The Seduction of Lady Phoebe (15 page)

“I agree,” said her aunt. “The conversation is all wit and elegance. Perhaps, you will entertain in the same fashion.”

Phoebe smothered a yawn. “Aunt Ester, I’ll seek my bed now, if you don’t mind.”

“No, no, my dear. You run along.”

Needing to think, Phoebe bid her maid good night as soon as she was ready for bed and paced. If anyone had discovered Marcus kissing her tonight, she’d be betrothed, all choice taken from her—and it would have been her own fault.

She sunk onto the sofa and put her head in her hands, unable to believe she’d encouraged him. What would he think of her? That she was a loose woman? Would he treat her as he had before? Phoebe crossed her arms over her waist and rocked, knowing the worst thing was she’d enjoyed every moment and couldn’t wait to kiss him again.

Chapter Ten

T
he morning dawned fair but considerably cooler than in the days previous. From her window, Phoebe saw her phaeton was being brought around as Lord Marcus climbed the steps.

She was descending as he said, “Good morning, Ferguson.”

“Good morning, my lord. I shall send a message to Lady Phoebe at once, if you would like to step into the parlor.”

“That won’t be necessary, Ferguson,” Lord Marcus said.

Phoebe watched as his gaze took her in. She’d dressed in a bronzy-gold carriage gown, cut in a military style, but plainly trimmed. Atop her head was a shako style hat. She knew she looked well, but she didn’t think any other man viewed her the way he did—as if she was the only woman in the world.

Lord Marcus smiled and bowed. “Good morning, my lady. You’re punctual this morning.”

What was it about him that cheered her, even after her doubts of the evening before? She replied with mocking tartness, “Good morning, my lord. I usually am punctual, however, I didn’t know if you were. It would not have done for
me
to stand around in the hall waiting for
you
to arrive.”

His lips quivered. “Ah, now that you have so kindly explained your point to me, I find your reasoning entirely understandable.”

She finished descending the stairs and he took her arm, and led her to the phaeton.

Upon reaching the Park, Phoebe slowed her blacks to a walk and cast Marcus a sidelong glance. There was so much she needed to know about him. “Lord Marcus, I do not wish to seem impertinent.” She knitted her brows, trying to find the right words. “You said you were different and that I had a hand in that.” Phoebe paused and tried not to rush her fences. “You appear to have changed in so many ways. I’ve wondered how that happened. What you’ve gone through in your transformation.”

Lord Marcus stared ahead and was still for so long she began to think she’d made an error in asking and that he wouldn’t answer. She felt it when his gaze rested on her again.

“You know what I was,” he began and took a breath. “When I came down from Oxford, it was the first time in my life I had nothing to occupy me. I was always the second son, but I was quite a wealthy second son. My closest friends had estates to manage or learn to manage. I was left on my own, at loose ends and ripe for any lark.”

His lips tightened. “I fell in with a group of young men who encouraged me to engage in any vice I wished. Fortunately, I was still a minor and news of my doings came pretty quickly to my father’s attention. He decided to send me away. Banish me before I ruined the family name.”

Marcus rubbed his face. “Covey, my groom, was the only servant who would accompany me. I was set to sail not many days after I’d left the Worthingtons. I drank heavily during that time. When Covey got me onboard the ship, I was still half sprung and felt ill for a few days.”

“Mal de mer?”
Phoebe asked.

“No.” He grinned. “It was, as my mother would say, my turn to pay the piper. When I started to feel better, I looked for something to do, something to occupy my time. The ship’s captain, Grant was his name, took me under his wing and taught me to sail. By the time I’d arrived in Jamaica, I was looking forward to managing the estates, and discovering what life the West Indies had to offer. I had only one regret.”

“What was that?”

“You. What I said, what I did. Despite all else, my feelings for you were true and never changed. But I had to become deserving of you.”

Phoebe glanced at her horses and the Serpentine. Whatever she’d expected, it was not that. And she did not know if she wanted to hear more. She forced herself to breathe. “I’m—I am glad you were able to turn your life around.”

“Phoebe, I couldn’t have done it without you.”

She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

He spoke in a low voice. “You told me to put others first and to treat people with respect. In Jamaica, no one knew me, I had a clean slate. I took your advice and prospered.”

Other pieces of his story started to fall into place. Her throat tightened. “You knew you were being banished when you were at Lady W’s?”

He closed his eyes, groaned and opened them again. “Yes. It was to be my last party in England. Phoebe, open your budget, what is it you wish to know?”

She brought the phaeton to a stop under a low hanging tree. Her mind in turmoil, it was impossible for her to drive and have this conversation. “I want to know why you did what you did to me that day.”

“Why I tried to kiss you?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yes. Why you did all of it. Why you treated me in that horribly despicable fashion before you tried to kiss me. Acting as if I was some sort of . . .”

“Something cheap? Rather than something very precious?”

“Yes, that’s it.” Phoebe held his gaze, refusing to allow him to look away. What he’d done had haunted her for eight years.

Marcus’s eyes darkened. He reached out with one finger and lightly caressed her cheek. When she tensed, he dropped his hand. “I was an imbecile. I did all of it because I knew I was sailing from England in ten days, for I knew not how long, and I was in love with you. I needed you, wanted you to accompany me. You tried to understand me, who I was as a man. No one else had ever taken the time to do that. I’d been so spoilt and cosseted by the women I had been with, under the influence of the brandy I drank for the courage to ask you, it never occurred to me you would turn me down. I refused to allow myself to consider your age or your quality. I convinced myself that you felt as I did. When I staggered and . . . touched you inappropriately, I passed through Heaven to Hell. I knew I’d lost you.”

