Under An English Moon (7 page)

“Forgive me, Phoebe, I fear I have insulted you. I never meant to suggest that you ‘repel’ me or that the notion of sharing a bedchamber with you,” his voice took on a husky note, “did not hold appeal for me. I have heard your assurances that this sort of
arrangement
would not be accompanied by the inevitable scandal as it would in my time, and I believe you are the best judge of that. You are correct in your statement that I lack funds at present. It is a humiliating situation for me, and one I hope to remedy soon. With your permission then, I shall find a corner of the room and prepare a makeshift bed.” He rose and bowed. “Please accept my assurances that nothing untoward will occur, and that your virtue will be safe with me.”

Phoebe clasped and unclasped her hands. “I’m definitely not worried about that, Reggie.” She smiled faintly. “I’ll get some stuff. Too bad I don’t have an airbed. Maybe we can pick one up tomorrow while we’re out.” She stepped into the closet and spoke from within its confines. “At any rate, if Annie leaves for Hawaii like she said, and you’re still here, you can always take the couch like we originally planned.”

Reggie said nothing. He could not forget the wounded expression on Phoebe’s face. Did the girl actually want him to sleep in her bedchamber? He cleared his throat and put the thought from his mind.

“Phoebe,” he began. “Why does your cousin call you Mouse?”

Phoebe emerged from the closet, her arms laden with bedding. He stepped forward to take the linens from her arms.

“My middle name is Minerva, and she calls me Minnie Mouse on occasion.”

“Minnie Mouse?”

“It’s a character in a cartoon.”

“I do not know what a
kar-toon
is, but Minerva is the goddess of wisdom and often depicted with an owl, not a mouse.”

Phoebe put her hands on her elbows and surveyed the room.

“Yes, she was, and that is why you should trust
me
. I’m sure my parents knew what they were doing when they named me.” The corner of her lips twitched, and Reggie’s heart lightened. Although he did not understand the nature of his indiscretion and had sought only to protect her reputation by insisting upon other sleeping accommodations, he vowed to let the matter rest—if only to see Phoebe smile again.

He bowed his head. “I put myself in your care.”

Phoebe looked up sharply. “Good! Well, where shall we put your makeshift bed? Have you ever slept on the ground before?”

Reggie allowed that he had not.

“How about over here against the wall, near the bed? That’s the only spot I can think of with enough room.” She surveyed him from head to foot, and he stiffened for a moment, unused to such frank assessment from a woman. “You’re pretty tall.”

She took the linen and bent on her knees to smooth out a sleeping area for him. Reggie wondered how he would sleep, but he did not care to alienate Phoebe further. He knelt down to assist her, enjoying the close proximity to her. She seemed remarkably agile for a young woman, especially one in a skirt which reached only to her knees.

“There,” she said as she straightened. “It doesn’t look very comfortable, but we’ll figure something out tomorrow, okay? There is no way I can share the bed with you, and I seriously think you’d have a heart attack if I suggested it.”

Reggie thought he might have an apoplectic fit were he forced to lie next to her in a bed all the night, but he now knew to remain silent on the subject. “The bedding looks to be very comfortable. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She rose to her feet. “Well, I need to take a shower. I’ll just change in the bathroom and then hop into bed when I come out. Don’t wait up!”

Reggie rose hastily and bowed again. “As you wish.” He waited until she gathered her things and closed the door behind her before sinking down onto the bench at the end of the bed. Unable to resist the softness of the mattress behind him, he leaned back, resting his head on the bed and staring at the ceiling.

If nothing else, life in the twenty-first century felt very comfortable, even luxurious—from the smooth texture of the living room furnishings and carpet to the equipment involved in the preparation of meals, and from the instant hot water in the gleaming bathroom to the softness of the mattress upon the bed. Although he had only experienced the interior of Phoebe’s apartment, he had no doubt the world outside would prove equally comfortable.

He looked forward to their excursion to a clothing shop in the morning as he was in desperate need of a change of clothes. He would most certainly need a nightshirt given that he was required to sleep fully clothed this night with the exception of his coat and boots which he thought he could safely remove with impunity.

