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“But you did not know we would be married,” she said, a bit of confusion twisting through her.
He signed slowly, and she watched his expression and fingers keenly.
“The earl and I have planned my return these last few years as if we would head into battle. The most powerful and influential families of the ton have been studied, secrets, scandals, financial weaknesses and strengths collected. The value of marrying any one of their daughters is incalculable. When you fell into my hands, I daresay we were beyond fortunate.”
She arched a brow
as a spurt of amusement caught her off-guard. “Fell into your hands? How odiously ominous. But I do understand now…I am the doorway needed to reach my family and many other powerful connections in the ton.”
A piercing disquiet filled her, and she tried to push it away. It was the power of her connections why his father had not protested their match. She was still amazed Hugh had married her given he must have possessed other choices. Phoebe realized then a part of her wished there had been something inside of him that had reacted to her as a woman…something in him that wanted her without the connections more than anything else.
He nodded once, his eyes carefully measuring her reaction.
“Do you suppose society is aware of your family’s secret?”
His flinch was subtle, but it was there. “Years ago, they were very much aware, and the scandal of it all but ruined my father. To protect us, he took his children and left England. We have not returned since.”
“And once you do…there are those who will stir those old rumours with the violence of a winter storm.”
“Yes.”
A lesser family would simply stay away from it all, as many did who had fallen to ruin. The entire family would eschew all of society and bury themselves away in the country with little opportunities for any pursuits, whether it be studies, marriage, or the frivolous kind—all would be made impossible.
If any family that had been cut dared to return to town without the approval of those who deemed themselves the arbiters of high society’s circle, they would find themselves shunned socially, politically, and even financially as bank doors and investment clubs would be closed to their queries. Those powerful lords and ladies in the ton could be merciless when they deem a family should stay away.
Memories of how terrible they had been to her brother set her throat to aching. Only that he had been even more ruthless and uncaring of society’s opinion had seen him, his darling wife Evie, and his band of children, whom he had taken into his heart and home, safe. And her family, Hugh and Caroline, would face it shortly. And it seemed her husband might be just as cunning in dealing with the lot.
Phoebe was decidedly unsure of just how she should feel about her assessment of him in that moment. She found him vaguely disturbing and terribly compelling. “Is that why you advertised for a wife? Not wanting to wade through the scandal and idle gossip you would have faced in the marriage mart.”
“The old earl is dying with only a few weeks left to live. Advertising seemed the most expedient way of satisfying his wish before…”
“Dying! I cannot credit it!” The earl, while he avoided her most ardently, did not act like a man who hovered at death’s door. “Are you certain?”
“I am.”
“You do not seem alarmed by the prospect that something so dreadful hovers.”
“I have accepted it, and so has he.”
Her heart ached for him, and that notion that he was so very carefully contained with his emotions occurred to her again. Do you not feel? She was tempted to ask but wisely held her reckless tongue. “Will you be taking Caroline with us when we return to England?”
He glanced away toward the small waterfall for several moments before lifting his hands and signing, “Yes.”
“Are you worried about her reception?”
“She is dreadfully improper and has big dreams in her heart. Those dreams will take her to London for a come out that must be spectacular.”
Phoebe hesitated, torn by conflicting emotions. “She is also not the earl’s daughter,” she said softly, unable to understand how their mother could have been so terribly selfish. “Where…may I ask where your mother is?”
“In Edinburgh. She is quite famous for her charm and beauty, and the papers take great pleasure in recounting her famous exploits.”
“Is she to return home soon?” It had been several weeks since they had married, and no one had mentioned the marchioness. Phoebe had even wondered if their mother had died and had thought it odd no portrait of hers hung in the hallways.
“Unlikely, since she left us some fifteen years ago and has never been back once.”
A shock went through Phoebe’s entire body; then their gazes collided. “She left?” The scandal must have been horrifying. Good heavens. “By her own choice or did the earl…”
His eyes chilled, and discomfort curled through Phoebe.
