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“Some fabric was left over from a polonaise Lady Colchester bought from Paris and the feathers….”
Phoebe stared from the beautiful gown that clothed her to the little woman in front of her. Truly, this was a clever artiste. And Hugh was a clever man for finding her.
He looked smug as now he shifted his attention from Phoebe to the dressmaker who’d just packed up her pins and started to leave, having received payment and praise obviously sufficient to her needs. Offering Phoebe his arm, he led her toward the window.
“Miss Lavendar has traveled some distance today, but I felt it was
justified to employ the talents of someone I know could be trusted.”
Phoebe looked from where her hand lay on his sleeve, then up to his face, which caught the sunlight that slanted through the diamond panes and felt a surge of something that was not gratitude snake through her heart before traveling disconcertingly to her loins. She wanted to rub her hands over the short stubble of his chin.
Instead, she inclined her head. “You obviously hold great store by your sister’s opinion,” she remarked and then saw the shadow that crossed his face.
“My sister is a remarkable young lady.” She could tell it was not lip service either. When he spoke of her, he was altered. When he was flirting with Phoebe, the maidservant, he was as louche as any man. The contradiction riled her, but she was also impressed by his loyalty. How nice if any man had ever championed her.
“I think she must be a lucky young woman to have a brother like you.”
“Alas, I failed her as a brother when I did not observe the nature of the man to whom she was losing her heart.” A flare of anger darkened his gaze.
Wentworth, of course.
Phoebe looked at him inquiringly. Perhaps now, in this moment of intimacy, he would make a confidante of her. Maybe, dressed as she was, he’d forget she was supposedly a lady’s maid, so far beneath him.
It appeared he did. “About eighteen months ago, Wentworth was a visitor to our district. Ada met him at the Assembly Rooms.”
Phoebe felt grateful for his trust. “And he swept your sister off her feet, like he did my mistress? Mr Wentworth can be a very charming man when he wants to be.”
“Clearly, he was charmed. Ada was young and unused to the attentions of gentlemen, and she was offended when I tried to counsel her on the need for caution.”
“Oh dear, she was rebellious?”
Mr Redding rolled his eyes. “Back then she was although it was a long time before I realised just how far she had strayed, and indeed that Mr Wentworth was in fact the devil I now know him.” He sighed. “How I would wish to see a return to her wilfulness from those days though, for all the fire and life has gone out of my sister now.”
“Poor Miss Redding. But surely a young woman with spirit would want revenge against a blackguard like Mr Wentworth?”
“And how would a gently reared young woman exact revenge?”
Phoebe tossed her head. “My point exactly. I hoped you’d see the impossibility we women face every day of enjoying the justice so often denied us.” She touched his arm. “We need to employ clever men as our conduits. Your sister and I are lucky to have you, Mr Redding.”
She was astonished by the stab of feeling his amused and interested gaze unleashed within her. Her nipples hardened, and again she was aware of the heat in her lower belly that surely wasn’t just gratitude for the dress he’d paid for. Tempering her smile, she looked away. It was a relief she was still capable of warm feelings for a man, but she mustn’t allow herself to grow too fond of him. She was poised for escape at the first opportunity. She knew it was too dangerous to return to her aunt in Norfolk for that’s exactly where Wentworth would look soon. But soon she’d need to leave here and go far away.
“Well, together we shall prevail, Phoebe.” They’d reached the window embrasure where he put his finger beneath her chin and tipped her head. “I was thinking long and hard about what you said the other day.” At her inquiring look, he added, “That the way to bring Wentworth down would be to discover what he most wanted.”
“I already told you what he most wants. The estate he’s inherited through murder.”
“And you plan to return to Blinley Manor to spy on him, is that right?”
“I can’t possibly go into company where he might recognize me.”
Mr Redding frowned. “But the new dress. I thought that was your very intention. I thought you planned to pretend to be a lady—”
“A lady, yes, but not …” she trailed off, miserable and fearful.
“You are very loyal to your mistress, aren’t you, Phoebe?” His tone softened. “Yet, despite your boldness, you’re doubting your courage and ability not to make a misstep, aren’t you?” He drew her unexpectedly against him, and his hands contoured her curves, skimming up and over the fine muslin before cupping her face. “Don’t worry, Phoebe. I shall be your tutor.”
“My tutor?” She pulled away, not liking the change in him. “I hope you mean in your endeavors to turn me into a proper lady. I am not as easy as you might suppose, Mr Redding,” she ground out, fighting the urge to cry. Just when she’d begun to like and trust him, he’d reverted to type.
He put his hands on her shoulders. “I’m curious. You pretend you’re an innocent, but you clearly have experience of men. You speak and behave like a lady. Who are you really, Phoebe?”
