His Mistletoe Bride (13 page)
Read His Mistletoe Bride Online
Authors: Vanessa Kelly
And from the tone of her voice, she never would be.
Lucas must have made a sound, because she finally looked at his face, her eyes gone hard with moral condemnation. That look tore through him like cannon shot. He'd always found her Quaker philosophy quaint and rather charming, but now he realized how he'd misjudged. Under that lovely facade lived a puritan, and a cold, contemptuous one at that.
Her contempt was leveled right at him. Why? Because he wasn't a Quaker? Was it his career in the military that condemned him in her eyes? He didn't know, and right now he didn't care. Clearly, Phoebe was not the woman he'd thought she was.
With a curt nod, he retreated. “As you wish. Forgive me for offending you.”
He slipped the necklace back into the velvet pouch and dropped it carelessly onto the end table. Phoebe bit her lip, and a look of anguish flashed across her features. That gave him pause, but he shoved aside his concern. She'd made her feelings known, and he wouldn't trouble her again. She was Aunt Georgie's and Uncle Arthur's problem now. He'd done his best by her, and she'd rejected him.
In front of the whole damn family, and Silverton, no less.
“Well,” said his aunt in an aggrieved voice, “isn't this a delightful way to start the evening? Lady Framingham will be
so
happy to see us.”
so
happy to see us.”
Chapter 11
Phoebe studied the immense stone lions guarding the doors of Lady Framingham's ballroom. With their fierce expressions and arched backs, the beasts looked ready to pounce on any unsuspecting dancers who wandered too close. Right now, she rather wished one of them would come to life and swallow her in a single gulp.
Repressing a sigh, she perched on one of the delicate chairs grouped against the wall, pretending to listen to Meredith and Annabel as they chatted away. According to them, Lady Framingham's ball was an unqualified success. Jammed with guests attired in beautiful fashions and glittering jewels, the ballroom shimmered in the light of a thousand candles. A good-natured din filled the cavernous space, so loud one could barely hear the orchestra at the other end of the immense gold and crimson room. All were having, or seemed to be having, a wonderful time.
Unfortunately, Phoebe hated every moment. It was too loud, too hot, and at least half the guests were so inebriated she marveled they did not pitch over onto their faces. She could not think of one thing she liked about Lady Framingham's ball.
Except for the lions. Their fierce scowls matched exactly how she felt.
A hand touched her arm and she jumped.
“Forgive me for startling you,” Meredith apologized, “but I don't think you heard Annabel's question.”
The sisters stared at her with concern. Meredith had steadfastly remained by her side from the moment they entered Framingham House, which had been when Lucas abandoned them. A few minutes later Annabel had arrived, and the two women had swept Phoebe away to a relatively quiet corner of the ballroom.
She mustered up a smile. “Forgive me.” She leaned across Meredith to address Annabel. “What did you wish to know?”
The young woman studied her with a grim expression. “It doesn't matter. What does matter is that you're having an absolutely awful time, aren't you?”
Phoebe opened her mouth, then clamped it shut. Never had she experienced so many impulses to lie as she had since arriving in London. Perhaps she should move back to America, since her new life seemed to be having an unfortunate effect on her morals.
And her temper, if her behavior in her uncle's library was any indication. She did not even regret her rude remarks to Lucas, which surely illustrated how far her conduct had slipped.
Meredith scoffed at her sister. “Of course she's having an awful time. How could she not, given how badly Lucas is behaving? I'd like to box his ears.”
Phoebe choked down a laugh that felt more like a sob. The image rather horrified her, but right now she was trying to repress the same impulse.
As one, the three women turned their eyes to Lucas, who was dancing with yet another beautiful woman. He and his partner were engaged in a waltz, and to Phoebe's eyes he was holding the woman scandalously close. Given that the lady's flimsy bodice barely covered her ample charms, it was a wonder her bosoms did not pop right out and land on Lucas's waistcoat. He certainly had not been jesting when he told her many of the women at the ball would be more than half naked.
He seemed determined to dance with most of them before the evening was out. And was enjoying every minute of it, too, by the appreciative smile on his face.
They watched grimly as Lucas swung the ladyâPhoebe used the term very looselyâthrough another turn. His partner gazed up at him with sultry eyes and nestled even closer as he swept her down the room.
