Scandalous Innocent (21 page)

Exhausted, exhilarated, Phoebe reached the pinnacle at the same moment and hovered, weightless, as the sky came crashing down on them. They clung, moaning, holding on to the last fading star, their lips sharing the same shallow breath.

The candle had died and the moon shone a white floodlight through the open curtains of the bed when they moved, at last, from one tangle of limbs to another. Drowsily, Phoebe snuggled deeper into her lover and smiled as one large hand smoothed over the roundness of her hip. ‘Licence my roving hands,’ she murmured, ‘and let them go…’

‘Before, behind, above, below,’ he answered, caressing.

Stretching like a sleepy cat, Phoebe turned to him again, offering him her lips.

The next morning she drove the phaeton over to Mortlake, hoping to persuade Leon to take up residence at Ferry House until his future and health were more settled. The patient, having benefited from a long rest, careful nursing and the best food that Ransome’s cook could devise, had changed beyond recognition from the pathetic creature he had been only a few days ago to the usual nattily dressed beau with trimmed black hair, and eyes that had already begun to show the blue-whites of health. Naturally, there was an apologetic air clouding his more usual confidence, as if he was still unsure what had happened to him, or why, or what he could do about it. ‘Whatever you think, Pheeb,’ he said. ‘I’ll stay at Ferry House if you want me to. Though it’s all a bit temporary, isn’t it?’

‘We’ll see, love. No need to make decisions all at once.’

To avoid Claudette’s curiosity, Ransome had left Ferry House at first light. Agreeing to Leon’s change of venue, he had offered to convey his luggage later on in the coach where it would be unremarked by wagging tongues, an arrangement that gave the brother and sister a chance to be alone. Leon could not remember ever visiting Ferry House, and the difference in its appearance did nothing to aid his memory. Not until the gates opened for the phaeton did he realise that this was the lovely house he had lost over a game of chance.

‘Oh,
Pheeb,’
he said in a subdued voice. ‘Is this it? Your home?’

In theory, there had been an opportunity for her to explain exactly what the plan was and how it had come about so soon, after her well-known antipathy to Lord Ransome. But sitting side by side over a bumpy road with her attention more on her driving than on affairs of the heart was hardly the best way to do it. She decided to wait until the meeting and greeting was over.

The welcome almost overwhelmed him. Hetty, Claudette and Tabby Maskell had all changed in varying degrees, but Claudette most of all. They had not met for years, but Hetty’s later reference to the Prodigal Son was not so far out, except for the fatted calf, and soon he was being shown round the house and garden, Claudette not realising that her enthusiasm for her lovely home was somewhat misplaced, in the circumstances. It was Tabby, her governess, who noticed the despairing expression on Uncle Leon’s comely face and who suggested that he needed a rest. With his sister. Alone.

‘Listen, Pheeb,’ he said, flopping into a chair in her study. ‘I’ve had time to think about all this… well, about you, that is. I’ve still got the family home on Harley Street. It’s not as big as this one and it doesn’t have the garden either, but there’s enough room for you and—’

‘Leon, stop…love. The problem has been solved already.’ It was not the kind of news one could blurt out in a rush to someone recovering from the mother of all hangovers. It had to be administered by degrees, like medicine.

‘What?’ he frowned, accepting the coffee cup she passed him. ‘Is there something going on between you and Ransome? What’s he been up to? You’ve never liked him, and now suddenly you’re speaking. And why is he doing all this for me, after what he… Oh, it was my own damned fault. Why deny it?’

‘Leon, let me explain. We came to an agreement, that’s all.’ Whichever way she tried it, the words seemed to take on a new ambiguity.

The coffee cup clattered. ‘An agreement? That’s
not
all, Pheeb, is it? You’ve sold yourself to him, haven’t you? For this place. For me. Is that it?’

‘I have not
sold
myself, Leon. Don’t over-dramatise things so.’

‘But you’ve agreed to become his mistress, and he’s letting you stay here. Don’t try to pull the wool over my eyes, because I can see clearly now. All that polite accord, after you couldn’t stand the sight of him?’ He stood up, ramrod straight, alert and, she thought, rather insulted.

How could she make him understand? ‘Please, will you
listen
to me?’

But it was already too late. Even as she spoke, a man’s voice could be heard in the hall, the wail of a child, a woman’s high whine.

