Potent Charms (34 page)

"My task remains the same."

Tewksbury walked forward, stopping a respectable two
feet from her. His blue eyes held compassion and understanding. No recrimination lingered in their depths. He
offered her a quiet smile. "In that case, there happens to be
a small country fair tomorrow. I would be honored if you
would accompany me."

Oh la, what to do? His request added to her already present confusion. She couldn't very well hide for the balance
of the weekend, and Stephen had more or less abandoned
her. She needed time alone to collect her thoughts and the
opportunity to reason with Stephen one last time. Then she
would decide what she would do.

She almost laughed. What could she do? Her choices
were few. "You've caught me quite by surprise. May I give
you my answer in the morning?"

"Of course." He draped her hand across his forearm.
"Now, I suggest we find our way back to the ballroom
before trouble finds you yet again tonight."

When she remembered Lemmer's words, revealing
Hildegard's role in his little scheme, her temper flared
anew. "Likely too late. I have something to say to my
aunt."

Phoebe easily spotted her aunt, who, thankfully, stood in
an alcove tucked away in the corner of the ballroom. Good.
Privacy suited the conversation to come. As she
approached, Phoebe realized Hildegard doted on an older
gentleman who hovered over Charity, who was busy feasting her eyes on Sir Ellwood.

Was this the infamous Lord Hadlin? A few stray hairs adorned the top of his bald pate, and thick, bushy eyebrows
lined his forehead like a furry caterpillar. He laid his hands
on top of his protruding belly and leered at Charity as
though she were a stick of peppermint. If this was Lord
Hadlin, it was no small wonder Charity found the thought
of marriage so unappealing.

Suddenly Hildegard's crimes grew even more horrified.
The woman cared for no one but herself; her obsessive
need for power and esteem had become the driving force
behind her actions. Phoebe almost felt sorry for the
woman. Almost.

She marched directly to Hildegard's side. "Pardon me,
but I need a word with you. Alone."

Phoebe's demand elicited varied reactions. Lord
Hadlin's eyes narrowed with disapproval, his caterpillar
brows burrowing even closer together. He said nothing as
he stomped away. Charity blinked several times, obviously
astonished by Phoebe's actions.

Hildegard squared her shoulders, wearing her dignity
like a shield. She opened her fan and furiously waved it
before her face. "You rude, ungrateful child."

Even though Phoebe wanted nothing more than to wring
her aunt's deceitful neck, she kept her voice calm. "My,
my, my. I see you found your fan."

"Actually, I did," announced Charity. "The fan was
beneath mother's dress all the time. She tried to find you
and tell you."

"That will be enough, Charity," snapped Hildegard, her
face beginning to flush.

"And who accompanied her?" asked Phoebe, all innocence and sweetness.

"Lord Renoke and Lord Milsip," Charity eagerly said.

"Imagine your surprise when you discovered the gallery
empty, neither Sir Lemmer nor myself anywhere to be
found."

After a moment's hesitation, Hildegard scanned the
crowded ballroom, the behavior the only confirmation of
the woman's sins that Phoebe needed. "You won't find
him," she said. "He fled to his room to nurse his bruises."

"Why would I care about Sir Lemmer's whereabouts?"

"That is a question I have asked myself repeatedly. He
mentioned a bargain of sorts. It had to be something of
great importance for him to sink to such disgraceful conduct."

Hildegard simply stared straight ahead, her face drawn
in a smug look.

Shifting her gaze from one woman to the other, Charity
finally stared at her mother. Sadness and understanding
filled her eyes. "What have you done now?"

"Mind your own business, you foolish girl."

"I don't think so, mother. Not this time."

Hildegard's lips twitched several times before she managed to find any words. Then she found a mouthful, her
fury directed at Phoebe. "Do you see what you've done?
This is your fault. Now my daughter displays insolence! I
won't have it."

"I'm pleased to witness the strides Charity has made. As
for me, I shall remove myself from your household shortly
and take up residence at Marsden Manor. If Charity
chooses, rather than marry an old fool you force on her, she
can live with me."

