The Seduction of Lady Phoebe (7 page)

P
hoebe arrived at the London residence of her aunt Ester, Marchioness of St. Eth, just past noon.

St. Eth House, built in the last century, was one of the larger residences gracing Grosvenor Square and one of the few free standing houses, the others being connecting townhouses. Since Phoebe’s mother had died, Phoebe had spent almost every Season there.

Her apartment was in the front, overlooking the park and one of the small side gardens. It consisted of a bedchamber, decorated in various shades of earthy greens, anchored by a four-poster bed, a dressing room, a small parlor with a pretty desk, a sofa, and two comfortable chairs.

Ferguson, St. Eth’s butler, bowed her through the door. “My lady, may I say it is a pleasure to have you with us again.”

“Thank you, Ferguson.” Phoebe waited as he removed her pelisse. “It is good to be back.”

François, her aunt’s
chef de cuisine
, sent a cold collation of meats, cheeses, and fruit to Phoebe’s parlor. After she’d eaten and washed, Phoebe changed into a simple, pale yellow twill walking gown and lightweight paisley spencer in coordinating greens and yellows.

Greeting the butler, she said, “Ferguson, I am going to Bond and Bruton Streets to shop. I’ll need a footman. Is Jim available?”

“Yes, my lady, I’ll call for him. Would you like a carriage, my lady?”

“No, thank you, Ferguson. I have been too much cooped up in the coach for the past few days, and am in great need of a walk.”

Her first stop was at Madame Lisette’s in Bruton Street. Madame had been Phoebe’s modiste since her come out.

“Bonjour, Madame,”
Phoebe called, entering the shop.

A small, dark-haired lady stepped out from the back.

“
Mon Dieu,
Milady Phoebe, but you are in Town early,
n’est-ce pas?
”

“Yes, I am a week early I’m afraid, and in immediate need of gowns. I hope that does not pose a problem?” Since Phoebe replenished her wardrobe each Season, she trusted Madame would have some of the clothes ready.

“
Mais non
. I will have more for you in a few days
naturellement
.
Bien
, I show you what I have completed, milady.” Madame disappeared behind the drapes to shortly emerge, followed by two young women carrying an assortment of gowns.

Phoebe selected what she would need in the next few days and stood for the fittings. After making arrangements for most of the boxes to be delivered to St. Eth House, she went on to Bond Street, returning to Grosvenor Square just as her aunt Ester arrived.

Her aunt was so much like Phoebe’s mother. A handsome, elegant woman, her aunt shared Phoebe’s sparkling blue eyes and gold-red hair, albeit faded with age. Aunt Ester had all the height Phoebe lacked. As always, the marchioness was dressed in the first stare of fashion in an aubergine silk carriage gown that had two embroidered flounces at the bottom and long sleeves that buttoned tightly at the wrist.

Ester smiled as Phoebe walked up the paved path to the house. “Oh, Phoebe, my love, I am so glad you are arrived.”

Taking in the sight of the footman burdened with boxes, Ester asked, “Shopping already?”

Phoebe embraced her aunt. “I am so very happy to be here. Aunt Ester, you will not believe how shabby my wardrobe has become. I decided to begin immediately, and I still have
much
more shopping to do.”

Ester, knowing Phoebe as she did, did not believe for a moment her niece had allowed her wardrobe to become in such poor repair, or so out of date, as must needs this sudden bolt to Town.

Leading the way to the light airy hall paved with cream and blue tiles, Ester and Phoebe divested themselves of bonnets, gloves, and the packages Phoebe carried. Ester ordered tea to be served in the morning room at the back of the house.

Phoebe crossed to a comfortable side chair, set to one side of a sofa upon which Ester usually sat, and sank gracefully onto it.

As Ester poured tea, she studied her niece for a few moments. Phoebe was the closest thing Ester had to a daughter and something was not right. “I shall tell you, that I do not believe for a minute that Banbury tale about your clothing. What has brought you to Town so suddenly?”

Phoebe returned her aunt’s gaze and sighed. “I left to avoid meeting Lord Marcus Finley, whom I met eight years ago and still hold in great dislike. Amabel invited him to the Place to meet me, and he was due to arrive three days later. To-day in fact.”

