The Seduction of Lady Phoebe (29 page)

She shrugged. “No, I’ve not given it any thought.”

Her aunt hesitated for a moment. “I ask because you will need to decide whether to reside with Lord and Lady Dunwood, or have your own home. Henry had a country estate given to the heir, but when in Town, we were expected to live with his parents.” Aunt Ester glanced at her husband. “I will tell you it was not a happy experience. In the end, we bought a small townhouse.”

Marcus listened with a furrowed brow. He’d spoken many times of having his own house and Phoebe needed a home of her own to manage. He would not have her remain in the position she was now. “Mamma, Papa, what do you wish?”

His father raised his brows. “The Dunwood heir has always lived at Charteries, our principal estate.” Gazing at Marcus, he paused. “I would like to retire from managing the estate. In that respect, I think your mother and I agree. I propose we give over the part of one wing of the house to you and Phoebe. Isabel, what say you?”

Her face lit up. “I would dearly love to give over the management of the Charteries to you, my dear Phoebe. We have been, for so long, tied to the estate due both to family and the war.” Mamma glanced lovingly at her husband. “As the Corsican is now imprisoned, I would like to travel a little.”

Dunwood regarded Marcus and said gruffly, “You have made a very good start in becoming conversant with the estate and the political issues.” Papa sighed. “I have no doubt you will be on the more progressive side of the party. Phoebe will be a great help to you.”

Dunwood looked at his wife and back to Marcus. “I’ll give you my proxy when I am not in Town for a vote.”

His mother smiled. “The townhouse will also be left to your management, Phoebe, if you don’t mind?”

Phoebe returned her future mother-in-law’s smile. “I don’t mind at all. Tell me, what are the plans for Arthur’s daughters? Do you, ma’am, wish to raise them, or shall Marcus and I act
in loco parentis?
Who will be appointed guardian and trustee?”

Before his mother could reply, Marcus touched her shoulder. “Phoebe, my love, are you sure you want to care for two young girls?”

Phoebe took his hand. “Marcus, they will be both motherless and fatherless. How could I not want them?” She grinned. “Aside from that, you told me I should like them.”

He nodded and his voice was low. “That was before I knew you so well. You will love them and they you.”

Lady Dunwood’s eyes swam in tears. “I love being their grandmother, but I think they need a younger woman as a mother and a model.”

“Then that is settled. Marcus and I will treat them as our children,” Phoebe replied.

Marcus did not know how he’d come to be so lucky. Perhaps the only good thing he’d done eight years ago was to fall in love with this remarkable woman.

That afternoon, the families celebrated Phoebe’s birthday. She received the children’s gifts, exclaiming delightedly over their handiwork. Pleased to have their presents admired so much, the children led the way to the birthday cake, holding Phoebe’s hands and skirts. Afterward, their parents, Marcus, and she played games with the children, until her nieces and nephews were led away to the nursery.

The adults lounged in their chairs on the terrace, enjoying the rare warm afternoon. Tea and other refreshments arrived as Phoebe received gifts from her sisters.

Marcus handed her a long, thin, plainly wrapped package.

Phoebe glanced at him and wondered what it was.

He grinned. “You will have to open it to find out.”

She found her fingers trembled a bit. Other than the ring, this was the first actual present he’d ever given her.

Inside the wrappings was a pretty but lethal-looking double-edged lady’s dagger. It had an elegant bone handle decorated in gold wire that formed a swirling design and a small, flat, ornate pommel. The blade was about six inches long. She remembered their conversation and smiled broadly. “Marcus, thank you. It’s beautiful.”

John inspected the dagger. “Unless you’d visited Manton’s or Tattersall’s, you could not have selected a better gift for Phoebe.”

Marcus looked at John gravely. “After seeing Phoebe’s horses, I would not take it upon myself to choose for her. Now, a pistol I could probably manage.”

Fairport lifted his glass. “Good decision. She always seems to have the best cattle in the family. Indeed, Marcus, you have now shown yourself to be worthy of a Stanhope bride. All wives deserve to be well armed.”

