Potent Charms (35 page)

"You going to prune that bush or hack it to pieces?" Nanny
Dee asked as she wiped her forehead with the back of her
hand.

Witnessing the carnage at her feet, Phoebe winced.
Leaves and stems lay strewn about her feet, wilted petals
witness to the massacre. A red rose, the lone survivor of the
attack, swayed in the gentle breeze as if in surrender.
Hildegard's favorite bush now resembled a one-armed
scarecrow.

It was no small wonder, thought Phoebe. She was a jumble of nerves. She had been since her return from Payley
Park, when Lord Tewksbury had begun to court her.
Stephen remained conspicuously absent. "I don't know
why I'm behaving like such a ninny."

Dee arched one black brow. Her hands kept busy weeding a small patch of violets.

"All right, I do know," Phoebe said. "But it's so silly. I should be overcome with joy. Lord Tewksbury is everything I sought in a husband when I came to England. He's
gentle and kind and seems devoted to me." She started to
snip at a nearby bush, realized her intent and quickly lay
the pruning shears on the stone bench beside her. The
plants deserved no further abuse. She stood and paced back
and forth on the pebbled path. "He's intelligent, appreciates the fact I can cipher and read, and he wants children as
I do. I'll never want for anything."

"Who you trying to convince, child?"

Unable to ignore Dee's directness, or the feelings in her
own heart, Phoebe dropped to the bench. With her shoulders slumped, she rested her elbow on her knee, her hand
tucked beneath her chin. "If I accept Stephen's offer I'd
have his protection, but for how long? I've lived with
uncertainty all my life. However can I knowingly enter the
same situation again? Is it so wrong to want a home and
children?"

"You already know the answer to that, child."

"I called Stephen a coward. I'm a coward as well. Even
if I could get beyond the uncertainty of my future with
him, I don't think my pride could abide the whispering
behind my back, the stares or the pity. I experienced
enough of that back home." Thinking of Stephen, she
ripped a small daisy from a nearby patch and shredded it in
her hands. "Why on earth did I have to meet the likes of
Stephen Badrick, anyway?"

Dee sat back on her heels and sighed. "Some men are
like a stone wall. It takes a whole lot of rocks to build.
Some of those rocks might be stacked year after year. Once
it's done, it takes a heap of strength to move or destroy that
wall. Some men can, some men can't."

"I'm not sure I understand."

"Your past is what you are today. It takes more strength to change a lifetime of action than most people think. It's
more comfortable to do what we know. And changing
even if we're unhappy is mighty hard."

Nanny Dee held up her hand and continued. "If n you
decide to choose to be Lord Badrick's mistress, that pride
of yours will see you through, but you make dam sure you
can live with yourself. There won't be any going back, and
there's no guarantee of how long he'll stay or how long
you'll love. Life ain't like that. You just gotta make your
choice and believe that you're in God's pocket."

Pulling the worn pair of gloves from her hands, Dee
pushed herself to her feet. She lifted a callused palm to
Phoebe's cheek and smiled with tenderness. "I loved you
and raised you since the day you was born, teaching you as
best I could. I know it's hard to think clearly right now, but
look beyond today and tomorrow. I think you'll find your
answers. I'll be inside if n you need me. Don't dally too
long, you got that museum party later."

In that moment, sitting there alone, Phoebe understood
what Dee meant. Because of his past, Stephen feared his
future. She was no different. The instability of her childhood influenced her own decisions. More importantly, she
knew her wants had shifted without her even knowing it.

Her original plan had seemed so clear to her when she
arrived in England. But Stephen had awakened all sorts of
unexpected stirrings. Suddenly, she wanted someone to
love and return her love.

But, if that wasn't possible, she'd accept the next best
thing, a ring, a wedding, a husband, a son or daughter and
a home.

"By Queen Mary's crown," Elizabeth muttered impatiently. "You stare at her when she's not staring at you and
she stares at you when you're not staring at her. You are
behaving like dunderheaded fool. Tell me what happened."

