The Seduction of Lady Phoebe (35 page)

“Tim—Timothy, my lady,” he stuttered.

Keeping her tone even, Phoebe said, “Timothy, is there some reason you have not done as I’ve asked?”

He straightened a little, perhaps thinking himself on firmer ground. “My lady, tea’s not served at the breakfast table.”

Phoebe regarded him for a moment and said firmly, “Nevertheless, I do not drink coffee, and I would like tea. Please see to it at once.”

Timothy left the room, only to return a few moments later with Wallace, the Dunwood butler, who bowed to her. “Good morning, my lady. Timothy said you requested tea.”

Phoebe maintained her smile, but exasperation colored her words. “Good morning, Wallace. Yes, I did.”

When he stared at her as if not knowing what to do, she glanced up at the ceiling. “Really, Wallace, this is a ridiculous conversation. Do you intend to tell me that I may not have tea at the breakfast table? Because if you do, we shall be at outs. I do not take breakfast in my room, and I am determined to have my tea. I have no wish to offend the custom of the house, however, if need be, I will go to the kitchen myself and make it, then take this matter up with Lady Dunwood.”

Lord Dunwood chose that moment to enter. He looked from Wallace to Phoebe. “You’re up early, my dear. Is there something wrong?”

Wallace bowed. “My lord, Lady Phoebe has requested tea be served at the breakfast table.”

Lord Dunwood turned to Phoebe and smiled. “Would you like coffee, my dear?”

From the corner of her eye, Phoebe saw Marcus put his hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh. That did not help. Phoebe tried to preserve her countenance. “No, thank you. My lord, I have no wish to be rude to one who is to shortly be my papa-in-law, nor do I wish to upset the custom of your house, however, I do not drink coffee. I would like my tea. My maid sent my own blend to the kitchen yesterday, so it is available.”

Lord Dunwood stared at her, stunned, then said, “Wallace, why are you standing about? Bring Lady Phoebe her pot of tea.”

Without betraying any bemusement, Wallace bowed and left the room.

Phoebe glanced at Marcus who saluted her and inclined his head. From his gesture, Phoebe realized she’d won a major battle in establishing her future supervision of the house.

A little while later, Marcus turned to his father. “Papa, why has there never been tea served here before?”

Lord Dunwood looked a little abashed. “My father would have nothing but tea served. I had become used to drinking coffee during a trip to the West Indies. One morning, after I returned, I asked for coffee. My father told me he would not allow that beverage to be served. When I became master I was determined to have my own way. I ordered that nothing but coffee be served.”

He continued a little sheepishly, “The first argument I had with your mother was about tea. She breakfasts in her room because of it.”

Lord Dunwood said to Phoebe, “I have been told the two of you like to break your fast together. I suppose, if that is to continue, you will have to command the meal as you like it. Particularly, as you are to have control of the household. I shall tell Wallace to insure the staff does as you request. I am sorry, my dear, my edict became such a problem.”

Phoebe leaned forward to pat his arm. “If that is the worst problem we face, we will have done well, my lord. Perhaps Lady Dunwood will now join us?”

Dunwood smiled. “Perhaps she shall.”

The rest of the morning was busy indeed. Phoebe, her sisters, brother, their spouses, and Marcus met with Anne and Emily in the courtyard to the side of the house to begin the girls’ first lessons in fighting.

Afterward, Lady Dunwood arranged for Phoebe to meet, later in the morning, with the housekeeper, Mrs. Armstrong. Until then, Marcus was told to escort Phoebe through the wing that would be theirs, and, if time permitted, other areas as well to familiarize her with her new home.

Most of their part of the house had been built in the previous century. As they walked down one corridor, she saw an old, arched wooden door. “Marcus, where does that lead?”

He stared at it for a moment, before saying, “One of the old towers, I believe. I’d forgotten all about it. Would you like to see it?”

“Yes. Cranbourne Place doesn’t have anything like this.”

When he pulled the door open, cool air rushed out. Spiral stairs lit by long narrow windows led the way to the next level. Phoebe held up her skirts to avoid getting dust on them. At the top of the stairs stood another old door. She tugged on it and it opened with a creak. “Marcus, a solar!”