Reggie closed his eyes for a moment and listened to the sound of the “shower” in the bathroom. A marvelous invention. He would insist on installing such a system immediately upon his return to England...and his own time. For he had no doubt that he would return. One did not simply travel in time to a distant place, never to be heard from again, did they? No one in his acquaintance had ever done so. Even Sylvie and Thomas Ringwood, and Louisa and Stephen Carver sent letters to Bedfordshire with news of their new life in America.

He opened his eyes. Were they here? In New York City? No, no, of course not. It was not possible. Though they had indeed emigrated to America, they had done so almost two hundred years prior. Still, he thought, would their descendents still live? He would ask Phoebe in the morning.

Reggie closed his eyes again, vowing to rise in only a moment’s time to make use of the bed Phoebe had so carefully prepared for him. In just a moment.

****

Reggie opened his eyes to the sound of tapping on the bedroom door. He bolted upright and rubbed his eyes. The room was dark though it had been lit by lamps only moments before.

The door opened.

“Mouse?” Annie whispered as she thrust her head just inside the door. “Are you awake yet? I really need a shower this morning.”

A gasp from the direction of the bed behind Reggie caught his attention, and he turned. Phoebe sat up in bed staring at him. She touched a lamp next to the bed, and a soft glow filled the room.

Annie opened the door wider, and stepped in, surveying the room with a quick glance.

“Did you sleep there, Reggie?” she asked.

Reggie jumped up. Had he fallen asleep and slept the night through?

“I am not certain,” he began. “I only sat for a moment.”

“What is that on the floor? Is that a bed?”

Phoebe scrambled from the bed and came to stand beside him. She took his hand in hers. Reggie dropped his eyes to her sleeping garment—a scanty blouse with straps and pink trousers of some sort. He looked away hastily.

“Yes, he did. When I came out of the shower, he was asleep on the ottoman, and I didn’t want to wake him up to go to bed.”

Annie tilted her head to one side as if she did not believe Phoebe’s story, which was indeed probably the nearest thing to the truth either of them had told her cousin.

“But what’s that on the floor?”

“Ah! My back pained me last night, and I did not think I would be able to sleep upon the luxurious mattress,” Reggie offered. Phoebe squeezed his hand, and he thought he had done well.

“Well, I’m sorry to bust in on you guys like this, but I’m filthy. I really needed a shower. My clock’s off, and my body is on Switzerland time.” She scrutinized a bracelet on her arm. “It’s almost seven o’clock. I hoped I wasn’t too early.”

“No, no,” Phoebe said. She kept hold of Reggie’s hand, and he minded not one bit.

“Okay, well. I’m going to go shower.” Annie moved into the bathroom and shut the door behind her.

Phoebe dropped Reggie’s hand as if he were a leper. Had he said something amiss? Again?

“Sorry about that. I just thought I should grab your hand since we’re supposed to be a couple.”

Had she thought he was displeased? That he did not care for her touch? Nothing could be further from the truth.

“Phoebe...” Reggie began with a thought to speak his mind.

“No problem,” she said. “I’ll probably have to grab you a few more times while Annie is here, but it’s for a good reason.” She rubbed her eyes and yawned. “When I came out of the shower last night, you were passed out on the ottoman there, and I didn’t have the heart to wake you. So, basically you slept there all night. Does your back really hurt?”

“Not at all. I thought that a plausible excuse for the bedding on the floor.”

“That was good!” Phoebe smiled. “Well, why don’t you use the bathroom in the living room while I get dressed? I’ll be out in a minute.”

Reggie inclined his head. “As you wish.” He did not know if he could get used to being directed about like a child—especially regarding matters of hygiene. As he had said, he was a babe in the woods, but that did not mean he relished being mothered at his age.

He put it from his mind at the moment and refreshed himself in the small washroom as Phoebe had suggested, an interesting room to be sure, much like a closet and containing many of the fixtures of the larger bathroom but without the “shower,” which he absolutely delighted in. He regarded his hair, mourning the absence of a comb, and he attempted to bring it under control with his fingers and a bit of water. The wilted state of his cravat was mortifying, and he knew an urgent desire to find a men’s establishment and acquire fresh clothing. This morning, Phoebe had said. There was nothing he could do meanwhile but hold his head high and appear not to notice the certain stares of passersby on the street as they beheld his wretched appearance.