Ester sat up sharply. “But where was Geoffrey? What had he to say to all of this?”

Shaking her head, Phoebe replied, “I only told Geoffrey that I needed to leave. He was very understanding. Neither Geoffrey nor Amabel are aware of the reason that I do not wish to meet Lord Marcus. I did not tell Amabel, as I don’t want there to be constraint between them over her brother. Geoffrey trusts me to do what is right and proper. I wrote Amabel to assure her that my leaving had nothing to do with her.

“I do not believe,” Phoebe continued grimly, “Lord Marcus will be surprised that I am not there to greet him. I cannot believe he’d think I would wish to see him again.”

Ester frowned. Phoebe had never run away from anything. “
When,
my dear, did you meet him? You were not even out when he left for the West Indies.”

Phoebe told her aunt of their meeting eight years ago.

“Well, we certainly shan’t encourage Lord Marcus.” Ester patted her niece’s hand. “I am happy you understand you will not be able to avoid him forever, though indeed, you need not be more than civil.”

Pursing her lips, Ester continued, “It is a shame your mother died when she did. You have been left very much to your own devices since then. I always believed Geoffrey was wrong in allowing you to become so much of your own woman at such a young age. He encouraged you to take over the management of the household when you were only seventeen. Since he married Amabel, you have been even more on your own.”

Phoebe opened her mouth to protest, but Ester held up a hand. “It is not that I am criticizing Geoffrey, well only a little, but I am not criticizing you at all, my dear. You showed superior sense, especially for as young as you were. Still there is no denying you have been allowed to take your life into your own hands as no other young lady of my acquaintance has been allowed to do.”

Ester stopped to refill her cup. “I was very happy when you so easily turned over the household to Amabel and did your duty by her in showing her how to go on. Fortunately, because of your very correct behavior, you have never been thought eccentric, for
that
would not do.”

Phoebe absently nibbled on one of the small tea cakes. “The situation is not as bad as that. I go on well with Amabel, except, of course, when she tries to arrange matches for me. She and Geoffrey are both always happy to have me at the Place, and I am very fond of them. I just think they need time to themselves, especially now with Miles. Amabel
truly
does not wish to go into Society anymore.” Phoebe shrugged lightly. “When I am there, well . . . I think she feels obligated to find me a husband.”

Ester replied tartly, “I have no sympathy for Amabel. If she’d left well enough alone, rather than insisting she chaperone you once she became Lady Cranbourne, she would not now be so unhappy with the result.”

Taking Phoebe’s hands, Ester said, “I
do
have sympathy for you, my dear. You are almost twenty-four, Phoebe, what
will
you do?”

That is what she had been starting to wonder. Because of her age, she was in a No Man’s Land. Too young to set up her own household and too old to be treated like a young miss. “I don’t know. I’d like very much to marry. If only there was a gentleman for whom I felt
affection
.

“Unfortunately”—she couldn’t keep the discontent and disappointment from her tone—“I’ve never met a man for whom I feel more than friendship. Mamma said I would know. She said when she first set eyes on Papa it was as if she could see
him
as she’d never seen any other man.”

Phoebe played with her empty cup. She desperately wanted the type of love her mother, aunt, and sisters had. “I have not yet felt that, and I want to. I will not marry just for position. I have quite a healthy competence. If I do not meet someone, I have been thinking I will set up my own household.”

Aunt Ester nodded. “Rather more than a healthy competence, my love. You are very well off. But, my dear, how do you plan to meet such a gentleman when you never allow any of them close to you?”

Phoebe’s thoughts drifted back to Lord Marcus Finley, a man she’d thought held so much promise, before he’d turned on her. What he’d done—how he’d treated her—had haunted her for years. “I don’t know. I don’t know if I trust myself to pick the right gentleman.”

Her aunt passed Phoebe another biscuit. “Nevertheless, you are much too young to think of setting up your own house.”