Phoebe walked into the round chamber. The ancient floor-to-ceiling casement windows encircled the room, giving way only for a marble-carved fireplace with figures of scantily-clad Grecian women. The half-timbered ceiling above them had carved beams. It was cold outside, yet, even with no fire, the room was sunny and warm.

She went back to Marcus. “I love this room. I’ve visited houses that had solars, but to find one here is beyond anything. May I have it as my parlor?”

He laughed and swung Phoebe around. “You may have anything you want. It will take some work to get it back in shape.”

It
was
dirty, and had some broken bits of furniture, but nothing that a good clean wouldn’t fix. She smiled. “It will be perfect. The repairs can be made while we’re on our wedding trip.”

The tour was almost completed, and Marcus was leading her purposefully toward their bedchamber when a footman arrived. “My lady, her ladyship says she’s ready for you to meet the housekeeper, Mrs. Armstrong.”

Marcus scowled. “Lady Phoebe will meet you at the head of the stairs.”

The footman bowed and took off in a hurry.

“We should have started this deuced tour in the bedchamber.”

Phoebe reached up and brushed her lips against Marcus’s. “But I wouldn’t have found my solar, or seen the rest of the wing. Our bedchamber will have to be a surprise to both of us on our wedding night.”

While she was with the housekeeper, Phoebe received the message that their first guests, Miss Marsh and Lord Rutherford, had arrived.

Phoebe found Anna’s room and joined her friend. “Anna, welcome to Charteries. I suppose I may say that now and not have to wait until to-morrow.”

Anna grinned. “Indeed you may welcome me.”

Phoebe hugged her. “How was your trip?”

“Much as expected. Phoebe, this is a wonderful old house. You don’t have to tell me you’re happy. You look it.”

Phoebe blinked back tears. “Anna, I have never been so happy. I—I feel as if I have finally come home.” Phoebe shook herself a little, unable to believe all her dreams were about to come true. “How goes it with Rutherford?”

Anna lowered her brows and said sternly, “Lord Rutherford has been spoiled by the matchmaking mamas and their daughters. He actually thought he could transfer his attentions from you to me, and I immediately would come to heel. He is finding I do not obey so easily.”

Phoebe laughed. “When do you plan to be married?”

Consternation replaced the twinkle in Anna’s eyes, and she pulled a face. “Oh, Phoebe, I don’t know if we will marry. He pined for you for years and now this sudden change of course . . . I don’t know if he loves me, or how to tell if he does.”

“Anna, you know I’ve never believed him seriously interested in me.” Phoebe frowned. Yes, with Rutherford, Anna would need to be certain, or he’d ride roughshod over her. “You have time to learn his true feelings. You’ve waited this long—a little longer won’t hurt, and, indeed, may do a great deal of good. It would not do for you to enter into an unequal marriage, which is what would happen if you love him, and he does not return your affection.”

Anna sighed. “I know, which is why he shall not get anything from me until he mends his ways.”

A few minutes later, Phoebe and Miss Marsh entered the room to find Rutherford with Marcus.

Marcus greeted Phoebe and Miss Marsh, who glanced briefly at Rutherford.

“Phoebe, may I be shown around the gardens that are visible from my bedchamber?”

“Yes. We have time. Most everything has already been arranged.” Phoebe looked at Marcus. “I ran into Rose and Covey ferrying our clothing to our new apartments. I hope Rose remembers to leave enough out for me to wear until after the wedding.”

Marcus tugged the bell pull and asked the footman who answered to bring the ladies’ shawls.

Rutherford cleared his throat. “When do you sail for France?”

“We expected to depart immediately after the wedding breakfast, but decided to wait until the next afternoon.”

Miss Marsh smiled brightly at Phoebe. “I am so jealous. I’ve always wanted to see Paris.”

Rutherford muttered, “If you’d marry me, I’d take you to Paris.”

Miss Marsh was either ignoring him or hadn’t heard, she continued. “How long do you expect to be gone and will you take the packet?”

