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“Indeed,” Phoebe agreed as she curtsied again. “But I, for one, would embrace it with my entire being.”
“I will do whatever is necessary to protect you,” he said as Phoebe’s escort into dinner made his way toward them. He crushed the fragments of the bulldog under his boot heel.
“No.” Her smile never flagged, and she took Alfred’s arm as he led her to meet her dinner companion halfway. Her eyes flashed up at Alfred. “Do not throw over your search. Our people rely on you. You must put them first.” She squeezed his hand as she left him for her dinner partner, and he vowed he would see her safe and sound…
* * *
He had not. Arriving at his destination, he adjusted his sash and entered the parlor, which was bereft of his mate. He went through to the bedchamber. Not there. His heart began to race; he fought his uncharacteristic panic and paused to breathe and scent, and there she was, not in her dressing room as he assumed, but sitting at the desk in a smallish study, reading. She started when she saw him in the doorway.
“Your Grace. How stealthy you are.” She composed her face into cool, calm lines. She was not dressed for dinner but was wearing another of Lady Coleman’s unconventional creations. This one looked like a modification of his dressing gown: richly embroidered and fashioned from satin, it buttoned casually up the front as though the lady could, of all things, dress herself. Or as though a gentleman could divest the lady of the garment in a trice, without the bother of laces and stays. He found himself distracted by the vee that plunged between her breasts, which revealed just enough cleavage to send his senses mad.
“My apologies. I received your note.”
“As I see.” She closed the book with a letter. Was it the one from that useless cousin of hers?
“What do you read?”
“Jem—Lady Coleman brought me some of her horrid novels. I find them quite enthralling, if ridiculous. This isThe Mysteries of Woldolpho. I am not certain yet, but there is something passing strange about the behavior of the Count Woldolpho.”
That cheeky goose—he’d have a word with her ladyship soon enough. “You are in good looks,” he said. “Your gown is rather casual for tonight’s meal.”
“Anything would appear casual against your plumage.” She regarded his regalia from head to toe. “I have not decided whether I will come down.” She rose, clutching the book to her bosom. As she swept across in front of the desk and her skirts billowed around her ankles, he saw she wore some odd sort of slipper that left her toes bare.
“If there is any way I can influence your decision…” He allowed his desire for her to fill his aura, to show in his eyes; she did not rise to the bait.
“Your Grace.” She took a breath and lifted her chin. “I would like to be apprised of the situation concerning my uncle and the fraudulent will.”
Blast. He should have known, of course. “I have nothing to report on that matter at this time.”
“I find that impossible to believe.”
“Believe we are doing all in our power to address the situation.”
“I am asking what that situation is. Mr. Bates did not appear to be secure in his facts. Is there or is there not a will that is the true testament to the wishes of my father?”
“All is yet to be revealed.”
She regarded him for a long, silent moment, and for the first time since he was a very, very young pup, he squirmed under the gaze of another.
“I do not find these answers satisfactory.” She set the book down as though to stop herself from throwing it at his head.
“There is much we do not know—”
“There is far more I do not know. I do not know how Mr. Bates had the inkling to begin his quest. Unless you or he read my post?”
“I ordered him to investigate the address. We did not read your post.”
She nodded, all condescension. “A mark in your favor.”
“I am relieved.” He could not help the bite of sarcasm.
“As you should be, Your Grace. Unless you desire a wife who will bow down to your every dictate, meek and mild.” Felicity lofted her chin, as she was wont to do. “I fear I may have given you the impression I will be such a wife. I will not. You may like to reconsider your proposal.”
“I will never reconsider my proposal.”
“I insist you explain why.”
“I cannot, at this juncture.”