“So I’ve heard,” retorted Marcus, laughing as Fairport pulled a face, obviously remembering when he and Hermione had been waylaid, and she’d saved them with her own pistol.

Geoffrey had a wicked look in his eye. “Marcus, you’d better take care that she doesn’t use it on you.”

Amabel primly added, “You will have to be a model husband.”

“My dear sister, that was never in question.”

The older members of the party regarded them with amused grins.

Lord Dunwood shook his head. “I had no idea what a bloodthirsty family you were marrying into, my boy.”

Geoffrey responded, “Not bloodthirsty, sir.” He glanced at his sisters proudly. “Only well able to defend themselves.”

Lord Dunwood’s lips twitched. “Amabel, my girl, have they corrupted you as well?”

She glanced up demurely. “No, Papa. I shall rely upon my husband to defend me.”

“In that case you’d better take lessons,” Hester scoffed.

The twins ignored Geoffrey as he protested, but Phoebe grinned at her brother. “That reminds me. I don’t think I ever thanked you for showing me that upper cut.”

Narrowing his eyes at Geoffrey, Marcus said, “So you’re who I have to thank for it, Cranbourne.”

Geoffrey’s eyes twinkled. “Indeed.”

Hester and Hermione inspected the dagger and exclaimed over it. Phoebe asked Marcus, “When will you teach me how to use it?” “If no one minds, we can have your first lesson now if you wish.”

“I don’t think anyone will object.” Phoebe waited and, as she suspected, Hermione, Hester, and their aunt all agreed that they were extremely interested in learning this new form of combat.

Phoebe listened intently as Marcus first showed them the balance of the dagger without its scabbard. He gave it to her, and she held it, becoming used to the feel.

Then he explained the fine points of how a knife could be used to enter a body to cause the most damage. Some of what he’d said—such as how to avoid hitting a bone and how to assure that the knife isn’t taken away by an opponent—Phoebe had learned when training with a short sword. When they began practicing, the most difficult move for her to remember was to press in with the knife, once the cut had been made, rather than jumping back as she did with a sword.

Her sisters and aunt cheered her on, before each had her turn.

Though very interested, Phoebe had trouble envisioning how one might employ it if attacked. “Marcus, when would one use a dagger?”

Marcus motioned to the knife. “Unlike a small sword or a pistol, a dagger can be concealed on one’s person, making it readily accessible in the event of need.” He glanced at her sisters. “A lady can strap a dagger to her leg and access it through a pocket slit in the skirts. Ladies who wear boots tuck them there. It takes some practice to draw the dagger out in a hurry, but, I’ve been told, it is well worth the effort.”

Hester stared at the dagger still in Phoebe’s hand and pursed her lips. “If we can have our maids alter at least one gown, we can practice to-morrow.”

“But will it ruin the line of the gown?” Hermione frowned. Phoebe grinned. Hermione had always been the most style conscious of the sisters.

Rising, Phoebe said, “We won’t know until we try.”

Excusing themselves and sending for their maids, the ladies left their men on the terrace.

Amabel, Lady St. Eth, and Lord and Lady Dunwood also decided to go inside. Marcus with his future brothers-in-law and St. Eth remained.

John scowled. “Finley, I take leave to inform you that, due to you, my wife will insist on having a dagger strapped to her leg at all times. Boadicea to the life. I sincerely hope she doesn’t decide to use it on me.”

Geoffrey gave a bark of laughter. “You’re fortunate she is very sensible.”

Edwin said, funning with Marcus, “
I
only hope Hermione decides it ruins the line of her gown.” He took a sip of wine and asked, “What made you decide a dagger would be a good gift for Phoebe?”

Marcus really didn’t want to tell them. Her protection was now his responsibility. Trying to pass it off lightly, he responded, “Geoffrey told me she liked self-defense. I’d mentioned to her that it was a good weapon, and she seemed interested.”

Edwin and John lifted their brows.

Well that diversion didn’t work. “Oh, very well. I have a feeling that won’t leave me, that she may be in danger and need it.” Marcus’s jaw clenched. “I will tell you what I’ve discovered about Lord Travenor.”