A quick glance at his boots reminded him they were dusty from the road, and he reached for the paper which Phoebe had called “toilet paper” to dust them off. He must acquire boot black. Reggie searched for a waste bin in which to discard the paper but could find none. He eyed the toilet with interest. Phoebe had indicated the paper should be used for that purpose. Tossing the paper into the bowl, he pushed the handle, let loose the water, and watched the paper seemingly dissolve and disappear. Curiously, he pushed the handle again to see if it would reappear, but it did not. Fascinating!

A tap on the door startled him, and he jerked upright as if he had been caught doing something he should not.

“Are you okay in there, Reggie?” Phoebe called through the door.

“Yes,” Reggie called. He tugged at his waistcoat, gave himself one last glance in the mirror and opened the door. Phoebe awaited him with a cup of coffee in her hand. He noted she wore a colorful blouse with short sleeves ending above her elbows. Her lower limbs were encased in what appeared to be a pair of dark blue men’s trousers, as form-fitting as his own. She wore Roman-style sandals upon her feet. He took a deep breath and kept his eyes upon her face and way from her limbs.

“I used the paper to remove the dust from my boots. I hope that was acceptable,” he said solemnly.

Phoebe laughed then covered her mouth as he frowned. “Ummm...yup...that’s fine. You would probably like a shoeshine today, wouldn’t you? I don’t know where they do that anymore except at the train station.” She assessed his Hessians frankly. “We’ll probably have to get you some different shoes today. Those are very attractive, but they’re just different.”

He looked down at his boots. “Different?”

Phoebe shook her head and offered him the coffee. “I can’t explain it. Just different. The tassels. Probably not.”

Reggie lifted his chin and clasped his hands behind his back. “These are very expensive boots, Miss Warner, from the finest bootmaker in London.”

“Uh oh, you’re calling me Miss Warner again. That’s not good.” Phoebe sighed, and Reggie relented and took the coffee from her. “They are great-looking boots, Reggie, but you’re not going to be able to wear them with our modern clothing. I’m sorry.”

Reggie dipped his head. “It is I who must apologize, Phoebe. I am being missish. You must think me quite the dandy. The truth is that appearance is very important where I come from, and any deviation from the accepted standards subjects one to public ridicule.”

“I know, Reggie.” She moved toward the kitchen, and Reggie followed.

“But how
can
you know?”

“Books, Reggie, lots and lots of books, some of them written by authors of your time discussing the customs and traditions of the early nineteenth century.” She poured a cup of coffee and set another to brew, presumably for her cousin.

“I would be most interested in reading some of these books. To hear my time referred to as the ‘early nineteenth century’ or the ‘late Georgian era’ sounds so strange.”

“Good morning, everyone,” Annie said as she emerged from the bedroom. “Any coffee for me?” She approached the kitchen dressed in clothing similar to Phoebe’s, and Reggie supposed they wore the equivalent of morning gowns, such as those his stepmother wore at home.

Phoebe handed her cousin a cup of coffee.

“Morning,” she murmured.

Reggie bowed. “Good morning.”

“I love that bowing, Reggie. Did you spend time in Europe? It seems to be more of an old-fashioned Continental trait than British.”

“I have traveled the Continent,” he replied with a quick look in Phoebe’s direction.

“Well!” Phoebe intervened. “Shall go out to eat for breakfast before shopping? I really don’t have anything here.” She addressed herself to Annie with a shrug.

Annie cocked her head.

“Are you going out in that getup, Reggie?”

Reggie stiffened. What in the infernal blazes was amiss with his clothing other than it was no doubt somewhat dated?

“And are you going out in that ‘getup,’ might I also ask?”

Chapter Five

“Reggie!” Phoebe sputtered. She couldn’t help laughing, although acutely aware that she needed to calm the tension between Reggie and Annie, who looked very irate.

“Forgive me,” Reggie bowed almost immediately. “I cannot believe I spoke in such a manner. Forgive me, Miss Warner.”

“Which one?” Annie said with narrowed eyes.

“Both of you as you are so similarly dressed.”