The Seduction of Lady Phoebe (9 page)

Three evenings later Marcus kept to the sides of the large ballroom, trying to avoid being introduced to any more young ladies in need of husbands, as he searched for Phoebe. His frustration grew when it was forcibly borne upon him he didn’t know her aunt’s name or direction, and there wasn’t anyone he could ask without engendering questions he didn’t wish to answer.

This was the second ball he’d attended that evening, the fourth in the three days since they’d met. His height allowed him to see over most everyone’s heads, but there was no sign of Phoebe’s unique red-gold hair.

Marcus was beginning to despair of ever seeing her again. He may as well have attended the political dinner with his father, from which he’d begged off. Disappointed, Marcus left and made his way home.

The next morning after breakfast, Marcus joined his father in the study to work on a bill his father was proposing.

“You should have come to the dinner at Abemarle House last evening, Marcus,” Papa said. “You could have met some of the younger members of the party. Lord St. Eth told me Fairport would be in Town soon. You remember him, don’t you?”

Marcus listened absently. “Yes, a friend of Arthur’s.”

If Marcus wasn’t looking for Phoebe, he’d rather be with his brother. How much more time would he have with Arthur before he died?

His father nodded. “St. Eth had his niece with him. Now there is a charming young lady with a great deal of sense. A pretty little thing, Lady Phoebe Stanhope, Cranbourne’s sister, you know. We’ve only met her a couple of times. Never seems to be around when we’ve visited your sister. She will make a very astute political hostess someday, if the right man snaps her up. Just the sort of lady you should be looking for.” His father paused for a moment. “Now that I think of it, wasn’t that the reason Amabel invited you to visit?”

Marcus had been letting his father’s prattle wash over him until he heard Lady Phoebe’s name. His heart beat more rapidly as he attempted to maintain a languid drawl. “Yes, Papa. Only Lady Phoebe wasn’t there. Between your recommendation and Amabel’s, Lady Phoebe does indeed sound like a female I would like to meet. Do you happen to know which balls and so forth she’d attend?”

His father lifted his head from his papers and frowned, finally focusing his eyes on his son. “As Lady Phoebe is staying with her aunt and uncle, the Marquis and Marchioness of St. Eth, I image Lady Phoebe will attend the more political events.”

Dunwood put his papers aside. “Since you seem interested in the connection, and your mother has arrived, we’ll attend Lady Trevor’s ball to-morrow evening. I’ll tell you that you should attend. You may accompany us. There will be a political meeting before the dancing begins.”

If there was a chance Phoebe would be present, Marcus planned to be present, though, it might be more difficult to hide his identity from her at that type of entertainment. Even so, with Beaumont’s interest in Phoebe, Marcus was running out of time.

Later that evening, Isabel, Marchioness of Dunwood, looked up from her book when her husband walked into her bedchamber. “You look pleased, my dear.”

“I am. I think Marcus will finally take my advice concerning an eligible lady,” Lord Dunwood said proudly. “He seemed very interested when I told him about Lady Phoebe Stanhope.”

“I wonder where he met Lady Phoebe,” Isabel softly mused.

“Do you, indeed, think he
has
met her before?” her lord said with some little skepticism. “He’s never mentioned her, and he said nothing to lead me to believe he had. She was my recommendation.”

Isabel smiled softly. “My love, when have you ever known Marcus to be interested in a lady because
you
say she’s interesting? You have, I daresay, suggested a great many young women to him since he’s returned, and he has shown no interest at all in any of them—except this one. Of course he’s met Lady Phoebe before.” Isabel tapped her chin. “But how and where? A mystery.”

Phoebe’s frustration was reaching new heights. Though they’d remained home on Sunday, there had been two evenings of balls and dinners since then. At none of the events had she seen her knight-errant. She rose and paced, skirts swishing around her ankles, the only sound in the morning room other than her aunt opening mail.

“Aunt Ester, where could he be?” Phoebe stopped. The terrible thought that he might not be a member of the
ton
crossed her mind, again, only to be immediately dismissed. Life could not be that cruel.