Phoebe clenched her jaw as anger jostled aside the anguish from that ugly scene in Uncle Arthur's library.
“Why is he acting so badly?” Annabel asked in a mystified voice. “Lucas has always enjoyed a flirtation, but I've never seen him quite like this. Especially not sinceâ” She glanced at Phoebe. “Well, not for a while, anyway.”
Meredith sighed. “He's in a pet because Phoebe wouldn't accept his gift. It was so unfortunate he decided to present it to her in front of half the family. Men are such idiots.”
Phoebe ducked her head, cheeks burning as she recalled Lucas's offhanded manner in presenting her with the precious family heirloom. How could he treat herâand the giftâin so careless a fashion? She knew from her mother's relation of family history the importance of that necklace. The Merritt rubies were only given to the wives of the earlsâas a token of true love and esteemâand never handed down from mother to daughter.
Was Lucas signaling his desire to marry her by his presentation? She had not even been able to tell. And if he was, how could he do it in a way that would be sure to embarrass her? To do something so private and meaningful, paraded in front of half the family, and with no warning given to her first. He could not love her and yet treat her with so little respect.
Caught off guard, she had taken refuge in the one excuse that popped into her head, and in doing so, she had clearly offended him. She winced as she recalled the angry glitter in his eyes. Nay.
Offended
was too neutral a term for how Lucas felt about her now.
Offended
was too neutral a term for how Lucas felt about her now.
Annabel gazed at her in shock. “You mean the Merritt ruby necklace? The one the earls give to their brides?”
Phoebe nodded, feeling bleak. “The very same.”
Annabel shook her head. “Heavens. Then why is he acting like . . .”
“Like a ruthless flirt?” Meredith finished in a sarcastic voice. “Because he was too dense to realize how embarrassing the situation would be for Phoebe. I was surprised Aunt Georgie didn't try to stop him, but she told me she thought it was a lovely gesture of support. The entire family standing behind her, that sort of thing.”
Phoebe grimaced. Her aunt had already made an abject apology to her before they came upstairs to the ballroom, and that was almost worse than anything.
Well, not worse than having to watch Lucas flirt with one woman after another. He had refused to look at her on the way over in the carriage, and now he ignored her. Obviously, he had not been asking her to marry him when he offered the necklace. He was likely assuaging his guilt that she had received no bequests from her grandfather, while Lucas had inherited everything. Perhaps he thought the necklace counted as some part of his imagined obligation to her.
She took a steadying breath. “You must not worry about me. You have all treated me with a great deal of love and respect. No one owes me anything.”
Meredith gave her a puzzled look. “You do understand what the necklace means, don't you?”
Before she could answer, the waltz came to an end. Phoebe's gaze fixed on the spot where Lucas and his buxom partner had swung to a halt not far from where they sat. His glance flicked in Phoebe's direction and the breath seized in her lungs.
But instantly he was smiling again into the laughing face of the woman on his arm. She took his elbow, plastering herself against his side as they strolled off the dance floor toward the refreshment table.
Jerking her gaze away, Phoebe swallowed a tight ball of misery in her throat. “If you do not mind, I would prefer we not discuss this topic.”
Meredith cast a disgusted glance in Lucas's direction. “Of course, dear. But I don't want you to worry. I promise everything will work out just as it should.”
Phoebe gave her a polite smile, though her heart ached. Nothing would be fine. Not as long as she remained in London, reminded on a daily basis that she was falling in love with a man who neither respected her nor deserved what she wished to give him. The sooner she returned to America, the better.
“Meredith, look,” cried Annabel. “There's Sophie and Simon. I was beginning to think they weren't coming.”
Phoebe exhaled a sigh of relief, grateful for the distraction from her foolish woes. Fixing a smile on her face, she rose with Meredith and Annabel to greet the Earl and Countess of Trask. Phoebe had met them a few days ago at a small dinner party the countess had hosted, and had liked them immediately. Especially Sophie, Lady Trask. Only a year or two older than Phoebe, she was a cheerful young woman who wore spectacles and did not seem to worry if the ton thought her fashionable or not. Lord Trask had been a tad forbidding, but he so obviously adored his wife and their little daughter that Phoebe had soon been able to see past his stern exterior to the kind, honorable man beneath.
A man much like Lucas, or so she had thought.