Marcus grinned. Rutherford had quite a challenge in front of him. “I have a ship in Newhaven. We’ll sail to Dieppe and travel to Paris. We expect to spend several weeks.”

After the footmen arrived with the ladies’ shawls, Marcus asked Phoebe, “May we join you?”

Phoebe glanced at Miss Marsh, who appeared none too happy about the prospect. “My love, if you wouldn’t mind . . .”

“Of course not, Rutherford and I still have some things to discuss concerning his duties at the wedding.”

Once the ladies had left, Marcus said, “She really is avoiding you.”

“I have noticed,” Rutherford replied glumly. “I just don’t know what to do about it. I must have made a complete hash of it, but I’ve no clue how—or why.”

“My lord,” a footman said from the door. “Lady Dunwood wants to see you.”

“Tell her I’ll be right there.” Marcus turned to Rutherford. “We can talk after dinner, if you’d like.”

“Yes. Thank you.”

Throughout the afternoon, the guests intending to remain overnight at Charteries arrived in a steady stream that filled the house with noise and gaiety.

Phoebe rejoined Marcus and they were in a drawing room with some newly arrived guests when a footman found them. “My lord, my lady, her ladyship has asked you to attend her in her parlor. It is urgent.”

Marcus exchanged a glance with Phoebe and they excused themselves to their company.

Hurrying after the footman, Phoebe said in a soft voice, “I hope it is not Arthur.”

Marcus nodded grimly.

They were led to his mother’s parlor. When they entered the room, Marcus was taken aback to find not only his parents and sister, but Lord and Lady St. Eth, as well as the rest of Phoebe’s family.

Sober faces met them.

“Arthur?” Marcus whispered.

Tears strangled his mother’s voice. She could only nod.

Marcus’s throat closed. “Is he . . . ?”

Papa shook his head. “No, but the doctor was just here. It will not be long. Arthur wants to speak to you both.”

Phoebe squeezed Marcus’s hand. “We’ll go immediately.”

Marcus strode swiftly down the hall to his brother’s room, where Arthur’s daughters, Anne and Emily, were with him. The girls’ eyes were swimming in tears as they tried not to cry.

Arthur lay covered in blankets on a couch between the windows. Although the room was warm, his skin was alarmingly pale and clammy, his breathing labored. Marcus thought of all the years they’d spent apart and regretted every one of them.

Phoebe crossed quickly to Arthur. Sinking down on her knees, she took one of his hands. Marcus stood next to her.

“Tell us what you want.” Her voice was rough with unshed tears.

Arthur smiled at them, so beautifully, Marcus blinked.

His brother called the girls closer to them. “I don’t have much time. We’ve been saying that for a while, I know. This time it’s true.”

He raised his gaze to Marcus and Phoebe. “I want you both to promise me that if I die between now and then, you will marry as you have planned in the morning. Promise me you won’t delay. Go to France. Everything will be here when you return.”

Not trusting himself to speak, Marcus nodded tersely.

Arthur turned his daughters to face Phoebe. “Anne, Emily, I know you already love your aunt Phoebe.”

They glanced at her, sadness in their eyes, and went into the arm she held out to them.

He nodded. “It is my desire that you treat her as you would a mother.”

Silent tears rolled down their cheeks as they nodded.

“Marcus, you know my wishes concerning my daughters. When the time comes, our man of business will apprise you as to their portions and—”

Marcus held up his hand, stopping his brother. “I will treat them and love them as my daughters. Don’t worry. We”—he squeezed Phoebe’s shoulder—“will care for them as our children.”

Arthur grabbed Marcus’s other hand. “Mamma and Papa know my wishes, all of them. I’m a little tired now. Please call Nurse in to me.”

Phoebe held the girls to her. “Send for me or come to my room if you need me.”

Anne and Emily nodded.

Marcus helped Phoebe rise, before bending down to hug his brother. “We’ll do as you wish.”

Walking silently, hands clasped together, Marcus and Phoebe made their way back to his mother’s parlor. He opened the door. Phoebe walked in, and he took his place beside her.