“I don’t understand why we haven’t seen him.”

“Remember, my dear,” Aunt Ester replied calmly, “we have gone only to political parties. Perhaps he is not in those circles.”

If only they’d had a bit more time together before Aunt Ester arrived, perhaps he would have asked for her direction. Had she given him a disgust of her by being too forward and telling him her name? But no, he’d not wanted to release her hand when Aunt Ester took her away. If only Phoebe could think of something to bring about another meeting.

But there was nothing. She tried to keep the discontent from her voice. “I know I’ll meet him again. Though I do wish it were not taking so long.”

“My dear,” Aunt Ester said, looking up from her mail, “I received a letter from Hester. She and John are coming to Town. They’ll break their journey with Hermione and Edwin, and then they will all travel here together.”

That was good news at least. Phoebe exclaimed, “Oh, Aunt Ester, if anyone is able to help me find my knight-errant, my sisters will.”

Later that evening, Ester snuggled in bed with Henry and discussed the past few days. She’d not had a chance to tell him about Phoebe and didn’t know what he’d make of the young man with whom Phoebe was so enamored. She frowned. “It appears, my love, Phoebe has found an interest in a gentleman.”

He put down the papers he was reading. “What delightful news. Who is it and why are you not happy about it?” Henry met her frown with one of his own. “Don’t tell me he’s a Tory.”

When she’d finished, Henry asked, “You say, my dear, he looked a gentleman? You know it would not do for her to pick someone ineligible.”

“Yes, Phoebe knows it as well. Dress, countenance, a well-bred air. His manners seem to be a little lacking. Although I looked at him most pointedly, he refused to give his name. Other than that, most definitely a gentleman. Though I must say, he was so taken with Phoebe he didn’t seem to notice I was present.”

“Hmm, interesting,” Henry mused. “Now all we have to do is find him.”

“Henry, pray, do not say that to Phoebe,” Ester said. “Given the least encouragement, she will go off on her own searching for him. I’ve convinced her, for the moment, he must seek her out. Which I am sure he will do.”

Henry chuckled. “After what you told me I don’t doubt it. That, of course, should make it easier.”

Henry drew Ester closer to him. “I received a letter from Fairport. He predicted this season would prove interesting. It is his opinion that Lord Marcus will be hunting Phoebe.”

Ester stiffened in disapproval. With what Phoebe had told her about her last encounter with Lord Marcus, Ester could not be happy about that prospect. “Well, I wish he would not.”

“I have to agree with you, my love. We must hope he’ll be cut out by this new gentleman of hers. I, like you, will be interested to see who he is. He cannot have been in London long or she would have previously met him.”

Ester suddenly sat up. “Of course, Henry, you’re right. I wonder why I didn’t think of that.”

“I do have my uses,” Henry murmured.

Ignoring him, she said, “I don’t think he’s been on the Town before at all. Their attraction seemed strong enough I don’t think they
could
have even seen each other before and one not noticed the other.”

She snuggled back against him, enjoying his warmth. “Hmm. If he has not found Phoebe by the time Hermione and Hester arrive, Hester shall take her to the entertainments we do not attend.”

“By the by,” Henry asked, “do you think Hester’s husband, John Caldecott, would be interested in running for the House?”

“My love!” Ester narrowed her eyes in exasperation. “
You
will have to speak to John on your own. We ladies are trying to bring about a marriage, which is just as important as parliament and much more interesting.”

Isabel, Marchioness of Dunwood, glanced up from her embroidery and smiled as Marcus entered her parlor. “Have you come to spend some time with me?”

His lips tilted up briefly but there was a bemused look in his face. “Yes, Mamma, if you’ll have me.”

He’d been settling in well, better than she had hoped. But he held his cards close to his chest, and she wondered if he was happy.

She patted the place on the couch next to her. “Tell me, what, other than politics and estate business, have you been doing?”

