Page 58

Adam took one look at her gleeful expression and started to laugh. Perhaps there was something to this remarkable young lady’s suggestion after all.

Chapter 18

“It’s time, Miss Hadford.” Lucy’s voice cut through Phoebe’s dreams, and she stirred.

Surely she had set her head upon her pillow only five minutes before. It could not possibly be morning already.

“Half an hour more, Lucy,” she mumbled. “Give me half an hour more.”

“Very good, miss.”

The door closed behind her maid, and what seemed to be one minute later, it reopened.

“It’s been half an hour, miss.”

This time, Lucy opened the curtains. Phoebe groaned, instinctively raising her arm over her eyes. The simple movement triggered such burning pain, she was instantly thrust into full consciousness. Memory came flooding back. Picking apples from the trees and off the ground, laughing with Emily over Weston’s antics, ignoring Miss Glover’s unfriendliness, and coaxing a smile or two out of Lord Dunsbourne.

The baron had been a good sport over her tipping of the apple barrow. Notwithstanding having won the right to tease him, she had been reluctant to be overly forward in front of the others, but when she’d been close enough to share a quiet word, she had ribbed him about being far less efficient at creating apple tumps than Henry and had insinuated that Weston could out-pick him in a heartbeat. His soft chuckles had made her cheekiness worth the risk. Lord Dunsbourne took teasing well.

Tossing back her covers, she sat up in bed and groaned. It appeared that her arm was not the only casualty of her day of manual labor. She came to her feet and hobbled across the room. Every muscle in her body screamed in protest.

“I fear I will need extra help getting dressed this morning, Lucy.”

Her maid offered a sympathetic smile. “Don’t you worry none, miss. I’ll have you ready in no time.”

Phoebe glanced at the clock on the mantel and gasped. “Did I truly sleep that late?”

“I reckon you were fully worn out last night, miss.”

There could be no doubt about that. Phoebe had ridden home at the end of a long day in the orchard and had slipped into the house through the servants’ entrance. With Lucy’s help, she had bathed and changed in time for dinner with her mother. As soon as the meal was over, however, she had excused herself to go to her room—and had promptly gone to bed.

She had planned to be on her way to Dunsbourne Manor by this hour. Lord Dunsbourne was expecting her in the cart shed first thing.

“Hurry, Lucy. Do not worry about my hair. Simply pull it up out of my face.”

Lucy did as she asked, quickly brushing through Phoebe’s long blonde hair and drawing it up with a few well-placed pins. Tightening Phoebe’s stays in record time, she gathered up the gown she’d loaned her and held it out. Phoebe gritted her teeth against the discomfort of moving her limbs and raised her arms. Lucy slid the gown over Phoebe’s head and reached for her shoes.

“The stairs might be difficult at first, miss,” Lucy said. “But it seems like the more you move, the less discomfort you’ll feel.”

“I believe our groom told me something similar when I first learned to ride.” Phoebe grimaced. “I think more muscles may be involved this time.”

“Shall I fetch you some breakfast, miss?”

Phoebe glanced at the clock again. She could not be any later than she already was.

“Thank you, but no. I must be on my way.” She put on her bonnet, tied the ribbons beneath her chin, and then reached for her cloak. Covering Lucy’s gown as best she could, she exited her chambers and started for the stairs. She moved stiffly, bracing herself for the descent.

“Phoebe!”

She froze.

“A word, if you please.”

Slowly, Phoebe turned to see her mother approaching down the passageway. Gripping the front of her cloak closed, Phoebe forced a smile. “Good morning, Mother.”

Her mother eyed her suspiciously. “Why are you wearing your cloak and bonnet?”

“I am going to visit Miss Norton.”