‘Damn!’ said Leon. ‘That’s Ross, isn’t it? What does
he
want?’

At once, Phoebe saw her chance of an explanation slip away, Leon being more confused, herself trying to defend him from Ross’s accusations and scheming. Grabbing him by the arm, she pulled him to face her. ‘Please, Leon, let me handle this, will you? I know what they’ve come for. Don’t look shocked, for pity’s sake. Look as if you
know.’

‘Know what?’

‘What I’m about to
tell
them, dammit! Ross… Josephine! What a surprise, so
soon.
And Arthur. Hello, young man. Might it be best if we were to sit in the parlour? I don’t receive visitors in here.’ Taking control of things before
they
did, Phoebe thought, was the best way to deal with this family gathering. Nothing she could have done, or said, however, could have lessened the open-mouthed astonishment on the faces of Ross and his wife.

Ross drew himself up like an army officer about to lecture a new recruit. ‘Oh!’ he said. ‘What are
you
doing here?’

‘Taking coffee with my sister, Ross. Good morning, dear Josephine. You’re looking as well as ever. Good heavens, how the infant has grown.’

‘When did you arrive?’ Ross wanted to know, solicitor-like. Leon’s presence had clearly unsettled him, his hard look at his wife seeming to imply that whatever they had come for might have to be approached from a different angle.

Leon’s presence did no such thing for Josephine’s line of attack, for her cross-examination began even before Ross had an answer to his first question, and no sooner had they trouped across to the parlour than she demanded to be told all the details of what exactly Leon thought he was doing to place poor
dear
Phoebe in such a
dreadful
position, in that
awful
man’s dependence. And did he not know that
they
had been the first to offer her their—?

‘Your
what,
Josephine?’ Phoebe said, politely. ‘What was it you and Ross offered me? Do you know, I’ve quite forgotten.’

‘I don’t think that’s relevant,’ Ross said, lifting up the squealing child. ‘The thing is, we’ve found a way round the problem, so it’s just as well you’re here, Leon, because it involves you.’

‘Oh, you
do
surprise me, brother,’ said Leon, wincing at the ear-splitting howl emanating from Arthur’s huge pink mouth. ‘But do you think we could discuss my involvement without the accompaniment?’

It took several minutes for the unhappy child to be taken off to the garden with his cousin, for coffee to be poured and handed round by the ubiquitous Hetty, and for Leon to discover that, if nothing else, his sartorial aptitude exceeded his brother’s by a mile. Which boosted his morale enough for him to initiate the next phase of the ‘who-has-done-most’ discussion, and to bestow a smile of something close to enjoyment upon Hetty. ‘Sugar, but no milk, thank you, Het,’ he said. ‘Now, Ross, what’s this solution you have in mind? Does it involve me alone, or all of us?’

Ross cleared his throat, but he was too slow.

Josephine did not intend to cede this moment to anyone. ‘It was my idea,’ she said, taking a biscuit. ‘I wrote to Lady Templeman in reply to her letter. Well, as a daughter-inlaw, I had to do what I could to ease her mind, didn’t I? Poor lady. And I knew she was in no position to offer dear Phoebe a room at—’

‘I should hope not,’ said Leon, stoutly, ‘when
dear
Pheeb could hardly wait to get away from the place. I’ve just sugg—’

‘Leon!’ said Phoebe. ‘Allow Josephine to continue, if you please.’

His eyebrows flickered, but the message was understood.

‘Thank you, Phoebe. As I was saying, I have proposed to Lady Templeman that Leon should make
his
house available to you as your home. After all, he should be the one to be inconvenienced, and although I realise that—’

‘You did
what
?’ Phoebe said, sharply, pinning her sister-in-law back into her seat with a dagger-like look. ‘Did it occur to you that I might wish to be consulted on the matter, Josephine? Did
you,
Ross?’

Josephine blinked at her biscuit and replaced it on her plate. ‘Well, what would have been the point in that, dear? Were you in a position to…?’

‘When I am
not
in a position to make my own decisions regarding my future, Josephine, you may carry me off in a coffin. And what about Leon? Is he not to be consulted about who lives with him?’

‘Leon has been in no position to be consulted about anything,’ said Ross. ‘Has he?’