Although he wasn't truly concentrating on the artifacts
before him, Stephen kept his eyes fixed on the marble
frieze lest Elizabeth think he was actually listening to what
she had to say. Once he uttered one word, a single syllable,
Elizabeth would probe and wheedle like the worst of busybodies until the entire story unfolded.

Having accompanied her and Winston to this special
exhibition of the Greek marble from the Parthenon, he
wished he had lingered at home in his self-induced isolation. He never would have come had he thought for a
moment that Phoebe might be here. And she wasn't alone.
Lord Tewksbury served as her escort. Foolish or not, refusing to allow Phoebe Rafferty one whit of satisfaction by
revealing the extent of his annoyance, he swore to ignore
the woman. In fact, he'd ignore both women.

"Stephen," said Elizabeth, using that patronizing I'mnot-finished tone of voice. "Since Winston's party, when
you so rudely and unexpectedly departed a day early without so much as a by-your-leave, you have hidden yourself
away. Now you and Phoebe seem to barely abide one
another's company. And what did you do to Sir Lemmer?
The doctor said he'd broken a rib and his nose. Something
happened and I want to know what."

Since Winston seemed content to let his wife badger
him, Stephen remained stoically silent. He would gawk at
this highly prized collection of Lord Elgin's, offer an opinion or two of his own, then leave at the first possible opportunity. He watched Tewksbury place a guiding hand on
Phoebe's elbow; the man spoke far too closely to her ear to
be at all proper. Her carefree laugh carried above the din of
conversation in the already ridiculously crowded museum
gallery.

Not just carefree, thought Stephen, her laughter was
downright cheerful. A red haze flashed before his eyes.
Knots the size of small cannonballs formed in his stomach He clenched his hands at his sides. What right did she have
to be so bloody feckless while he stewed in a foul temper-as he had for the four days since he'd lain with her?

Good heavens, the thought of doing so again and again
seemed to consume every moment of his day, sleeping or
waking. And she had declared her affection for him, yet
she appeared here with another man. No wonder he was
irritable.

Elizabeth stepped directly in front of Winston, who concentrated on the marble slab nearby. It was decorated with
maidens carrying sacrificial vessels. "Don't just stand
there. Do something."

"What precisely do you suggest, darling? That I whisk
Stephen and Phoebe away from here, confine them in a
room at our home and summon the vicar?"

"Is someone to marry?" Rhys asked as he joined the
small group. "If it is one of my friends, I hope I receive an
invitation."

Stephen grabbed the opportunity to change topics like a
lifeline in a stormy sea. "Rhys. What the devil are you
doing here?"

"My life as a wanderer is officially over."

"It's about bloody time you claimed your title."

"I had little choice. I could not allow my scoundrel
cousin to inherit. Didn't Winston tell you?"

Grumbling a moment or two, Stephen admitted, "I've
been unavailable lately."

"You've been hiding," Elizabeth added.

"I've been forced to hide from interfering females who
refuse to allow a man a moment's peace."

Rhys crossed his arms. "It seems there is a story here, if
someone would like to tell me. I have a peculiar feeling it
involves the redhead I saw on the arm of Tewksbury."

"Perhaps you," Elizabeth explained, "can convince this
befogged imbecile that he is making a horrendous error in judgment; that the best thing we could do since he seems
determined to ruin his one chance at happiness is hire a
vicar and force him to marry Phoebe. She is a perfect
match even if he is too stubborn to realize it. If we rely on
him, he'll ruin everything. And what of an heir? He needs
children of his own."

"Unlike you, darling," Winston interjected, "not everyone is thrilled with the thought of tiny creatures underfoot.
It is his life and he is a man full grown, capable of making
his own decisions, foolish or not. Whether he wishes to
marry or not, continue the line or not, it is his choice. Not
yours. Not mine."

"Besides," Rhys added. "The man's as stubborn as a tick
on a hound's ear. I doubt you could force him to do anything he chose not to. I failed once myself."