"Marsden Manor will never be yours, you ungrateful,
impertinent hellion! Had Lord Badrick not interfered, I
would already have everything I deserved."

Animosity rolled from Hildegard's body in waves.
Anger had certainly loosened her tongue. Determined to
discover all her aunt's secrets tonight, Phoebe assumed the
role of the accuser. "You lied to me about Marsden Manor,
didn't you? You knew about the debt all along. Did you
hope to pay the taxes yourself and make a claim?"

"It should have been mine all along. You might have
escaped tonight, but I shall persevere. Wait and see."

"Which brings us back to Sir Lemmer and your plan.
Unfortunately for you, Sir Lemmer has had a change of
heart."

"Impossible. The man wants a title and he shall have
yours"

"Is that what you promised him?" asked Phoebe.

Charity sighed. "Mother, you didn't." Shaking her head,
she said, "Phoebe, I'm so very sorry. I had no idea."

Hildegard snapped the closed fan across her daughter's
palm. "If I wish your interference, I will ask for it."

Color swamped Charity's cheeks and her eyes clouded
with tears. "I am not a child any longer, and I am sick to
death of your bitterness. It's obvious you failed in whatever it is you tried to do. Let Phoebe find a bit of happiness.
Mercy knows, there are so few people who ever do."

"Never. When no one comes sniffing with an offer, she
will gladly accept Lemmer's suit or be cast to the streets.
He will have his title and I will occupy Marsden Manor."

Any compassion Phoebe might have had vanished. "I
never realized how much you hated my mother and obviously me. She was kind and generous with qualities you'll
never understand. Grandfather loved her and you never
forgave him."

"He never gave me a chance," Hildegard spat.

"I wonder. I think you've been angry for so long, you no
longer recognize the truth." Suddenly exhausted by the
emotional upheaval of the night, Phoebe clasped her hands
in front of her. "I have ten days left to find a match, after
which you will never have to claim me as relative again.
Until then, leave me alone. I will not marry Sir Lemmer or
any man you push in my direction." She turned to Charity.
"Are you coming?"

Nodding, Charity joined Phoebe. They left Hildegard sputtering in the corner, wrapped in her own disbelief, rage
and frustration. Neither cared any longer.

"Which do you prefer?"

Phoebe smiled as Lord Tewksbury extended a garland of
pink and white wildflowers and a halo of bluebells toward
her. They were shopping at the fair. She gave both equal
consideration, then tipped her head to the side and studied
his face. "I think either would match your complexion,
although the bluebells accent your eyes quite nicely."

He laughed easily, a warm rumbling sound from deep in
his chest. It was a nice change, thought Phoebe, since
Stephen seemed more inclined to grumble most of the
time. She remembered Stephen's devilish grin, the twinkle
in his eye as he told the stories of his childhood, and she
knew she lied to herself. Those dark, brooding eyes, probing questions and penetrating gazes haunted her still.

"I meant for you, Miss Rafferty, and well you know it."

"In that case, I think the bluebells."

He balanced the wreath of flowers on her head.
"Lovely."

"Thank you." Uncomfortable with the praise she knew
he sincerely meant, she crossed to the next cart and toyed
with a lace scarf. She sensed his gaze as he studied her
from behind and fought the urge to straighten her spine.
She had no reason to question the man's behavior. He had
been nothing less than a perfect gentleman all morning. In
fact, if she stopped worrying about Stephen, she might
even enjoy herself. Determined to enjoy the sunshine, the
laughter and the excitement of the festivities surrounding
her, even the company of her companion, she smiled
brightly and whirled about. "We've talked about me all
morning, Lord Tewksbury. I insist you tell me about yourself."

"What do you wish to know?"

"Whatever you wish to tell me."

"I imagine you know I've been married before." Walking beside Phoebe, he locked his hands behind his back,
his eyes focused on the ground. "Miriam died three years
ago. I also have a daughter, Meredith. Her nickname is
Bliss. She is seven, and she bowls through life without a
care, heedless of danger. I love her to distraction, yet fear I
shall age beyond my time much sooner than my due."

"I confess we met the night of your party. She's delightful."

He looked thoughtful. "Yes, I suspected you would
appreciate her disposition."

