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Smoothing down the skirts of her dress, which Hugh had helped her into just a moment before, Phoebe watched Hugh ride into the distance. She was deeply unsettled. This was not supposed to happen. Not this fusing of the heart, as if he’d invaded her very being. He was a man, and men had only used her in the past to further their ends, while she’d been forced to compromise her heart and body to retain a tenuous security.
What’s more, he’d belittled her this morning. Was it the start of something more insidious? Experience with men had taught her that any initial hope or pleasure would soon be snuffed out. That would inevitably happen with Mr Redding. They’d go to London, and soon he’d be squiring his sister to balls and assemblies where he’d meet the kind of woman he’d marry.
She didn’t doubt that he believed her exquisite. Men were like that. They said what they needed to say to get what they wanted. As soon as Mr Redding felt the pressure to take a wife, Phoebe would be discarded.
She closed her eyes and clenched her hands into fists as she strove for the strength she’d one day need to summon.
Before that time, though, she’d need to shore up her position so that when Mr Redding left, she’d not be entirely destitute.
Unfortunately, she was doing what she knew she should not. Her heart was not just warming to him, but regularly throughout the day her mind would thrill at the memory of the wild and wanton sensations he evoked in her.
She knew it was time to leave this place, and hoped she’d feel safer living in some small cottage in London where no one would know her.
She’d thought long and hard about Miss Redding’s revelation regarding Wentworth’s secret marriage, and had decided it was not something she intended to bring up with Mr Redding. They’d not spoken of Wentworth in days. In fact, Phoebe intended never speaking of him again. Ada Redding’s words had struck a chord. It would be better never to mention Wentworth’s name in the hope he would eventually fade from memory. Phoebe’s ideas of bringing him to justice could never be realized without sacrificing herself, now that it had been made so clear there was not a single person who would vouch for her if she were caught and faced trial.
Raising her eyes to the blue she glimpsed beneath the canopy, she ran her hand down her belly and felt a shiver of apprehension.
She could never be Lady Cavanaugh and continue to enjoy her freedom. She could never be a lady again.
But she could be happy. At least for now, and that was better than nothing.
If life had taught her anything, it was that its few moments of happiness were fleeting.
She started to walk back to the house, deep in thought, her body still humming with the pleasurable sensations her new lover had unleashed in her while her mind ran over the probabilities.
She would have to live as a lower-class woman with no reputation, when she was used to privilege. When Mr Redding tired of her or took a wife, she’d be discarded.
That meant she had to make the most of what generosity he was prepared to extend her. She needed to ensure a measure of future security before she could give sway to her heart, which was proving as foolishly susceptible as it had when Wentworth had wooed her in such a calculating fashion.
She was barely into the house when Ada’s loud whisper in the gloomy corridor took her by surprise.
“Phoebe, come here! Quickly, before my brother sees us!”
Startled, Phoebe was pulled into the storeroom, Miss Redding closing the door behind them.
“I’ve had an idea,” she said, then, in more disappointed tones when Phoebe didn’t reply, “Our conversation this morning has given me a brainstorm. Listen to me, Phoebe. You want to see Mr Wentworth brought low on account of your mistress, just as I want the same thing. I’m determined to do it, but I can’t do it alone.”
Phoebe could see where this was going and shook her head. “Despite what I said this morning, I’ve changed my mind. I can’t help you with regard to Wentworth, Miss Redding,” she said firmly. “Your brother is right. You must forget about Mr Wentworth. I’m very sorry about what he did to you—”
“But, for the sake of my child—”
“Your child would have no future branded as a bastard.”
Miss Redding gasped, but Phoebe went on quickly. “Your brother was doing the only thing he could by the two of you: ensuring you both had a future. You must not think of Mr Wentworth or your child again. You are not yet twenty, and you have your life ahead of you. It’s full of possibilities as long as you can put the past behind you.”
Phoebe’s hand strayed to her belly, and fear gripped her by the throat. Please, dear Lord, don’t let me be with child, she thought. I don’t think I could bear to lose a babe like poor Ada, and I do not have the wherewithal to see justice done by Wentworth.
In the ribbon of light that sliced across the small utility room, Phoebe saw the pain in her eyes yet Miss Redding was not going to let it go.
“You must help me find out who the woman is to whom Mr Wentworth is legally married. Don’t you see, if it were made public, he’d be forced to live with the common creature and at least that would be some consolation. Please, find out who she is and entice her to come forward. If he has treated her as badly as he has treated me and your mistress, then she’ll be only too pleased to inform the world of the kind of man he is. It’s not full justice he’d be served, but at least it’s something.”
“A fine plan, Miss Redding, but how do you suppose I can learn the whereabouts of his wife? I’m—”
“An ignorant servant, but Phoebe, my brother was speaking about you earlier, and he is full of admiration for your ability to mimic your betters. Why, he declared you could fool a duke! Therefore, if you can as easily deport yourself with the aristocracy as you can with the serving classes, then you can be a spy. Search out Wentworth’s contacts. I can help you! I know names, Phoebe, but I can’t do it. I’ve my reputation to think of, and I cannot go places alone as you can. I’d be recognized in some quarters—certainly as an unmarried woman in need of a chaperone.”
“And so would I!” Phoebe shook her head. She was not entertaining any of it. Her mind was made up. There would be no fair trial for her if she fell into Wentworth’s clutches, and word from Mrs Withins was that he’d offered a handsome reward for anyone whose information led to Lady Cavanaugh’s arrest.
Thank the good Lord Mr Redding would be taking her to London before the end of the week.
