The Seduction of Lady Phoebe (42 page)

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Authors: Ella Quinn

Tags: #Historical Romance, #Fiction

BOOK: The Seduction of Lady Phoebe

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Oh my, Mamma certainly didn’t buy this book!
It must have been Harry’s. Anna put it back on the shelf, and tears filled her eyes. She wished Harry were here. He’d know how to help her. Even though he was ten years older than she, they had always been close. She remembered him holding her when she was very young. He was always the first one to arrive when she awoke terrified at night.

Even when she was five and he was fifteen, although he didn’t really want her following him and Sebastian around, Harry never tried to stop her. When he’d left, Harry had made her responsible for the smugglers he’d led. Granted he had thought it would only be for a few months, but he’d taught her well. Anna had held the group together for almost three years without mishap, and she would continue to lead them.

She wondered briefly how Sebastian would take that part of her life. The secret part. Only Lizzy and her brother, Kev, knew Anna’s identity and that she was female. Her position in the smuggling gang was one of the many reasons Sebastian must be in love with her before she could agree to marry him. He’d have to accept her as she is now.

Anna remained in the library curled up in a chair. When she was ten years old, she had decided to marry Sebastian. That he was twenty hadn’t bothered her a bit. That he might wed someone else never entered her mind. Even now, marriage to someone else wasn’t a consideration. She’d marry him or no one. Unfortunately, no one was now a real possibility. Anna stared into the fire trying to envision her future without him and got absolutely nowhere. He was such an integral part of her past.

A footman came in, closed the drapes against the late afternoon gloom, and lit the wall sconces and candelabras.

“Please ask Cook if dinner can be served earlier.”

“Yes, miss.”

He came back a few minutes later, to assure her Cook would be happy to bring dinner forward.

Once the footman left, she got up and went back to the bookshelf. Anna found a couple of novels before leaving the room and, after some hesitation, took Harry’s book as well. If nothing else, it would make her feel closer to him.

October 26, 1814, London

Rutherford decided not to tell either Anna or Lady Marsh he would accompany Anna to Marsh Hill. She’d accepted his escort, albeit unwillingly, to Charteries, Marcus’s family’s estate. Rutherford had no desire to push his luck any further until he had to. Miss Marsh would discover he intended to escort her to Kent when he did not turn off the post road to London, and by then it would be too late for her to object.

Arriving the next morning shortly after eight o’clock, he discovered that early was a relative term. Anna was ready at eight o’clock. Lady Marsh had not yet come down.

He paced the entry hall and checked his pocket watch, again, before addressing Anna, “Do you think she’ll be much longer?”

“I’ll send someone to fetch her. It’s not good to keep the horses waiting like this.” Anna hailed a maid and gave her instructions.

Thirty minutes later, Lady Marsh appeared on the stairs. “Good morning, Lord Rutherford. I do hope I have not kept you waiting.”

He took the offered hand and bowed. “No, my lady. Not at all.”

Anna glanced up at the ceiling. “Mamma, we must depart if we are to reach Charteries by noon.”

Lady Marsh fluttered over Anna like a hen over a chick. “Do you have everything you need?”

“Yes, Mamma.”

Anna turned to go out the front door and her mother embraced her. “My dear child. How I will miss you.”

Anna returned the hug. “I will miss you as well. We must leave.”

Tears sprung into Lady Marsh’s eyes. “Yes, of course. How silly of me.”

She stood in the door weeping and mopping her eyes with a lace-edged handkerchief as Rutherford helped Anna into the coach. You’d think Anna was going to Russia and Lady Marsh would never see her daughter again. “I don’t remember your mother being like this.”

Anna frowned slightly. “Ever since Harry died she has been.”

“Lady Marsh has never recovered?”

“No. Not really,” Anna said sadly.

Rutherford couldn’t imagine how painful losing a child would be. The death of his friend had been hard enough to bear. Rutherford closed the door and gave the coachman the signal to start. He mounted his horse, waiting until the outriders Lady Marsh had hired flanked the carriage, before following after them. They made their way through London’s morning traffic, then on to the post road without incident.

The trip would take approximately three hours. They stopped midway to refresh themselves. It would be a good time to start getting back into Anna’s good graces.

He handed her down from the coach. “I’ve reserved a private parlor, if you’d like it?”

She glanced around. “Thank you, but I think I’d prefer to stand for a while.”

“Very understandable. Would you like hot cider?”

“Yes, please.”

He found a servant to bring their drinks. “Anna, it’s occurred to me that I could have been of more help since Harry died. I’m sorry I was not.”

She glanced suddenly at him, her brows drawn together. “It wasn’t your fault you kept being called away to your other estates.”