Her smile began to slip, but she pinned it back in place as Sophie swooped in to hug her sister-in-law.
“Annabel, how are you? And where is that scapegrace brother of mine? I can't believe he has abandoned you already.”
Annabel laughed. “No, he's sulking over there in the corner with Silverton. We sent him away so we could talk.”
Sophie gave Meredith and Phoebe quick hugs, murmuring a friendly greeting. “Talk about the menfolk, I presume. What an excellent idea.” She turned to her husband and made a shooing gesture with her hand, rattling the gold bangles on her slender arm. “Be off with you, Simon. I'm sure you'd much rather hole up in the card room all evening, or talk business with Silverton.”
Lord Trask had just finished making his bows to them, but now he studied his wife with a severe expression on his handsome features. “Sophie, I want you to sit down and not move from that chair until I get you something cold to drink. If you're not here when I get back, I will hunt you down and haul you right back home.”
Sophie started to bluster, but Annabel was already dragging another chair over into their little group. Meredith guided Sophie into it, inspecting her with a worried eye.
“Are you feeling unwell? Perhaps you shouldn't have come tonight. It's always such a dreadful crush at Lady Framingham's affairs.”
Sophie rolled her eyes as she settled into the chair. “I'm breeding, not sick. And I still have another three months to go, according to Dr. Blackmore. There's no need to worry, and there's no need for me to sit at home like a bump on a log.”
She scowled up at her husband, but Phoebe could see the affection lurking in her gaze. It made her heart contract with an odd little ache. Would she ever marry as happily as the Stanton women had? Would she ever marry at all?
“No one expects you to sit home all the time,” Lord Trask replied, “but you were feeling a little light-headed earlier. Given your propensity to trip over your own feet, I have no desire to see you combine that little habit with a fainting spell.”
Phoebe blinked at the earl's plain speaking, but Sophie spluttered out a laugh. “Simon, you beast! You know I only trip over my feet when I'm not wearing my glasses. I promise I will keep them firmly on my nose tonight.”
Lord Trask looked skeptical, and his wife wrinkled her nose at him. “Truly, I'm fine. Now, please go away. I promise I won't stir from this seat until you get back.”
He gave her a faint smile as he touched her cheek. “I'll hold you to that.”
“Don't worry, Simon,” said Annabel. “We'll sit on her if we have to, and hold her down.”
With a grin, Lord Trask sketched a bow and melted off into the crowd.
“Now,” Sophie said, rubbing her hands with relish, “what are we talking about? Anything interesting? Any scandals breaking out that I don't know about?”
Meredith slid her glance in Phoebe's direction, and her heart clutched.
“Oh, nothing worth speaking about,” Meredith said evasively.
Sophie frowned. “Really? That's disappointing. I was hopingâ” She stopped, pushed her spectacles up on her nose, and leaned forward to peer at something across the room.
“What in heaven's name is Lucas doing with Mrs. Dorkington in that window alcove? I realize she's a widow, but he shouldn't let her drape herself all over him like that. Goodness! What will Grandmamma think?”
They all followed the direction of her gaze. There, in an alcove across from them, stood Lucas, one arm propped against the wall as he loomed over the buxom woman he had been dancing with. The woman had one hand on his chest, standing very close as she giggled up into his face. Bile rose in Phoebe's throat, and she had to swallow hard to force it down.
“Drat the man,” muttered Meredith. “This time I really will slap him.”
Annabel let out a little groan. “Oh, Grandmamma won't like this one little bit.” She cast a swift glance around. “And it looks like other people are starting to notice, too.”
Phoebe ran a swift gaze around their nearest neighbors. Sure enough, more than a few were watching Lucas and Mrs. Dorkington, some with tolerant amusement, others with disapproving frowns.
Her heart sank. How could Lucas make such a spectacle of himself? She understood his anger, but did he have to punish them all?
“What's gotten into him?” Sophie asked. “I thought . . .” She glanced at Phoebe, then back to Meredith. “You know.”
“We seem to have hit a few bumps in the road. There was an unfortunate scene at Stanton House this evening, and Lucas is quite annoyed with Phoebe. Not,” Meredith hastened to add, “that it was any fault of hers. Quite the opposite, in fact. But Lucas has obviously chosen to express his dissatisfaction in typical male fashion.”
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