If one more person called him a fool or such, he might
have to hit them. They had taken to discussing him as if he
weren't there. Feeling like a stallion on the auction block at
Tattersall's, Stephen cleared his throat. He cast a baleful
glare at Elizabeth. "Would you like to examine my feet, or
perhaps my hindquarters?" He curled his lips. "How about
my teeth?"

"He speaks," Elizabeth said, slapping her hand against
her cheek and widening her eyes in mock surprise.

"I was waiting for a notable topic. None seem to be
forthcoming. Until then I shall ply my attentions elsewhere. Understood?"

Elizabeth showed no sign of retreat. She was becoming
as single-minded as Phoebe. Showing her his shoulder
once again, Stephen asked Winston, "What do you think of
Lord Elgin's coup? I wonder if Napoleon ever regretted not
purchasing them for France?"

"Probably not," Winston eagerly said, obviously content
to change topics. "What do you think, Rhys?"

"Granted, they are rather old, but I certainly do not see them as a great investment. Someone said the government
paid Elgin less cash than he extended for the retrieval of
the marbles from the bottom of the ocean."

"Perhaps, ,tis why some people have called them Elgin's
folly," added Stephen. "But alas, Elgin shall have his name
immortalized along with the stones."

Elizabeth once again marched in front of all three men.
"Enough. This idle chatter will not alter my course. I want
to know what you intend to do about Phoebe."

None of them acknowledged her demand. Suddenly her
expression shifted. Self-declared victory shone in her eyes.
If Stephen hadn't known better, he would have sworn she
knew something he didn't.

"Why Stephen, look who's here. Miss Rafferty and Lord
Tewksbury." She shifted to the side of the little group,
extended her arms in greeting, and kissed Phoebe on the
cheek as all three heads swiveled about. "We were just
talking about you."

Elizabeth was practically crowing. She would dangle by
her slipper strings before the end of the day if Stephen had
any say about her interference. Winston wasn't helping
matters, either. The least he could do was offer a reprimand
or two, but no, he participated in the innocuous greetings.
Rhys simply grinned like a court jester. He was pleased to
see Phoebe again after their last encounter, and he was
eagerly telling her so. Stephen pasted a bored expression on
his face and nodded, valiantly trying yet unable to ignore
the scent of lilacs clinging to Phoebe's skin, the rosy blush
that adorned her cheeks, the fullness of the same lips that
had welcomed his kisses. He also noted the wariness in her
vibrant green eyes.

She had reason to wonder what he might do. He'd sent
her flowers. She'd returned them. He'd sent her a pearl
necklace. She'd returned it. She'd never bothered with the simple courtesy of a note. Now he knew why. She was too
busy fawning over Tewksbury to respond. Fine!

She had five days left before she needed a wedding band
on her finger. Stephen would not relent, could not relent.
She'd said she loved him. Didn't that mean she belonged to
him? Perhaps she needed a reminder. "It appears, Miss
Rafferty, that you have a fondness for antiquities. I remember your appreciation of old Roman fortresses. Our discussion was illuminating. In fact, quite stimulating."

"Hmmm." Phoebe sighed as she watched the predatory
gleam flare in his eyes. She had hoped to avoid Stephen
tonight. Elizabeth had other ideas. And now the wretch
wanted to play word games. Phoebe's wariness quickly
shifted to discomfort as she remembered that particular
discussion, one that had shown her the stars.

During the past week, she'd thought of little else but his
gentle caresses and magical kisses, the way her body had
sung at his touch. Shaking her head as though confused,
she said, "I do recollect that event, sir, and regard the
moment with fondness... and regret."

"Regret?" snapped Stephen, his expression fierce, his
brows knitted together.

Yes, she wanted to shout. She regretted that private
moment and all the others they had shared, for now his
touch haunted her. "Indeed. It's a pity your opinion on the
subject and mine differ so greatly. If you'll excuse us now,
Lord Tewksbury and I are playing whist with friends this
afternoon."