful surprises, and the excitement inside Phoebe told her it had been far too long since she had felt this way.

“Will I be able to bring Hannah to visit your warehouses tomorrow, Will?”

“Absolutely.”

It was all so simple to him. She was family, therefore he said yes. No if’s or buts. Just a simple, ‘absolutely.’

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome again.” His eyes twinkled and Phoebe wondered if she would ever find a man like William Ryder to love her.
 

      Lord and Lady Harrington’s little musical was a horrid crush which made Phoebe irritable, because she had been in an excellent mood before arriving. Having spent two enjoyable hours in her room sketching designs for Hannah and Alex, and making lists and devising plans for there business, she had not wanted to leave, but Livvy had insisted.

This room was hot, smelled of hundreds of different scents and the decorations were ostentatious and silly. Standing beside Livvy, she wondered how her pregnant sister could cope with the smell of so many bodies in a small space as it was making her nauseous. Pressing her back to the wall, she stood on her toes to accommodate a man juggling two glasses who was trying to pass. Hopefully, Hannah or Alex would arrive soon and she could chat to them. No, not Alex. They could only exchange social chatter for fear his brothers learned what he was doing.
 

      “Stop frowning. You look fierce, Phoebe.”

      Easing her expression at her sister’s prompting, Phoebe ignored the pang of guilt at keeping Alexander Hetherington’s involvement in their business a secret. He had a right to do as he wished, and if his interest lay in fashion then who was she to fault him, as hers laid in fashion and riding tricks on horseback. She shuddered at the thought of how Lord Levermarch would react if he found out, as she was sure he was not a man who would like his brother investing in the fashion industry. She felt a bit uncomfortable deceiving him, yet Alex had made her and Hannah promise they would say nothing to anyone about his involvement. He had also reiterated several times that he wanted Viscount Levermarch to remain unaware.

      “Why must people say they are having a little gathering and then set about squashing a hundred people into a space big enough for fifty?”

      Livvy patted her shoulder. “The music will start soon, dear, and then some of the guests will take seats and others will find amusements.”

      Looking up, she noted a huge cherub suspended from the ceiling. Around its neck was a pink satin bow.

      “Does Lady Harrington really believe that a cherub with a pink bow is a point of difference?”

      “You were in fine spirits this afternoon, Phoebe, and now you appear out of sorts tonight. Care to tell me why? It cannot just be the crush, because even though it is your first season, you have experienced many of them already and would usually be giggling at that ridiculous cherub, not scowling, which by the way is not flattering even on you.”

       
Phoebe wasn’t actually sure why she was out of sorts when previously she had been so happy. Perhaps it was that she was filled with plans and wanted to be in her room putting them on paper, or that she had no wish to converse with shallow people as it seemed such a waste of time now she had better things to fill it with. Of course she would also have to face Lord Levermarch again and she had been petty this morning, as he had said she was, blaming him for her fall was unfair, when in all honesty it had not been his fault. Had her balance been better, she would have been able to handle the distraction of him calling out to her.
 

      She had expected him to yell at her yet he had not. Instead, he had been gentle. Phoebe could still feel his hands touching her wrist, his long warm fingers stroking her skin. His intent had been to help her if he could, and she had been rude to him, which meant she should probably apologize again, and this time it should be sincere. Phoebe hated apologizing.

      “Phoebe, you have not answered me. Why are you grumpy?”

“Why are you haranguing your sister, darling?” Will appeared before them. He moved closer to Livvy and eased her away from the wall slightly so he could slip his arm around her. Phoebe had noticed that they always seemed to be touching each other.

      “I was merely asking why she was so out of sorts, Will. See the frown line there?” Livvy added pointing to Phoebe’s forehead. “That means something’s bothering her.”
 

      Now she was subjected to two sets of steady eyes, one gray, the other cinnamon, both equally as unnerving.
 

      “Is pointing at a person’s forehead considered polite when in company?” Phoebe said, stalling.

      “She’s not about to give in, Phoebe, you and I both know that, so I would just confess and be done with it. Besides which, you spent the afternoon laughing and singing in your room, so this mood change is quite sudden.”

      Phoebe knew Will was right, so she sighed loudly to let her sister know she was not pleased.
 

      “I’m just tired, Livvy.” Phoebe avoided her sister’s eyes and looked at the cherub above her.

      “Of what?’

      Phoebe blew out a loud breath before answering.
 

      “I’m just feeling as if my time would be better spent at home making plans rather than observing social niceties this evening. Can you not allow me to wallow a bit?”
 

      “Why else are you wallowing? That is not the only reason.”

      “Yes it is,” Phoebe snapped.

      Livvy thought about that briefly before saying, “You’ve never been a wallower.”

      “Is that a word?” Will’s brow wrinkled.

      Livvy patted her husband’s chest. “Yes, it is now.”

      Together they both then returned their eyes to Phoebe.

      “It’s hardly fair I have to deal with both of you now. Livvy was bad enough.” Phoebe tried to make light of the moment, but they didn’t smile.

      “Has someone upset you this evening, Phoebe? Do I need to pummel someone in my new capacity as your brother, because believe me, I am more than equal to the task.”

      “Heart warming though that statement is, I can do my own pummeling. Thank you, Will.”
 

      “And whom are you going to pummel?” Livvy inquired.

