A Matter of Convenience, page 16
His fingers released the paper he’d held as the realization sank in. He desired her, of course. There was no denying that. Even better, she responded in the most delightful way. But that was only the beginning of what was between them. He enjoyed her company no matter what they were doing. Surely what they shared was more than convenience. Much more.
Had she acted desperate to marry at any point in the years—seven, according to her—that he’d known her? Never.
That was something else to consider.
“Anthony?”
He looked up to see his brother enter his study.
“Good afternoon, Robert.”
The six years between them kept them from being especially close. Added to that was Robert’s sole focus on doing anything that entertained him, from gambling to horses to women. He made finding pleasure a serious endeavor.
The limited funds Robert had from the income generated by a small holding in Lincolnshire their grandmother had left him allowed him to do what he wished rather than what Anthony wanted. That resulted in more disagreements than Anthony would like.
He hoped that in the coming years, Robert would grow weary of sowing his wild oats and find more worthwhile pursuits. Time would tell.
His brother slouched into the chair before Anthony’s desk, making himself comfortable. That only made Anthony more curious as to the reason behind this visit.
“I ran into Renworth at Tattersall’s this morning,” Robert began.
“Thinking of buying a horse?” Anthony asked though the mention of Renworth was enough to make him clench his jaw.
“No. Viscount Powell is. I was merely along to offer an opinion.”
“Hmm.” He could easily guess what Renworth had said.
“Renworth is an ass.” Robert’s lips twisted with displeasure.
“Agreed.” Anthony had no intention of arguing the point and was pleased Robert saw it, too. If he hadn’t had Renworth’s remarks ringing in his ears, what he’d heard Phoebe say at the Alexander Ball wouldn’t have bothered him nearly as much. That was another issue to consider.
“I have no idea why he and Father were such good companions,” Robert continued.
Because Father was also an ass. But Anthony held his tongue. No need to speak ill of him when he’d been dead for over five years.
“He told me and anyone who’d listen that you were following in Father’s footsteps and had been hooked by...well, I won’t mention what specific body part...”
“The man is tiresome.”
“He insists that you’ve been snared just as Father was and your future is doomed as well.”
Anthony clenched his jaw as anger filled him. How could he keep Renworth from spreading such nonsense, especially when his words might hurt Phoebe? He hated to think who else the marquess had told. “First of all—”
Robert held up a hand to stop him. “No need to say anything. Not to me.” He stared out the window as if gathering his thoughts and ran his forefinger along his upper lip, a gesture their father had often done. How strange. “Of course, I wanted you to know what he was saying.” Robert’s gaze returned to hold Anthony’s. “I also wanted you to know that I like Lady Phoebe. I respect her. She’s kind, intelligent, and thoughtful. I never realized how important those qualities are until she has been near so often of late.”
“I’m pleased you think so.” Phoebe was all those things and more. The knot in Anthony’s chest loosened slightly to learn that his brother saw those qualities, too.
“I realize the events of the Alexander Ball were unfortunate at best.” Robert sat up straight, his gaze holding on Anthony’s with a surprising intensity. “But Lady Phoebe is special. She would be an asset to our family. More importantly, I think she would be good for you.”
Anthony didn’t quite know what to say.
Robert frowned. “I am as guilty as the next man of dismissing ladies after one glance. Phoebe is different. I thought of her only as Viola’s friend for the longest time. Now that I’ve come to know her better, I realize there is an unexpected depth to her that one doesn’t see unless looking closely.”
“I appreciate you telling me this.” More than he could say.
Robert gave a one-shouldered shrug. “I welcome Phoebe as a member of our family. If only there was a way to stop Renworth from spreading those ridiculous rumors.”
“I have yet to think of one.” Anthony had hoped ignoring him would work but apparently not.
“I hope they don’t color your opinion of Phoebe.”
“They don’t.” Anthony heaved a sigh, well aware of how closely Robert watched him. He cared deeply for Phoebe and was eager to tell her that. “However, the events at the Alexander Ball are difficult to ignore.”
Robert nodded. “Understandable.” Then he grinned. “I think it would be flattering to know she thought enough of you to propose. How many men can claim that?”
Anthony smiled. “Few. I suppose I worry whether she chose me for convenience’s sake or because she admires me.”
Robert stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. “The answer is obvious.”
“Oh?” He stilled, anxious to hear Robert’s opinion.
“She is in love with you.” Robert’s expression suggested he couldn’t believe Anthony didn’t know that.
“I hardly think so.” Anthony pushed back from his desk, decidedly uncomfortable. That couldn’t be true. Could it?
“Of course, she is. If you saw the way she looks at you, you wouldn’t have any doubt either.”
If that was true, why had she proposed a marriage of convenience?
If it weren’t true, why would she have responded so ardently to his kisses?
Anthony considered his brother, wondering if he could be right. Robert was not known for his observation skills or in-depth insights. The idea that his younger brother had become aware of Phoebe’s affection before Anthony had made him question whether it just might be true.
What if it was? What if she’d proposed the For Better or Worse idea to the book group in part to give herself a reason to approach him?
The idea boggled his mind. That couldn’t possibly be correct.
“I think you’re mistaken.” Anthony shook his head. He’d known Phoebe for years and never noticed her paying any special attention to him.
Robert didn’t respond but held his silence as if waiting for Anthony to reconsider his answer.
