“She is your mystery artist then?” Percival’s eyes widened.
“Yes.”
Percival was on his feet now, running his hands through his hair as he paced. “Then commission some art, do not marry the woman.”
Theodore watched his friend pacing, slipping a mat beneath his glass to prevent it damaging the wood. “That is not enough. Phoebe needs more than drawings. She needs someone who is here with her, someone who can bring her out into the world.”
“And you think this Lady Harriet can do that?” Percival gripped the back of a chair, shifting between one foot and another, his agitation palpable.
“Phoebe smiled at her, Wright. She smiled at her, and her smile grew stronger when Lady Harriet smiled back.” He stood, feeling his shoulders relax as he moved to the window, looking out into the gardens where he knew he would find his niece. “I did not know she could smile like that.”
She looked so like Rose.His heart twisted but he pushed it away. “In a matter of seconds, Lady Harriet did what a host of others have failed at for years.”
“But why marriage – why not hire her as a governess? Most governesses are the daughters of minor nobility after all. That was your plan, was it not?” Percival had a stubborn set to his jaw. A familiar, stubborn set. Theodore sighed.
“It was when I did not know the station of the artist. She might have been a merchant’s daughter for all I knew, or even a servant. Even a baron’s daughter would not have been an appropriate match, but the daughter of an earl? That is a different proposition entirely.” Theodore watched as Mrs. Morton gestured to Phoebe and then to a plant, but his niece seemed disinterested.
“Even if it was not beneath her station and she accepted such a position, eventually someone will ask for her hand and that man will expect her to be at his side. She will leave.” Theodore’s heart twisted and he shook his head. “In truth, I am surprised someone like her is yet unwed.”
“Perhaps there is a reason for that.” Percival gave him a meaningful look.
A prickle of irritation ran through Theodore, and he frowned. “I do not care for your implication, Wright. You were not here, you did not see what I saw.”
“Indeed? What did you see, oh great observer?”
“She is well mannered and polite. Clearly intelligent, though perhaps a little impulsive.” Theodore shrugged. “A skilled artist – Phoebe is drawn to it like nothing else.”
Theodore remembered the way she had stood, putting herself between him and Phoebe as though to protect the child. A part of him had been offended, but the greater part had been impressed. “She was prepared to defend Phoebe, to stand between her and any potential harm even though she had known her only moments. How many women would do that?”
“You sound like you rather admire her,” Percival said.
“I do,” Theodore admitted. “Lady Harriet knew what to do with Phoebe as if it were the simplest, most obvious thing in the world. She is no fool, though perhaps more impulsive than is ideal. She will offer Phoebe… something that she needs.”She can do what I cannot.
There was a moment of silence and when Theodore looked at Percival, he saw a curiously thoughtful expression on his friend’s face. “For someone who sees this only as a means to an end, Irondale, you seem to have rather a lot to say about the woman.”
Theodore stiffened. “Just because I appreciate her, does not mean I wish for this to be anything other than it is. Our match is about securing a future for my niece – she needs a motherly figure and I think Lady Harriet will fill the role well. It is as simple as that.”
“If you say so.” Percival shrugged and stood up, glancing towards the door. “But I cannot help but wonder if Phoebe is not the only reason for your haste.”
“If this is a poorly veiled attempt to get me to change my mind, it will not work.” Theodore folded his arms across his chest.
“I would not dream of such a thing, Irondale.” Percival squeezed his shoulder as he moved past Theodore to don his coat. “You know best after all. I just want to make sure you are thinking with your head.”
“I am not a man controlled by such base instincts.” Theodore’s voice was so cold it would have frozen water.
“I know.” Percival hesitated at the door. “I was speaking of the heart.”
He left without another word, leaving Theodore to mull on what his friend had said. “Ridiculous.”
Unconsciously, his fingers stroked the pocket where Lady Harriet’s drawing lay folded neatly.Percival is letting his imagination run away with him.
* * *
“That is a very pretty flower, Lady Phoebe.” The high, bright voice of Lucy Morton, Mrs. Morton’s daughter and Phoebe’s maid, floated towards Theodore as he walked through the hall.
He had spent the afternoon pondering his exchange with Percival. It had unnerved him more than he would like to admit. After all, he would not usually rush into something like this.
Perhaps waiting would be best.And what if someone else asks for her hand?He pictured some faceless man walking arm in arm with Lady Harriet and clenched his hands into fists.No.
