Clio gave Aaron a look that Phoebe had seen countless times on Hannah’s features, which was a comparison she chose not to investigate too closely, even with the newfound warmth she felt toward her husband.
“Of course, Aaron,” she said sweetly. “So, shall we go?”
Aaron had grumbled something that approximated assent, and so they had departed, Clio’s beaming grin practically burning them with its brilliance.
The moment that they’d arrived at the ball, some gentlemen had rounded on Aaron like vultures on carrion. He had shot Phoebe and Clio a betrayed look before turning to the conversation.
Clio had proved immediately popular, which Phoebe supposed was no surprise. Not only was she newly returned to London, but she was beautiful, charming, wealthy, and well-connected. It was quite the list of appealing qualities to gentlemen of theton—and their mothers who might usher them in the direction of a profitable potential bride. Phoebe didn’t begrudge her the popularity, even if shedidfeel a bit awkward standing off by herself.
Soon, however, she spotted Hannah and was glad that she was alone—as her sister was beckoning frantically to her from her position where she stood half-concealed by a very large potted fern.
Alarmed, Phoebe rushed over.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, keeping her voice low even as her eyes ran over her sister, looking for some sign of physical distress. Was Hannah hurt? Was there something wrong with the babe?
“Loyd’smotheris here,” Hannah said in tones of utter horror, and Phoebe really had to hold herself back from smacking her sister upside the head.
“Good Lord, Hannah,” Phoebe said, dropping her head back in her exasperation. “I thought you wereinjured.” Then anotherthought occurred to her. “Does this mean that Loyd told his mother who you are?”
Hannah pouted. “No,” she said, and Phoebe wasn’t certain if this was good news or bad news. On one hand, if Dowager Lady Loyd knew about Hannah and Hannah was still hiding, it didn’t bode well for any upcoming nuptials between Hannah and her lover. On the other hand, if Loydstillhadn’t spoken to his mother, Phoebe was even more tempted to punch him in the jaw.
“Hannah,” she said, trying not to sound overmuch like a scolding parent, “he cannot delay any longer.” She hated to say it, but she couldn’t let it go unremarked upon. “Are you sure he… intends to actually do so?”
Hannah’s expression went wide and wounded.
“Of course, he does!” she insisted. “He’s just trying to ease the way. He already told his mother that there’s someone he fancies. She was very cross to start, but he said that she’s adjusting to the idea. Soon enough, he will be able to tell her who I am!”
Phoebe rubbed her forehead tiredly. Aaron had been right. Leaving the house had been a grievous mistake.
“So the two of you have been in contact?” she asked. She didn’t even want to know how Hannah was carrying on this affair of hers. It seemed like one of those cases in which she would only regret learning details.
Again, Hannah looked appalled, but this time her ire was evidently directed at Phoebe’s foolishness.
“Of course,” she said. “We’rein love. Wouldn’t you want to talk to someone you love?”
Phoebe fought not to flinch at the doubtfulness in Hannah’s tone, like she could not imagine any kind of world in which Phoebe might love someone.
Phoebe resisted the urge to look around the room for her husband, not when she needed to focus on her sister.
“We write letters,” Hannah said with clear pride at this brilliant gambit. “He signs with a false name to hide our tracks.”
“Grand,” Phoebe said wearily.
She was becoming extraordinarily concerned that Hannah was treating this all like a lark, like she was just some girl enjoying the thrill of exchanging clandestine letters with a handsome young boy—and not like a woman who was, in only a few short months, about to become an unwed mother, shunned by Society if that lover didn’t manage to behave like an adult and speak to his own goddamned mother!
But Phoebe recognized the stubborn set to Hannah’s shoulders, so she didn’t argue—not here, not now. Instead, she just promised to make Hannah’s excuses to Clio and Aaron and lefther sister hiding behind the plant, apparently content to remain there.
Clio was still dancing, and she didn’t immediately see her husband, so she wandered out to the veranda to think. It was freezing out there, but the chill kept everyone else inside.
That was good. She needed to think.
“You’ll catch your death, sweetness.” Aaron’s voice was a low rumble from behind her, the sound followed by the heavy drape of his coat over her shoulders. The wool was warm from his body, and it carried the wafting scent of Aaron’s shaving soap.
“What about you?” she asked, turning to smile up at him even as she clutched the coat contentedly around her.
He shrugged. “It was a positive crush inside. I’ll have a moment before any chill gets me.”
Phoebe smiled at him. London Society was thin for the holiday season, and the ball was not remotely a crush, and it wasn’t nearly as warm inside as it would have been at a ball during the social Season. It was ridiculous that she found it wonderful that he was lying just to please her. She used to be a reasonable woman before her husband got his hands on her.
