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“I ran to you,” she whispered as if she had read his thoughts.
Suddenly aware that every emotion of his might be revealed on his face, he schooled his expression into an indifferent mask.
“I know our union is improbable; I only ask that you keep my confidence and do not alert my family that I am here.”
She glanced longingly at the bed, and when she stepped away, she swayed. He lunged and grasped her elbows gently, causing her to lean against him slightly. Unexpected desire skittered across Hugh’s nerve endings, and he released her immediately but hovered close. She sucked in a sharp breath and glanced up at him. The beauty of her eyes stole his reasoning for precious moments. Hugh scowled, and with a soft gasp, she stepped further away.
“I’ll only need a few days to rest before I leave your home. Once again, I am dreadfully sorry to have importuned upon your household.”
He nodded once. A yawn seemed to catch her by surprise, and she flushed. Her lovely face was then suffused with exhaustion, and another wide yawn escaped from her. Hugh waved toward the bed. A pulse of tenderness swept through him, and he frowned at the oddity of it. He wanted to give her some words of reassurance, but he could not.
He sketched a bow and made his way from the room. Hugh could not dismiss Lady Phoebe’s fear and hurt from his mind. Somehow her desperation and pain clawed its way deep inside him and hooked itself.
What am I to do about you, Lady Phoebe, what am I to do?
Chapter Five
Late into the darkest hours of the night, Phoebe lay on the bed, unable to sleep. All she could hear was the rain beating against the windows, the howl of the wind, and the sharp crackle from the roaring fireplace. Surrounded by warmth and luxurious elegance, yet she felt so alone and out of place. She was exhausted from trying to find another solution to save her baby. Now that she was in Scotland, it would take a few weeks of traveling to reach her aunt in Cornwall. She was also certain her mother would expect Phoebe to attempt to travel there.
When she’d overheard her mother planning to transport her away from society to a remote area in Lincolnshire, the duchess’s tone had been icy and emotionless. Phoebe suspected her mother had not informed Papa of his daughter’s circumstances, for surely, she would have endured his wrath if so. No, the duchess had planned to deal with Phoebe on her own. The memory of how cruel her mother sounded as she informed whomever she had met with in the study still had the power to make Phoebe nauseated.
“Take her to the countryside and ensure she is guarded stringently. She is not to be allowed any letters, nor should any be posted for her. There must be no visitors, and under no circumstances must the neighbors know with which family she is connected. I will trust her in your care, and when the child is born, you must take it away immediately, and only then I am to be notified this sorry mess is over with.”
It was very fortunate that Sarah and the young coachman had a tendre for each other. It was her maidservant who had arranged for her beau to take one of the family’s carriages in the dead of night so they could make their escape. The duke and duchess had been at a ball, and she had left letters for them, hoping they could accept her determination to protect the life of her child. She had implied in her letters that she would assume widowhood in France. It was only to Richard she had hinted that she would reside in Scotland without imparting any specifics.
The dread she had felt then settled over her now like a smothering blanket. Her throat clogged, and with a scowl, she pushed aside the feelings. Grasping the heavy sheets, she flung them aside in one swift movement and took her time in rising from the bed. She rested a hand on her rounded stomach. “What am I to do now?”
Phoebe hadn’t even dared think to inform George of the consequences of her recklessness. It had been four months since he accepted his twenty thousand pounds from her father and departed her life. During those months, any possibility of their reconciliation was irrecoverably lost forever. Not that she could bring herself to forgive him for that treachery.
He had taken the twenty thousand pounds and had become engaged to a Miss Lavinia Dawkins, the third daughter of a Baron, only a few weeks after they had parted. Phoebe had heard that the happy couple and the Baron were painting their engagement as a romantic love match, with a wedding to be held in a few weeks. Phoebe had wondered at the possibility that George might h
ave already been courting the girl in secret and that possibly their dalliance had wandered into the more physical realms as well. Her father might then have wanted to make sure they were quickly wed, and the large windfall George had taken from the Duke would sweeten the bitter medicine. Phoebe did not want to believe that George had been seducing Miss Lavinia while also making promises of undying love to her, but she could neither prove nor disprove her miserable suspicions.
Phoebe had to turn to her brother. Richard would fight for her, which would make the already tumultuous relationship with his parents more bitter, even dangerous. The duke was powerful, and he would not hesitate to make his son an enemy. She already knew that he had wielded his power to shut Richard out of investments and had influenced all the notable clubs to deny him membership. There had been no justification for his being blackballed except that Richard had acknowledged his bastard child and accepted responsibility for the child’s upbringing and welfare. How much further would the duke go if Richard was to help and encourage her to bring another illegitimate child into the world? How could she do that to him when it was her reckless heart that had left her ruined?
But how can I not also do everything to protect my child?
She had carried off all her pieces of jewelry, and they should be able to fetch a handsome price. She could indeed travel to France and assume widowhood. But how long would that money serve her and the baby? Although she had heard it was cheaper to live well in France than in England, so it might not be so very dreadful. Once she settled in France, she could write to Richard and ask him for money.
Phoebe swallowed back a rising swell of panic. It felt as if she attempted to climb a mountain in trying to find a remedy that would not damage her family’s reputation and protect the life and well-being of her baby.
I promise I’ll not be rash again, and I’ll protect you at all cost. As if her baby heard her silent vow, her stomach rippled several times. Phoebe gave a watery laugh.
A knock sounded on the door, and she stood, for a moment faltering with indecision. It was late, very late, for the midnight hour struck some time ago.
Woof! Woof!
It was Wolf, and she did not think he’d arrived at her door by his will. Surely the viscount accompanied him. Her feet wouldn’t move. Nervousness nearly overwhelmed her, as she had not expected to see him again tonight. Phoebe tugged a robe from the peg, slipped it on over her nightgown, and hurried to the door to open it. She stepped back, allowing Wolf and his master to enter her bedroom, then gently closed the door. It was all highly improper, but she did not protest the intrusion, for everything about her situation was already so irregular.
Phoebe pressed her forehead to the oak panel for several seconds before turning to face him. It had not been an anomaly; her earlier awareness of the man was still there. A flutter of warm sensations erupted in her stomach, and her heartbeat quickened uncomfortably. The blackness of his hair gleamed under the firelight, and the curls at his forehead and nape seemed damp. He had a straight nose and sharp, arrogant cheekbones that lent an air of aristocratic breeding. He had been outside in the rain, yet his simple white shirt and black trousers appeared dry. Trying not to dwell on the fact that he was not properly dressed, that she was in her nightgown, and that they were in a closed room, she lowered her eyes. It was then she noted he held a tray in his hands, and her stomach chose that moment to rumble its hunger.
He waved to the sofa by the crackling fireplace. They made their way over, and she sat into the cushions, absurdly pleased when Wolf hopped onto the sofa beside her and curled into her side. His master followed every motion with those beautiful eyes of his, yet she could read nothing from his expression. It was very unusual for anyone to be so self-contained, and not for the first time, she felt a pulse of curiosity.
The papers and inkwell he’d used earlier were on the small table between the sofas. He lowered the tray in front of her and took them up. When he had finished writing, he pushed the paper over to her.
I thought you might be awake and would like some company. Your maidservant also mentioned to the kitchens earlier that you tend to wake up in the night with the urge to eat. I brought you a slice of pound cake and some leftover roast meat from dinner. There is also a glass of warm milk.
“I have been unable to sleep,” she said, hating the way her throat ached. His kindness was surprising and very welcomed. “I am also hungry. Thank you.”