“I might have left it in my steward’s hands.” He should have quit going on missions and paid more attention to Anna.

“That is never the answer. You owe a duty to your dependents.”

This conversation was not going at all how he wanted it to. While he was trying to think of what else to say, the coachman came up.

“Miss, it’s time we were going again.”

Anna put her cup down on a bench. “I’ll be right there.”

When Rutherford and Anna arrived at Charteries, Lord Marcus Finley, second son of the Marquis of Dunwood, met them. Rutherford had known Marcus since Eton and could think of no one better to confide in regarding his problems with Miss Marsh, particularly since he’d managed to bring Lady Phoebe up to scratch after her six years on the Marriage Mart.

“Welcome to Charteries.” Marcus handed Anna down from the coach. “Phoebe will be with you directly. I’ve sent a message to her.”

Anna smiled. “Thank you, my lord. If you’ll have someone show me to my chamber, I’ll be ready for her.”

Marcus addressed his butler. “Wilson, please have Miss Marsh and her maid escorted to her room.”

Rutherford dismounted and greeted his friend. “I’d like to have a word with you if I could.”

Marcus raised a brow. “Yes, of course. Wash your dirt off and meet me in the morning room.”

Rutherford shook his hand. “Thank you.”

A half an hour later, Marcus handed Rutherford a glass of wine. “Please have a seat, what do you wish to discuss?”

Rutherford heaved a sigh. “Finley, you’re getting leg-shackled. Can you tell me how to do it?”

Marcus laughed.

Rutherford grinned ruefully. “Yes, I know. That
I,
of all people, should be asking that question, but Finley, I am quite serious.”

Marcus struggled to regain his countenance. “What in God’s name has brought this about? I thought you were sure of Miss Marsh?”

“I thought so as well,” Rutherford said, chagrined. “However, it turns out she is not coming round as I’d hoped. Sometimes it seems as if she’s avoiding me.”

Marcus dropped into a chair. “I suppose you’d better tell me about it.”

“I thought she would just accept me,” Rutherford said.

“Are you telling me”—Marcus leaned forward, with an incredulous look on his face—“you expected her to accept you, when you’d been dancing attendance on Phoebe for years and then gave Miss Marsh no reason why she should marry you?”

Rutherford wouldn’t have put it quite like that. “Well, you see,” he said, then paused, trying to find the words. “I’ve known her all her life. I thought she was already in a fair way to being in love with me, or at least liking me a good deal. It never occurred to me . . .”

“Never occurred to you,” Marcus retorted, “she might not appreciate being treated as a sure thing?”

Rutherford heaved a sigh. “I suppose I didn’t think of it in those terms.”

Marcus shook his head. “What a sapskull. I don’t know Miss Marsh that intimately, but I know her well enough to expect she’d bridle at that sort of arrogant behavior.”

Perhaps Marcus had a point. “I thought I’d leave well enough alone until I needed to marry, or until I thought she might be forming an attachment for someone else.” Something seemed to lodge in his throat and he coughed. “She was very young and as long as her heart wasn’t otherwise engaged . . .”

“Rutherford,” Marcus said. “You’ve rushed your fences and taken a fall. It appears to me you need to start over. You, my friend, will have to undergo the humiliating experience of courting the woman you could probably have had without effort three or more years ago, when she was not so knowledgeable.”

Rutherford remembered Anna smiling at him and then accepting another gentleman’s offer to dance, or to escort her to supper. He couldn’t believe he’d been so blind. “Now that you’ve said it, it all makes sense.” He groaned. “The way she’s hung back from me and kept me at arm’s length. She plans to go home to Kent when she leaves here. I shall accompany her, but I don’t intend to tell her.”

Marcus asked, “Are you sure she is the one for you?”

“Of course she is. Despite her recent behavior, I’ve known her all her life. Marriage with her would be comfortable. There’d be no surprises.” Rutherford picked up his glass and twirled the wine before taking a sip. “She’s poised and fits well into Polite Society. I’ve heard that since her brother’s death, she’s assumed all the household responsibilities at her home. I’m sure we’ll have our little disagreements from time to time, but she is used to taking her lead from me.” Rutherford nodded his head. “Yes, I believe she is now ready to take her position as Lady Rutherford.”

In fact, he couldn’t imagine his life without her. For years he’d resisted the lures thrown out by other ladies as he waited for Anna to mature. Then lately, there were the less chaste desires he’d been having about her as well. He wanted to spear his fingers through her dusky curls and run his tongue down her supple neck. Somehow he had to convince her to marry him.

Marcus regarded him dubiously. “I wish you luck.”

He stopped himself from running his finger under his neckcloth. “It may take a little time, but I’m sure she’ll come around.”

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