Their teasing stopped. Marcus related what his contacts discovered. “You know that his cousin was found murdered in one of the slums. As the baron’s heir, some suspicion fell on Travenor, but nothing could be proved. His reputation is that of a rough man, much addicted to gaming and ready to sport his canvas. The women he’s been with have not fared well.”

Marcus walked to the cart and poured a glass of wine. “Before Travenor inherited, he never had a feather to fly with, but he always managed to come up with the money he needed. Although none of my contacts would venture a guess as to how he did it, one of them did say that for several years there were more reports of a gentleman highway robber around the Bristol area. He disappeared a few months ago, around the time of the baron’s death.”

Marcus made the decision to tell them the rest of it. “Travenor may very well blame me for his previous financial problems. Five years ago, I was instrumental in breaking up a smuggling gang. Travenor was one of the investors and lost everything. If he seeks to avenge himself on me, he could try to use Phoebe.”

John rubbed his chin. “His upbringing and subsequent behavior would explain why we thought his manners very odd. Curst rum touch.”

Geoffrey nodded. “He’ll bear watching, if he is after Phoebe.”

St. Eth glanced at Marcus. “Have you told her?”

“Not yet. I only recently received the information.”

St. Eth’s gaze was steady. “We’ll leave it to you to discuss it with her.”

Marcus nodded, understanding the implied command to do so quickly. The idea of telling Phoebe that due to him, Travenor could be a threat to her, didn’t bear thinking of. He was terrified it would cause a wedge between them. She’d be, rightfully, upset that she was in danger. He’d promised to keep her safe, to protect her, and he would do just that.

Chapter Nineteen

L
ater that night, lying sated in Marcus’s arms, Phoebe mulled over their future living arrangements. She cuddled closer to his warm body. “I think our housing arrangements will work. Do you?”

He heaved a sigh. “Yes. I had my doubts, but I believe my parents are in earnest. At least, I know Mamma is.” Marcus nuzzled Phoebe’s hair. “Mary, Arthur’s wife, dying as she did, and now Arthur, have been a great strain on my mother. She tries not to show it, but she’s exhausted. As to my father?” Marcus grimaced. “We’ll see if he can give up his politics. It is his life’s blood.”

Phoebe twisted around to be able to see Marcus more clearly. “Would you be very disappointed if your father cannot?”

He drew her closer. “I don’t know, my love. That wouldn’t bother me so much. I am very used to my own house. Ever since I’ve returned to England, I’ve felt as if I were a guest in my father’s homes. If that feeling continues, we shall buy a place of our own.”

She nodded and lay back against him. “Yes, we would, of course.”

Phoebe hesitated, she had felt a tension in Marcus since they’d met in the drawing room before dinner. “Is there something bothering you?”

He shook his head. “No. Why should there be?”

She frowned. “I don’t know. I just feel as if there is something wrong. You’d tell me if there was, wouldn’t you?”

“If you needed to know, of course.”

Phoebe pushed herself up and speared him with a look. “No, not just if I need to know. You said we would be equal partners. If that is not truly what you had in mind . . .”

Torn, Marcus searched her worried eyes. Did he dare wait nine more days to confide in her? But God, he couldn’t lose her. Not now, and not over Travenor. He held her close, feeling a desperate foreboding, and kissed her. “I do want a partnership with you. I want everything with you. It’s nothing, really. Go to sleep, my love. Dawn comes too early.”

“Marcus.”

“I’m worried about Arthur, and the girls, and whether everything will work out as we hope. I love you.”

She settled down in his arms again. His throat tightened. He’d waited so long to be with her, to call her his. For eight long years he’d feared each letter he received from family or friends would tell him she was either married or betrothed. Nothing would stand in the way of their marriage. He would be by her side, protecting her, every moment until he could tell Phoebe the truth. Nine more days.

Awakening before dawn, they made love, slowly and sweetly, with none of the frenzied passion that accompanied their nighttime lovemaking. Marcus slid slowly inside her, thrusting deeply. The tension grew as he kept to his path. He needed to bind her to him, brand her as his. To insure she’d never leave him. He heard her soft moans grow more desperate and reveled in her need and that he was the one to fill it.