He’d been gone so long, this difficult son of hers. Something was bothering him. She waited, wondering if he’d tell her.

His tone was subdued. “Mamma, I have a problem with which, I think, you may be able to help.”

Perhaps she’d now learn more about Lady Phoebe. Isabel kept her budding excitement to herself and maintained a sober countenance. “Yes, my dear, of course I have time.”

Marcus paced briefly before sitting in a chair next to her. “Mamma, before I left for the West Indies, I fell in love, but I made a botch of it. She was very angry with me for good reason.”

She nodded encouragingly.

Marcus told her what he’d done to Phoebe eight years ago, what happened at the inn and in Bond Street, and about the attraction he was sure the lady felt.

“She didn’t recognize me and then her aunt took her away.”

The look in her son’s face reminded her strongly of when he was a child and had been focused on a difficult task.

Isabel bit her lower lip to keep from grinning. “Marcus, what do you mean she took her away? What were you doing?”

He explained more fully.

“And does this lady have a name?”

“Her name is Lady Phoebe Stanhope.”

Aha. The mystery is solved. “Her aunt acted most properly. And not a moment too soon from what you’ve told me. What, by all that is holy, were the two of you thinking of standing so close together in
Bond Street
, of all places, with all the world looking on?”

Looking ridiculously guilty, he asked, “What am I to do?”

There were times when difficult did not begin to describe him. “I understand why you did not wish to introduce yourself. Still, you will have to pay the piper at some point.”

Marcus raised one brow in an obvious attempt to regain his dignity.

She leaned forward and patted her son’s arm. “There is no point in looking at me in that odious way. I am not at all impressed. Although I am very shocked at your
extremely
disgraceful behavior eight years ago, there is also no point in bemoaning what is so far in the past. You will, of course, have to
convince
Lady Phoebe. But, my dear, what a coward you are being, to be sure.”

She picked up the glass of water on the table at her elbow and took a sip. What a task he’d set for himself. The object of his affection was famously inured to men. “Are you positive she is the only lady for you?”

He nodded. “She is the only lady I can love. She is the only lady I’ve ever loved.”

Isabel let out a sigh. “Well then, we must discover if she can return your affection. I expect she will lead you a very pretty dance.”

Phoebe arrived at the Trevors’ ball with her aunt and uncle to find the rooms filling with guests.

Aunt Ester looked around. “A very good showing for as early in the Season as this is.”

A man waved at Uncle Henry, and he excused himself to the ladies. “It looks as if we are having the meeting earlier than I’d thought.”

“Don’t worry, my darling,” Aunt Ester replied, “I knew how it would be. You’ll be back before the dancing begins. We shall find plenty to entertain ourselves with the other ladies. As long as you gentlemen watch the time, I’ll be satisfied.”

Uncle Henry took her hand and kissed it before taking his leave.

Phoebe spotted two ladies she knew. She’d been told that Lord Marcus was in town. Fortunately, she’d not run across him at any of the entertainments she had attended. He was probably too busy visiting the gaming hells. “Aunt Ester, I see Mrs. Spencer and Mrs. Burwell over there, do let us join them,” Phoebe said, referring to two middle-aged women on the other side of the room.

Phoebe and Aunt Ester strolled to the sofa upon which Mrs. Spencer sat with Mrs. Burwell. Both ladies greeted the new arrivals with pleasure.

“Lady Phoebe, it is so good to see you in Town,” Mrs. Spencer said.

Phoebe smiled and shook their hands. “Thank you, ma’am, it is a pleasure to see you, as well.”

“How long have you been here?” Mrs. Burwell asked.

“I arrived last week to do some shopping,” Phoebe replied, sitting in a chair.

Her statement prompted a spirited discussion of the fashions, which lasted until Mrs. Spencer turned the topic to the latest
on dits
. “So much has happened during the summer. Have you heard poor Lord Evesham is consumptive, and Dunwood brought his younger son, Lord Marcus Finley, back from somewhere in the West Indies, I believe it was?”