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Waking up properly in a tiny French town with the aroma of baking croissants wafting into her nostrils, and the cozy enveloping warmth of Hugh’s body warming hers as if they were made to be a set, she wriggled closer, though it were barely possible, and opened heavy eyelids.
They’d spoken in convoluted sentences, too exhausted to begin from the beginning and end at the end. Now Phoebe asked another of the disjoined questions that seemed to randomly enter her mind.
“How did you see that I was released into your care?” She touched her forehead, then winced.
Hugh had tended to her medical needs with gentle care but her injuries had been nothing compared with his. Hugh’s eyes were black and his face cut and scratched. Yet he treated her as if she were the only one to have suffered injury—and the most precious creature in all the world.
Hugh traced the outline of her lips and smiled.“Mrs Plumb’s Salon of Sin, where you were deceived and kidnapped, yielded two unexpected allies—including Lord Coulson, in an indirect manner. I was prepared to do whatever it took to save you.”
“Lord Coulson? But you both believed me guilty.” She said it without rancour. “You thought I was guilty because I didn’t deny the fact my hand held the weapon,” she went on. “That’s what the judge determined, and that’s why you were so disappointed when we last met. I truly thought I’d never see you again.” She frowned at the ceiling, trying to keep the tears at bay, then returned her gaze to Hugh. “You wanted so badly to believe I was nothing like I’d been painted but everything you heard in court bore up the fact that I was a murderess.” She gulped. “And then I proved it to you in front of your very eyes.”
“Dear God, Phoebe, you were magnificent!” Hugh rose up onto one elbow and smiled down at her. “You did what I was patently failing to do. You struck Wentworth the mortal blow and in so doing you saved my life.”
“You were about to lose yours while saving mine,” Phoebe pointed out, happy that he was so ready to grasp the distinction between murder and self preservation. She drew in a deep breath. “But come, let’s watch the dawn rise over the water. It’s the first day of a new beginning for me.”
“For us,” Hugh corrected her, wrapping the blankets around them both as they stood in the window embrasure.
After some minutes of silence, Hugh admitted softly, “It’s true I was dismayed to discover you’d deceived me for the three weeks we’d been together.” His laugh was sheepish. “And more than dismayed to discover you were the woman whom the gossips painted as a callous husband killer. I will not lie and say the shock of seeing you in the stand in the courtroom meant my head refused to obey what I knew to be true in my heart: that you are the truest, kindest, most blameless woman I know.”
He put his arm about her shoulders and pulled her to him, tucking away a strand of hair behind her ear.
Phoebe shuddered at the gentleness. To have such truth and transparency in a relationship was as liberating as it was exciting. He knew the worst of her.
“But the judge declared me guilty and sentenced me to death. How did you persuade him to abet my escape, Hugh?” She shuddered, and Hugh kissed her nose.
Putting his forehead to hers, he whispered, “When I went to the salon where you sought Wentworth’s wife, I learned from someone there where I might find Lord Coulson.” He chuckled. “He was at Madame Plumb’s with a pretty male friend.”
Phoebe drew in her breath sharply, and Hugh curled his arm around the back of her neck to stroke her cheek. “You’re cold. We should go back to bed and have this discussion while doing something pleasurable.”
“Before you return?” Phoebe turned her head away. She shouldn’t inject sadness into proceedings, inevitable as a parting was.
“Oh, I’m not going anywhere, my precious.”
Confused, Phoebe clung to him. “You know I can never return to England!” She searched his face. “And you cannot sacrifice your future for me. I must forever be on the run with a death sentence hanging above my head. You have assets and a fine future ahead of you in the country from which I must be forever exiled.”
His reply was soft and measured. “I shall go wherever you go, Phoebe, my love. The time we spent apart made me realize how dangerous a companion I am when suffering your absence. Just ask Ada.”
“But Hugh, you cannot be associated with me. It will be known that you kidnapped me from justice.”
“That wasn’t justice, and Coulson acknowledged it, too.” Hugh grinned. “Lord Coulson had no choice but to give you the sentence he did, but when by pure chance I stumbled upon the means to expose him to the world for his own hang-worthy crime, he was willing to negotiate.” He changed the subject, quickly. “You’re a widow, aren’t you?”
Phoebe was taken aback by his matter-of-fact tone, then outraged when he added, “I mean, you haven’t some other secret husband tucked away? You didn’t wed during the week before your trial?”
He laughed at her rosy-faced indignation, then swooped to kiss her lips before explaining, “I merely ask so that I might be sure you’re in a position to accept me if I made you an offer of marriage.” He became suddenly solemn. “I realize you’d be marrying beneath you, which of course is what has made me reluctant to do the honorable thing these past weeks we’ve been together.” He grinned at his poor joke and she swotted his shoulder, her laugh a mixture of joy and disbelief.
“Now, before you say anything, first listen to my complete proposition.”
Nervously, she waited. Let him speak first before she revealed the news she wasn’t sure was a blessing or a bane.
“Are you attending, my sweet?”
She nodded and he clasped both her hands. A tentative morning sun was gently bathing the room in light, like the light that was filtering through her heart.
Hugh squeezed her hands. “With Wentworth dead, I believe an appeal would go in your favour. The servants were terrified of him but now they can speak the truth.”
“The servants had no respect for me.” Phoebe hung her head.
“Remember, Phoebe, that they could declare allegiance to only one person if their positions were to remain safe—and that person wasn’t you.” Hugh spoke reasonably and Phoebe felt a spark of hope. Some of the servants, she believed, had felt sorry for her. They knew Ulrick was an unkind husband and Wentworth a scheming bully.