Phoebe glanced up and grimaced. “I know, but where am I to live now that Lord Marcus is back? With his being Amabel’s brother, I may need to remove myself from the Place. Perhaps Aunt Clara will take me until I am of sufficient age. I do
so
wish the man had not returned.”

“If it comes to that,” Aunt Ester said firmly, “you will live with us. With your interest in politics, no one will think it strange.”

Phoebe was thankful when her aunt turned the conversation to Phoebe’s wardrobe. The only person she had told about
that day
was Rose. Hermione and, by extension, her twin Hester, knew Lord Marcus had behaved badly, and that Phoebe had been angry, but she’d never told anyone else. Nor could she explain how she felt less than a lady anytime a gentleman tried to kiss her.

Much later, Phoebe and her aunt were sitting with their heads together over the latest fashion plates, when the door opened. Phoebe glanced up to see Uncle Henry, Marquis of St. Eth, enter. She smiled noticing there was just a bit more silver in his dark hair than the last time she’d seen him. His green eyes sparkled, however, as he gazed at the two of them.

He greeted his wife by kissing her briefly on the lips before addressing Phoebe. “What a pretty picture the two of you make. Well, my girl, you are in looks, I will say.”

Phoebe rose and curtseyed, before offering her hand, and her cheek. “Thank you, sir.” Her demure tone belied her roguish smile. “You are very good to notice.”

He laughed. “Minx. What plans have you two concocted whilst I’ve been out, and how am I involved?”

Aunt Ester’s gaze rested lovingly on him. “We have no plans this evening, my dear, but to-morrow we have the Fancotts’ ball. Then there is a very good play Phoebe has expressed a desire to see, dinner with the Stavelys . . .” Aunt Ester went on.

Her uncle’s eyebrows rose as his wife recited the list of invitations she’d so far received. “I had no idea so many were already in Town.”

“I don’t know how it is, my love,” Aunt Ester said, “but there does seem to be a lot to do for so early in the Season. Phoebe told me we can expect Hermione and Edwin in a week or so.”

Aunt Ester glanced quickly at the clock and shooed them out to dress for dinner.

As Phoebe was changing, she remembered the gentleman at the inn, and wondered again who he was and if she would see him in Town. How strange it would be if he turned out to be the one. Running away from Lord Marcus Finley might have been the best thing she’d ever done.

The next morning, Henry entered the breakfast room to find Ester there before him. “I take it you and Phoebe plan to spend the morning visiting the shops?”

“No, not to-day,” his wife replied. “Phoebe’s excuse in coming to Town so quickly was to refurbish her wardrobe. She brought only what she could carry in her coach. Although she called upon Lisette yesterday—I believe in an effort to make me believe her story—if Phoebe is to have enough to carry her through the Season, she will need to make many more purchases.”

Henry had taken his place at the table and Ester poured his coffee. “To-day, we have a full schedule of morning visits and afternoon teas so it will be known Phoebe is in Town. Shopping will have to wait until Saturday.”

Henry added sugar to the cup and said, “I did not like to ask it in front of Phoebe. Did she tell you what brought her here in such a rush?”

“Yes. It appears there is a bit of a contretemps surrounding Lord Marcus Finley.” Ester went on to explain what Phoebe had told her.

Henry’s countenance hardened. “That young man has much to answer for.”

A few minutes later, Phoebe swept into the room.

“Dear Uncle Henry.”
She flashed him a saucy smile. “Do you have room in your stables for my phaeton and horses? The phaeton is at Cranbourne House, but, of course, as Amabel does not come to Town for the Little Season, Geoffrey will only be up when he must needs. Understandably, that will not leave any of the stable staff in residence. If at all possible, I prefer to have the horses and the phaeton in the same location, but if it is
too
much of an imposition, I will have Sam and John Coachman care for them at Cranbournes’ stables.”

Henry laughed. “In addition to your traveling coach? What a way to start the morning. You are very lucky, my girl, that I am not one of those gentlemen who refuses to discuss anything at the breakfast table.” He sat back in his chair. “I take it you are referring to that high perched phaeton you bought last year, and your matched blacks? Yes, you may stable them here. I didn’t have an opportunity to see them and am looking forward to going over their points with you.”