Page 21 of Lord Gabriel’s Undoing

At Phoebe’s suggestion, Lord Gabriel’s carriage dropped her off on the corner of Hays Mews, next to the Coach and Horses public house, at a little before seven in the morning. The Mews, which was where all the stabling for the road was, ran at right angles with Hill Street, then behind it all the way down to Union Street and was a hive of early morning activity, making it an ideal place in which to go unnoticed. The sun was probably up, but as an unpleasant miasma of cloud and bitter coal smoke hung over the city even in this more salubrious area, it was hard to tell. The usual unpleasant London mix that made Phoebe long for the fresh air and open spaces of Coakham Hall.

Plenty of people were already about: grooms seeing to the never-ending care of their animals, and tradesmen such as butchers, bakers, and greengrocers making their deliveries via the back entrances of houses. Out on Hill Street doorsteps were probably already scrubbed clean by maids, and at the end of Union Street two street sweepers were engaged in cleaning any nighttime detritus that might have accumulated. One or two gentlemen marched past on their way to their places of business, taking no notice of a young lady out and about so early in the morning.

Phoebe was relieved not to attract attention as she hastened along Hill Street, trying to look as though being out before seven was a normal part of her day. Knowing the front door of number 27 to have been left unbolted, she didn’t bother to knock, but let herself in as quietly as she could and closed the door behind her.

If she’d imagined she could do this unnoticed and return to her room to pretend she’d never been out at all, she was much mistaken.

“Lady Phoebe!” Her name was pronounced in tones that were a mix of horror and surprise, as well they might be. She’d had the nerve to go out quite unchaperoned by even her maid. Anyone was bound to be disapproving of that. If not outright horrified.

Phoebe’s head swung around, praying this was not Bowles the butler who’d caught her out, as he would be bound to inform Aunt Fanny of her digression.

It was not. James, the under footman, was standing at the foot of the stairs, his astounded expression perfectly matching his voice.

He was quite a young man, probably no older than Lord Gabriel, and was tall and dark and not unattractive. Much as most footmen were. No respectable family wanted to hire an ugly, short one. She’d always thought that most unfair, but that was for another time. Right now she needed to persuade him to say nothing about her early morning rambling. Heaven forbid anyone should discover it had actually been nocturnal and in the company of a gentleman who was in reality a burglar.

So she smiled at him as he approached. Her best winning smile. And she began to remove her pelisse. This action necessitated James having to leap forward and catch the vase she’d caught with her sleeve and set it safely back on its stand by the front door.

“Ooops,” Phoebe said, and giggled, for once glad of her clumsiness. “Please don’t tell anyone I nearly broke that vase. I think it’s worth a lot of money.” She had no idea if that was true, but James would likely believe her. In fact, as it was still within striking range of her clumsiness, it was probably worth next to nothing. Aunt Fanny had put most of her valuable belongings in storage since she’d taken Phoebe under her wing.

Having restored the vase to its position, James relieved her of her pelisse and put it over his arm. “If I may make so bold, milady, as to ask what you are doing coming in from outside at this time of the morning?” He must know she wasn’t supposed to be doing such a thing or he wouldn’t dare question her behavior. Probably Aunt Fanny had all the servants spying on her.

Phoebe wrinkled her nose and favored him with another smile. “I’m afraid I’m quite an insomniac and just couldn’t sleep after the excitement of my first ball.” What a lie. It had not been exciting at all. Quite the opposite after her dance with Gabriel was over. How could any of the gentlemen have compared with him?

He would keep intruding into her thoughts with such persistence. With renewed resolution, she pushed him out of her head. “When early morning came, I decided what I needed was a breath of fresh air. I know I shouldn’t have gone out on my own, but it would have been so unfair to have awoken Atkins to accompany me after her late night. I was thinking of her comfort and rest. She’s such a faithful maid.” A good idea to make herself sound concerned for a servant, which, of course, she was. Poor Atkins would have been most upset to have been awoken in the middle of the night and asked to accompany Phoebe and Gabriel to Denmark Street. She would have hidden it, but Phoebe would have known. And on top of that she would have seen it as her duty to inform Aunt Fanny of the night’s adventure.

James, who was as she’d hoped not immune to feminine charms, bridled a little. “If you’d asked, milady, I could have accompanied you. Or Thomas.” He was the senior footman, who Phoebe knew for a fact would have refused to allow her to go out walking so early, even accompanied. As if he were her father. Probably Aunt Fanny had given them all instructions not to let her out of the house alone in case she got herself run over by someone’s carriage. Or fell in the Thames. Or the Serpentine. There were countless things a young lady as clumsy as she was thought to be could do in London. Worse than when she’d lived at Coakham. No doubt Aunt Fanny was well aware of this.

“Well, I’m home safely now, aren’t I?” she said brightly. How much easier it was to talk to someone when just the two of you were present. Not like at that awful ball with all those people and the noise they were making. She refused to consider that memory, mainly because it would bring Gabriel leaping back into her head.

She smiled confidingly. At least, confidence in him was what she wished to convey. “And you won’t worry my aunt by telling her I was out, will you? If I promise never to do it again.”

A blush rose up James’s face at her wheedling tone. “I don’t know…” he began.

She set her small hand on his arm and gazed up at him. “Please?”

That did it. He nodded in confusion. A flush of triumph arose in Phoebe’s heart. She too could persuade men to do what she wanted. Just like Mattie.

She gave him another smile, retrieved her pelisse and ran lightly up the stairs, leaving him to recover his equilibrium alone.

Her luck was in. She encountered no one else on the upper floors and made it to her bedroom undiscovered. It was the work of only a few minutes to remove her outer clothes and stays and wriggle back into her nightgown. Abandoning everything on the floor, as was her habit, she jumped into her cold bed and snuggled down. Perhaps she could even get an hour or two of sleep if she was lucky.

The next thing she knew, Atkins was flinging the curtains open on yet another dull gray day. “Good morning, milady. I hope you slept well. I’ve brought your breakfast as requested.”

Phoebe rubbed her eyes. She might have been better trying to stay awake. Barely two hours of sleep was worse than none at all. But she couldn’t allow Atkins to know this. She sat up in bed in time to see Atkins notice the clothes she’d left scattered all over the floor. Far too late, the thought dawned on her that it would have been a good idea to put them back where they’d come from.

Atkins shook her head in confusion. “Good heavens, milady. I thought I’d put all of them things away last night. Wherever did all this come from?” She carefully stepped over the offending articles and settled Phoebe’s breakfast tray in her lap. Toast and tea.

Phoebe attempted to ignore the way her maid was eyeing her questioningly.

“Oh, I woke up in the night and decided to choose what I would wear today,” she tried, busying herself pouring her tea. It slopped over the edge of the cup into the saucer and when she tried tipping it back, she managed to spill it onto the tray instead. Luckily the tray had legs, but if she moved she risked toppling the lot. She kept as still as possible.

Atkins picked up Phoebe’s stays. “You had to decide which stays to wear?” Her tone was disbelieving.

“Why yes,” Phoebe said, as if this were the most normal thing in the world to do in the middle of the night. “I wanted to see which would be most comfortable.”

“And stockings?” Atkins added, picking them up. It was obvious from their distorted shape that Phoebe had been wearing them.

“I had to try them on,” Phoebe said, thinking quickly. “To see if they felt…comfortable…as well.” Probably not quickly enough.