"In a world run predominately by men for men, I believe
a young girl had best reach and grasp whatever she can
while she can." When Tewksbury abruptly stopped, she
glanced to the brightly woven shawls folded over a
wooden rack, then back to his face. She searched his eyes
for any sign of anger or reproach and found none. "That
must sound horribly insensible and single-minded."

"Does malice control the whim?"

"No. Only the desire that women should have a say in
their own lives."

Grasping her hand, he draped it across his forearm, and
they continued to stroll through the merchants hawking
their wares. "Considering what I know about your circumstance, I certainly understand why you might feel that
way."

Passing a silversmith, Tewksbury bought a silver rose
pendant for his daughter. They circled a juggler tossing
four colored balls in the air as he whistled a jolly tune.

She stopped them for a moment to buy a purple length
of ribbon for Charity, who remained a captive of Hildegard's at Payley Park. All the while, they shared stories and
bits and pieces of their lives with each other. In fact, it surprised Phoebe just how easy it was to talk with Lord Tewksbury. Eventually they moved to the shade of a large
elm, where they sat to share a berry pie and wine they purchased from a shopkeeper.

Phoebe sat with her legs tucked beneath her dress on the
blanket Lord Tewksbury retrieved from the carriage. He
leaned against the rock a good foot from her with one leg
bent, his arm casually draped across his knee. She nibbled
on the pie and waited. It seemed Lord Tewksbury had
something on his mind.

"Miss Rafferty, I know no subtle way to say this. You
need a husband. I want a wife. I realize we hardly know
one another, but time is of the essence. I would like to take
this next week to determine our possible suitability."

She watched him through lowered lashes. He was certainly a handsome man. Likeable, jovial, although a tad
reserved. However, she felt no tingling in her limbs, no
rapid beating of her heart, no ache in the pit of her stomach. But neither was she repulsed or annoyed by his company. They seemed to share a comfortable ease and he did
offer her the solution she needed.

She waited for a surge of joy or even relief. Instead, she
felt frightened and confused. She wanted Stephen,
dreamed of hearing those same words from him.

"I imagine any number of British ladies would vie for
your attentions. Why me?"

Deftly twirling a thin reed in his slender fingers, he kept
his gaze locked on the stem as if the answers to her question lay therein. "For one, I find you attractive. A plus, I
think, for a husband and wife. I believe you to be honest,
forthright and kind. You seem to be intelligent, therefore
our time spent together would not be lost to vapid conversations. In truth, I like you."

"That's all well and good, but unless you have to...I
mean.. .why would you be willing to marry me without
knowing whether or not we" she finally blurted out the question foremost on her mind "I don't love you and you
don't love me. Why would you marry under such circumstances?"

"I deeply loved Miriam. When she died, I struggled for a
goodly time. I miss her still."

"Again, I ask. Why marry?"

"To be truthful, I prefer not to lose my heart again. I do
not want the soul-searing love I experienced with my first
wife. I need an heir and Bliss needs a mother. I think you
would suit perfectly. I ask you, does that sound insensible
and single-minded?"

"No. Merely honest." Her fingers toyed with a loose
string on the cuff of her jacket. "Since you witnessed that
little scene with Stephen last night, you surely must realize
where my heart lies. And yet you are willing to court me?"

"Stephen must chose his own path. I will not ask you to
dismiss him at this point, only that you give my offer consideration and when the time comes to make a decision
you tell me the truth."

The money owed Stephen for repairs to Marsden Manor
stuck in her throat like a chicken bone. Tewksbury needed
to know the entire situation before any decision was made.
"There is one last thing. My estate was in need of funds. I
borrowed two thousand pounds from Lord Badrick."

His gaze followed the activity of a juggler entertaining a
group of children. "Miss Rafferty," he said, his manner offhand. "Money is of little importance. If you and I come to
some sort of agreement, I shall settle the matter with
Badrick."

His offer was too generous by far. Knowing she might
not ever receive such a proposal from Stephen, she would
be foolish to refuse Lord Tewksbury's request. "Then, I
guess, kind sir, my answer would have to be yes."