      “You, if you don’t shut up!”

      “Ah, now there is my sweet gentle sister.”

      Phoebe didn’t respond, she just glared at them both. It was going to be a long and arduous evening. She could just feel it, not to mention the effort she would need to expend to avoid bloody Lord Levermarch.

Finn and his brothers arrived at the musical late. He walked into the room, nodding to acquaintances as his eyes did a sweep of the room. He saw Lady Croxley offer him a shy smile and returned it. She would make an excellent viscountess with her gentle ways and soft spoken manner.

“Do either of you know Lady Croxley very well?”

Ben visibly shuddered and Alex’s lips pursed.

“What?” Finn queried, not liking their reaction to his question.

“Woman’s about as appealing as a piece of ten day old cake.”

“What the hell does that mean?”
 

Alex tilted his head one way as Ben titled his the other.

“Strike her off your list,” they both said in unison.

“Why? She’s well breed and well mannered. Her qualities are everything I should look for in my future wife.”
      “It’s only skin deep, Finn, trust us on this. The woman is a venomous harpy.”

“Rubbish. I would have heard if she was. You’re both being foolish.” Finn dismissed their comments.

“You asked us and we told you. Be it on your head should you ignore our warnings.” Alex looked disgusted. “And just so we’re straight, I nearly took you today, Finn. A few more minutes would have made all the difference.”

“No it wouldn’t, Alex, and you know it,” Finn said, doing another, slower survey of the room. “You couldn’t beat me even if I was fencing one-handed.”

“I nearly had you, Finn. Everyone knows it.”

“Bring me one person who knows it,” Finn said, looking for Will, who would probably have Olivia and possibly Phoebe at his side. He would dance with Lady Croxley later, he thought, dismissing his brother’s valuations of her character. Not that he specifically wanted to see Phoebe; however, he would like to see how her injuries were after this morning. He wondered if Will had told her of their conversation about him seeing her fall.

Alex hemmed and hawed for several seconds before saying, “Ben.”

“Ben is not a reliable source. He will lie for a pittance,” Finn said, straightening his cuffs as he prepared to leave his brothers. “Find someone reputable that was at Angelo’s today who actually believes your wild allegations, Alex, and I will listen.”

“You’re a hard man, Finn.”

“You and your brother behave yourselves this evening,” he said. “And remember that I have set up an appointment with the investors tomorrow; therefore, please make sure you are not home too late.”

“I’ve told you I have no wish to invest in the locomotive industry, Finn. Why will you not listen?”

“It will cost you nothing to hear what the man has to say, Alex,” Finn said, forcing a smile onto his face before walking away and leaving them scowling after him.

 
Finn then spent thirty minutes talking to people as he walked around the room, pretending not to search for Phoebe, until finally locating her standing with Olivia and Will, which suited him because Will was a friend and he had every right to approach.
 

They appeared deep in conversation and Phoebe was looking at the ceiling, showing him the pale silken length of her neck. He had an urge to place his lips at the base and hold them there while he breathed in her scent.
 

Why did he think these thoughts constantly when he was in her company?

      “Good evening, Miss Langley, Olivia, Will.”

      “Finn, we were just commenting on the cherub and how well the pink satin bow suits him.”

      Following his friend’s eye, as they looked upwards, he located the cherub.
 

      “Foolishness.” He dismissed the cherub.

      She didn’t look at him, not even when she curtsied; her eyes were trained on his waistcoat buttons. He couldn’t say what was different about her tonight, yet something was. She’d lost some of her sparkle. Wrapped in the palest gold, she was still the most beautiful woman present but her eyes lacked luster and he hoped she wasn’t suffering as a result of her fall. He saw a bruise had formed on her face that he had not noted earlier. Should she have come out this evening if she was in pain?

      “Lady Harrington is signaling us. It seems we are to take our seats.”

      “Excellent. You know how I enjoy music, my love.” Will took his wife’s arm as she scoffed over his obvious lie, and led her to the seats set out before the stage, leaving Phoebe to follow on Finn’s arm.
 

      She kept her body as far away from him as she could and he had the feeling that if she could raise her arm a few inches without anyone noticing, she would do that, too. Something was definitely bothering her this evening, Finn wondered what it was.

      “Would you care for a program, Miss Langley?”

      She shook her head as she took her seat, keeping her eyes on the stage. Beside her sat Will, and beyond him, Olivia.

      “I believe we are in for a wonderful evening, Miss Langley, Miss Harrington has procured the renowned pianist Vladimir Klaukost to accompany Madame Picuoult.”

      She didn’t speak so he simply kept talking, keeping his eyes on her side profile.

      “I understand at his last concert Klaukost made the Duchess of Breveal faint because she was so overawed by his playing. Unfortunately, she fell backwards onto Major Holliander, who I believe was not paying attention, and called her a bumbling fool. It is my understanding the Duke of Breveal then took exception to this insult to his beloved and, being a bit of a hot head, he swung a fist at the Major. Unfortunately, it missed and connected with Miss Holden who was so incensed to have spilled her glass of…”

      “You’re making that up!”

      She was looking at him now.

      “Are you calling me a liar, Miss Langley? For shame.”

      She sighed. “No, I would never go so far as to call you a liar, my lord. And I have been sitting here as you made up that ridiculous story, wondering how I am to apologize to you for my behavior this morning.”