Phoebe couldn’t bring herself to speak. She had heard many young men behaved strangely. But she’d always blamed herself, at least partly, for his actions that weekend. “I thought I’d done something to cause you to deport yourself in that way.”

Marcus took her hand. “No. You are never to blame yourself for my shortcomings. I should not have done what I did, and the only person at fault is me for drinking so heavily and losing control. I’ve wished for years, I’d treated you as I should have, and I’ve never imbibed as much again. The cost was far too dear.”

She felt as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. “I didn’t know. I didn’t understand. You frightened me so much.”

Marcus had an oddly arrested expression on his face. “Would it have made a difference if you had understood? Phoebe, I had so many devils to deal with. You were only sixteen, as I was later to learn, and I was a fool. If you had responded favorably to me, I was fully prepared to take you to Gretna Green. Lord only knows how I would have treated you in Jamaica.”

Phoebe’s eyes opened in shock. Had he actually said that? “Marcus, you would not have done that.
Gretna Green? And then Jamaica?
Not to mention that I was fifteen.”

“Oh, God. Fifteen?”

She nodded.

“I would have and your papa would have pilloried me,” Marcus said. “It was a deemed good thing you knocked me down. It probably saved the both of us from years of my youthful stupidity.”

What would have happened if he’d treated her differently? If he’d been the way he was now. But, of course, then he would not have been banished. “I would not have gone with you. I was aware you were interested in me, and I did feel something. But then you gave me such a disgust of you. The way you treated me, your lack of interest in almost anything other than yourself, how you expected to be treated with regard but did not return the respect of others, and you always seemed a trifle on the go.”

She shook her head slowly. “There was nothing healthy or well about you. I knew something was wrong, though I had no idea you were such a loose fish.”

Marcus’s eyes danced as he pursed his lips primly. “And what, my lady, do
you
know of ‘loose fish’? I know I have been away for a long time, but I had no idea it was proper for ladies to use cant terms.”

Phoebe blushed. “You,
wretch,
our conversations betray me into saying the most shocking things. You know very well I should not have used that term.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but she rushed in with questions regarding the West Indies estates and their management.

Marcus answered her queries and told her about the time pirates tried to capture his ship. “I’ve always thought St. Vincent could not have been a very
successful
pirate. We didn’t have that hard of a time repulsing his attack and taking his boat. By the time we made port with both the vessels, mostly undamaged, my reputation as a pirate fighter was made.”

His self-deprecating smile touched her heart, and she wondered if the adventure was as much fun as he made it sound.

“You’ve had a very interesting life since you left England,” Phoebe replied wistfully. “Do you ever wish you had not been sent away?”

Marcus shook his head. “No, never. I don’t want to think what I would have become. Nothing good.” He said in a teasing tone, “Unless, of course, you’d married me.”

Oh, the wicked devil. How different her life would have been. But no, she hadn’t even wanted him to touch her all those years ago. “
I
have become much more reasonable than I was at fifteen.
You, sir,
would have been living under the cat’s paw had we married then.”

“Ah, but I would have loved it,” he drawled languidly.

His eyes teased her and he smiled as her cheeks grew warm. She shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as she was. “What a bouncer. You
are
right. It was a very good thing you were sent away.” She stopped, surprised at her candor. “The things you make me say. I’m very . . .”

He put his hand over hers. “No, no, don’t apologize. I don’t think I could have told another female what I’ve told you. Most of them, I dare say, would’ve had vapors. I’ve never met a woman whose ideas and views are so compatible with mine.”

“You purposely tempt me to be indelicate.”

“But I have to tempt you. It’s the only thing I can do to get you to blush.” Marcus grinned boyishly. “You look so adorable when you do.”

Would her cheeks ever be cool again? “You, my lord, say the most
outrageous
things.”

He placed a finger under her chin and tilted her head up. Was he going to kiss her here, in the Park? Fear rose within her and she froze.

“Phoebe, smile for me, please,” he said, lowering his hand.

She gazed into his eyes and gave him a small smile.

“Thank you. I promise, I’ll never hurt you again. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do. I’m not that man anymore.”

Marcus had sensed her skittishness when he’d tilted her head up. Even now, there was distrust and fear in her eyes. He never wanted to see that expression again when she looked at him. Phoebe reminded him of a wary colt. He’d done that to her. Somehow he had to find a way to repair the damage.

She started the horses. “We’d better go, before anyone sees us.”

That stung his ego a bit, but he remained silent as they drove out of the park. Phoebe gave him a sidelong glance. “My aunt and I are attending Lady Thornhill’s drawing room this afternoon. Would you like to escort us?”

Relieved by the invitation, he replied, “There is nothing I’d like better, unfortunately, I have promised to escort my mother to the same event, but I shall see you at Lady Thornhill’s.”

“Yes, I think you will like it. There are poets and artists and all manner of people.”

When Phoebe pulled up in front of St. Eth House, Marcus turned in the direction she was looking.

Two women were with Lady St. Eth. They were indistinguishable from each other and looked remarkably like Phoebe, having the same vivid blue eyes set under nicely arched brows. Their hair was not quite as red as Phoebe’s, but Marcus had no doubt the ladies must be her sisters.

“Phoebe.” One of them called to her.

“Hermione, Hester.”

“Phoebe, you hoyden. Come down from there this instant. You cannot shout in Grosvenor Square. What will people think?” exclaimed the other, quite as loud as Phoebe.

Lady St. Eth shook her head. “Both of you are sad romps and will set tongues wagging.” She pressed her lips firmly together but they still twitched. What would it be like to belong to such a close family?

The other sister stood next to Lady St. Eth, eyes alight, smiling widely.

Phoebe glanced at him, her eyes shining. “My sisters, Hester and Hermione.”