Page 23 of Letters for Phoebe

“Only as an excuse to invite you, Miss Kimball.”

Phoebe turned quickly to look at him, to measure the truth in his words, at the same moment someone bumped him from behind. Griffin moved forward, and their noses collided. Phoebe yelped and immediately put a hand to her stinging nose, while Griffin straightened and barked a protest at whoever had come up behind him.

Then he had her arm and pulled her along to the steps, but rather than go up as his parents had, he took her to the side where a lamp glowed in a wall sconce. He turned her toward the lamp, then his gloved fingers skimmed against her jaw, coaxing her to tip her face up toward him and the light.

He was studying her nose.

“Are you hurt, Miss Kimball?”

He had to stand close to do so, his stare rather intense with his eyebrows drawn down sharply and his lips pressed tightly together.

“It only stings a little.” The unpleasant sensation had nearly entirely gone.

Never had Phoebe seen Griffin without a smile upon his face. He perpetually showed good humor, even in surprise. But all it took was one moment of concern for a more solemn expression to appear.

As handsome as Griffin was when he smiled—and as preferable as she found his wide grin to his frown—a more serious mien looked just as well upon him.

He stared down at her, not moving away, and Phoebe thought he meant to come closer—and she could not remember why that would be a bad thing.

Until someone laughed, loudly, breaking whatever trance Phoebe and Griffin had fallen under. He blinked as rapidly as she when he stepped back, looking over his shoulder. No one appeared to see them, to give any heed to them at all. Everyone was moving into the theater’s entrances, backs to the little corner Griffin had found to tend to her.

Phoebe cleared her throat, then turned away from him. “We had better find your box. Your parents will wonder what became of us.” At least they were in a public enough place that she need not worry about her reputation.

“You are right, of course. Miss Kimball.” He offered his arm again, and she took it, avoiding looking up into his eyes.

For one wild moment, she had thought he might kiss her. While that ought to have disturbed, Phoebe found herself wondering instead if she would have liked it. The feathers returned to tickle her insides, and her cheeks warmed enough that she wished for her fan to cool them.

Griffin’s parents were already seated in two chairs, with two more in front of them closer to the rail. Phoebe took her seat slowly, listening as Griffin made their excuses.

“We had a small mishap, but I see we have not missed so much as the pantomime.”

“Have you heard anything about this play, Miss Kimball?” Mrs. Fenwick asked, her tone cheerful. “I was fortunate enough to see it performed more than a decade ago. I am most interested to see if it is as amusing as I remember.”

“The story is about several couples making a hash of courtship.” Mr. Fenwick took his wife’s hand as he spoke. “Of course we will enjoy it. For it all ends happily enough.”

Griffin at last sat down next to Phoebe, his smile returned to his lips. They were in a top box, to the right of the stage, and near the center of the room. Phoebe removed her small telescope from her reticule, along with her fan, and put the items upon the empty chair on her other side.

The lights flickered, and the people in the aisles of seats below quieted. Everything went quite dark. Griffin leaned close enough for his shoulder to brush hers. “Let me know if there is anything you require this evening, Miss Kimball. Anything at all.”

Phoebe did not have time to reply before the orchestra began to play. As the man dressed as a fool put on his brief pantomime act, Phoebe’s thoughts tumbled about the way he tumbled across the stage. She had not thought, when she first laid eyes upon Griffin Fenwick in Hyde Park, that he could be more than a fool himself. Performing foolish pranks and jests in front of Society, thumbing his nose at propriety.

Yet she could not think of any man of her acquaintance, save her relatives, who had treated her with such kind attentiveness. While his humor was not what she was used to, there was nothing inappropriate about it. Not really. He had never behaved as anything less than a gentleman when near her.

For some reason, he spoke often enough about her to make his parents curious. To ask her to an evening at the theater. It was enough to make her consider, to entertain the thoughts, that Griffin Fenwick considered courting her.

The audience’s laughter filled the theater, and Phoebe forced a laugh as well. She laughed at herself. Griffin had proclaimed himself uninterested in marriage. She had heard it with her own ears. Her anonymous friend was wrong to put Griffin’s name in his list. The only reason he showed her any consideration at all was due to his friendship with Caroline. Perhaps he still thought he must make up for his verbal blunder.

Yet during the third act of the play, after the intermission wherein she and Mrs. Fenwick laughed at the plights of the confused lovers, Griffin sat closer than before. He leaned down often to make observations about the characters that made her giggle most unbecomingly. He did not seem to mind.

And at the very end of the play, for a very brief moment, his hand covered hers when the hero at last confessed himself in love with the heroine.

Chapter 9

A Friend Indeed

To P.K.,

I did see you at the theater. You appeared most lovely in your gown, reminding me of cherry blossoms in the spring, or roses in the summer. Your companions were fortunate to have you in their box. When I took my eyes from the stage, it was always to seek you out. You seemed to have enjoyed the evening’s entertainment, and I could not help but laugh when you laughed.