“You don’t need to flatter me, Aaron,” she said. “I’m already in the carriage.”
He couldn’t resist pulling her across the carriage to sit beside him. He couldn’t quite deny that she felt good, tucked up against his side.
The house where the soldiers lived was nondescript, though it had a lovely sloping lawn that overlooked a small pond. Right now, it was more like a divot full of ice, but in the spring and summer, it was very nice. Despite the chill, several men were standing around outside, some alone, some in small groups. One was smoking a cheroot while leaning heavily on a crutch to make up for his missing leg.
Aaron checked on Phoebe’s expression as they disembarked from the carriage, inspecting her for any traces of pity. The men here were sensitive to such things.
But he found that she looked appropriately somber and faintly curious, though not in a way that felt exploitative or salacious. It was more the expression that she might wear when visiting any new locale.
And then she turned away from the house and gave him an encouraging smile.
“Ready?” she asked.
And to his surprise, he found that he actually was.
“That’s a trick,” said Mr. Daniel Gibbons, formerly a warrant officer in his Majesty’s navy, cheerfully as he threw down a card.
Phoebe groaned and threw her cards down on the table in dismay. Her partner, Mr. Charles Chime, formerly a sergeant in His Majesty’s army, copied her gesture with a grunt of dismay.
“This is why ye cannae trust the navy men,” he said slowly, his words somewhat distorted by several large scars that cut through his face. It had taken one of his eyes and done some damage to his cheek and nose, but he was quite a good whist partner.
Not good enough to stop them from getting trounced by Mr. Gibbons and his partner, fellow Navy man Mr. Russell Boll.
“As much as I’d like to blame our losses on anything other than my dismal gameplay,” Phoebe retorted as Mr. Gibbons shuffled the cards for their next set, “I am married to a navy man myself, so I shall have to seek another reason.”
The three men exchanged amused glances, any rivalries abandoned.
“Indeed,” said Mr. Boll, leaning back in his chair. “The Admiral.”
Phoebe arched a brow at him. Former soldiers, she had learned quickly during her visit, were as dreadful about gossiping as Society matrons. They hadclearlybeen curious about her from the moment she had arrived, but they hadn’t let their defenses down until after Aaron had stepped away and Phoebe had agreed to a game of whist. This had momentarily distracted them, as apparently, they sometimes struggled to find a fourth.
But now that Phoebe had raised the topic of her marriage, their curiosity was roused anew.
Phoebe was not about to be intimidated. They might be savvier than she when it came to battle, but she was the expert when it came to sidelong glances and sly little comments.
“Is there something you wanted to ask me, Mr. Boll?” she asked, crossing her arms.
Mr. Boll had all of his limbs, but one arm was in a sling. Some injury had caused it to be permanently unresponsive to his desires, but he tucked his uninjured arm behind the sling to mimic her pose.
“Indeed, there is, Your Grace,” he said. His expression was so grave, and his pause so pronounced that, for a moment, Phoebeactually got nervous. Then he grinned, revealing a chipped tooth that added character to his smile.
“How,” he asked in a low voice, “did youpossiblymanage to pin that man down?”
Phoebe was startled into a laugh that was far overshadowed by the guffaws from the other three.
“You’re terrible,” she accused.
Mr. Boll shrugged his good shoulder.
“There’s little for entertainment around here, but some well-meaning woman donated us a whole shelf of books that are, shall we say,daring.” Phoebe raised an eyebrow at him; Mr. Boll did not look at all sorry. “It has brought my romantic side to the surface.”
She rolled her eyes, but she already felt a sense of fondness toward the men. Not everyone here had been friendly or eager to see her—not that she took it personally, given that they were all here for their own reasons and fighting their own demons—but these three were clearly very social, and Phoebe could tell that they were a bit starved for novelty.
As someone who had frequently been reckless enough to sneak out at night by herself, she could understand that desire perfectly well.
“I am afraid you’re destine for disappointment, then,” she said. “Ours is a verytonnisharrangement; we married for the practical reasons, not for romantic ones.”
She wasn’t precisely certain what Aaron’s reasons were, of course…