‘How d’ye know that?’ said Leon, looking across at his younger brother with a sobriety that impressed Phoebe, after what she’d seen yesterday. ‘You haven’t exactly made it your business to find out
what
my position was, have you, Ross? Ransome was the one to offer me help. He actually came to find me.’

‘But we
are
offering you help, Leon,’ Josephine whined, glancing at her husband in the hope of support. ‘And Phoebe too. We thought it would be best for both of you, now everything has changed. Didn’t we, Mr Hawkin, dear?’

Phoebe stepped in before he could say ‘yes, dear.’ ‘So which of you is going to break the news to me that you’ve made an offer for Ferry House? Which of you two is the most confused between opportunism, greed, help and downright interference?’

‘Pheeb,’ said Leon, quietly. ‘Sit down, love. Let Ross explain. He’s used to making out a good case, aren’t you, brother?’

Ross’s shifty eyes flitted between his siblings like a shuttlecock waiting to fall. When they did, it was upon his hands, thumbs twitching. ‘We came to tell you about that, too, Phoebe. It was part of our…er…’

‘Plan? Scheme?’

‘Part of our rescue. Lord Ransome has agreed to discuss the matter with me tomorrow morning. That’s why we thought you should know today. I’m sorry. We understand how disappointed you must be.’

‘Oh, don’t concern yourself about me, Ross. Not at this late stage. And dear Josephine, wanting rooms for another nurse, and larger gardens, and—’

‘You’ve seen the letter?’ Ross said. ‘Oh!’

‘This is most entertaining,’ Leon murmured, looking askance at Hetty.

‘Have
you
seen my letter too, then?’ Ross snapped at him.

‘Not yet. But I can imagine whose grand idea it was.’ His darkly studied look switched from Hetty to Josephine in a slow blink that sent a blush of guilty pink into her cheeks. Before she could retaliate, however, Leon had more to say. ‘I dare say I’m letting the cat out of the bag somewhat prematurely, my dears, but I think you ought to be appraised of the facts before you go chasing any more fancy ideas about buying Ferry House. Phoebe will not be leaving. The house is not for sale.’

‘Leon!’
Phoebe’s wail held every nuance of shock and anger. ‘You must not say another
word.’

‘Sorry, love. I’m not going to sit here and let my younger brother think he’s taken the cherry off the cake. I am still the eldest, and my head is as clear as a bell-jar in your garden. I realise you’d not meant Ross and Josephine to know before Ransome could tell them—’

‘Tell us
what
?’ Ross barked, petulantly.

‘Oh…sorry, I’m running ahead of myself…that he’s Pheeb’s lover.’

The high yelp from Josephine went unnoticed.

‘What?’ Ross squeaked.

‘Yes, they’ll be living here themselves, you see.’

With her eyes half-closed, Phoebe sat very still, watching a beam of sunlight dance across the blue-and-white coffee cups. She had not for a moment thought that Leon would assess the situation so fast or so accurately when she had not denied his first indignant accusation, which had not, she saw it now, been an accusation at all. Nor had he been insulted, only suddenly comprehending what he thought he’d seen between them. She had intended to break the news herself, but how much better to come from Leon, even if it was a bit of a gamble that he’d get it right.

‘She didn’t want to shock you, you see,’ Leon was saying, unable to keep a gurgle of laughter out of his voice, ‘because she knows how you feel about that kind of thing, but the attraction has always
been
there, hasn’t it? Even when…well, never mind that. It just
had
to happen one day. I expect that was what Ransome was going to tell you tomorrow, Ross.’

‘Oh!’ Josephine cried with a hand clasped to her forehead. ‘His
mistress?
How
could
you, Phoebe? That’s… quite…disgraceful!’

‘Is it true, Phoebe?’ Ross growled.

‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘It is. Lord Ransome would have told you about it.’

He stood up, hooking a hand beneath his wife’s arm. ‘Then I have no more to say, and no more help to offer. We did our best.’

‘That will be a severe blow to her,’ said Leon, ‘but I doubt she’ll notice it much. Perhaps you could write another letter to Mama, Josephine, with the good news. Tell her not to change any of her plans, won’t you?’

Turning to Phoebe, Josephine’s pale red-rimmed eyes were cold with dislike. ‘I had not realised how desperate you must be to remain here, Phoebe. I never thought you would go that far, knowing what kind of a man he is. Has he told you about the children he keeps at Greenwater?’

‘I know about the children, thank you, Josephine.’