He supposed she’d always acted pleased to see him when he greeted her. Her cheeks pinkened in a lovely way each time he’d asked her to dance over the years even if it had only been once at the beginning of each Season.
However, she’d never flirted with him. Nor had she been overly forward as so many ladies on the hunt for husbands were.
Then again, those were points in her favor.
She had known how long they’d been acquainted. He couldn’t claim to remember that.
While he couldn’t say for certain whether she loved him, the facts suggested that at a minimum, she cared for him. How interesting.
His affection for her ran deep. Deeper than he’d realized. He didn’t want to merely make the best of their situation. He wanted more for their future. Much more. The first thing he needed to do was speak to her and clear any misunderstandings. Preferably as soon as possible.
Robert chuckled, making Anthony wonder if his shifting thoughts were written on his face.
His brother nodded with a knowing smile. “Exactly.”
“Exactly?”
“Lady Phoebe has been in love with you for a long while.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“But—”
Robert held up his hand again. “I am not here to argue. Only to open your eyes, much like Phoebe’s proposal did. I would urge you to act quickly.”
“Yes.” Anthony nodded and risked a glance at the clock, calculating how long it would take to order the carriage and call on her.
“Also, we need to do something about Renworth. Something that will silence him.”
“I would like the same. But if I knew how to do that, it would already be done. Apparently, his niece, whoever that is, convinced him of the lies he’s sharing.”
“Lady Lucinda or Lady Jane?” Robert waved a hand. “It makes no difference. They are the same.”
“I don’t believe I’m acquainted with them.”
“Sisters. But they act as one and never in a good way.”
Unfortunately, there were far too many of their ilk walking about in polite society.
“I’m certain Lady Phoebe knows them,” Robert continued. He shook his head. “If they’re telling their uncle this gossip, they’re telling everyone else as well. This could be a disaster.”
Anthony’s protective instincts rose even higher. He wouldn’t allow anyone to hurt Phoebe. “If you have any suggestions, I’m listening.”
Robert hesitated then said, “Prove him wrong.”
“How?”
“Declare to everyone that you and Phoebe are happy together. That will silence the doubters.”
Anthony pondered the idea, uncertain as to the details. But Robert had the right of it. If he and Phoebe made it clear they were betrothed for all the right reasons, the gossip about how their story began would quickly fade.
Anthony smiled at the thought of shutting up Renworth even though he didn’t know how to make such a declaration. First, he needed to speak to Phoebe to be certain Robert had the right of it. That she truly did care for him. That they did have a chance for a happy life.
A deep longing swept over him at the hope of just how bright their future could be. He’d missed her in the time they’d been apart. He should’ve given her more time to explain along with the privacy to do so at the ball.
The Mayfair Literary League’s agenda might be For Better or Worse, but he would prefer to focus only on the Better part. He was anxious to listen to her account of what he’d overheard. Hopefully, they could move forward from there.
Chapter Nineteen
“I’m so sorry,” Frances whispered as she paused to squeeze Phoebe’s hand before joining the other members of the literary league already seated in the Fitzroy drawing room.
Phoebe returned the gesture and tried to smile but knew she failed. She was too miserable to manage even a pretend one.
Tibby was the last of the six to enter and sent Phoebe a questioning look, clearly confused as to the reason for the meeting.
Phoebe didn’t respond, wanting to tell everyone what had happened at once. She took a seat, noting the quiet that had fallen over the normally boisterous group. Obviously, they knew something was amiss. She only hoped they could forgive her.
Phoebe cleared her throat. “Thank you for coming to this emergency meeting of the Mayfair Literary League. Unfortunate circumstances have occurred, and I owe you an explanation.”
“Are you all right?” Harriet asked, concern puckering her brow.
No, Phoebe wanted to reply. But that would only worry everyone more.
Before she could answer, Frances shook her head. “This is my fault,” she said in a trembling voice.
“Frances, that isn’t true,” Phoebe protested.
Her friend shifted her attention to the other members. “The two of us were speaking at the Alexander Ball four nights ago about my potential bold act and were overheard.”
“By whom?” Tibby asked.
“The Earl of Bolton, for one,” Frances said.
Gasps met Frances’ statement followed quickly by murmurs of concern.
Phoebe’s heart squeezed painfully at the mention of Anthony’s name. She kept her hands folded on her lap. Inside her emotions were in mayhem.
“A few others heard as well,” Phoebe added. “I’m afraid our For Better or Worse agenda is now public knowledge.”
Frances pressed a gloved hand to her mouth, her distress obvious. “If I hadn’t been talking about it, you wouldn’t have answered. Worst of all, I fear that I placed your betrothal in jeopardy.”
Phoebe shook her head. “This isn’t your fault. The agenda was my idea.” She paused to meet each of her friends’ gazes. “I still stand by it. I would’ve preferred our agenda remain private, but what is so wrong with what we hope to do?”
“I agree.” Tibby shared a sympathetic look with both Phoebe and Frances. “I never would’ve thought to act if not for you, Phoebe.”
“Nor I,” Harriet said, and the others chimed in with agreement as well.
“Was your earl quite upset?” Winifred asked.
Phoebe’s shoulders sagged at the memory of Anthony’s confused and hurt expression. “Yes, he was. Words failed me when I tried to explain.” She shook her head. “He compared our mission to a wager at White’s.”
“It’s not the same thing at all,” Millicent countered.
“No,” Phoebe said. “But it did sound terrible when he framed it like that.”
“It truly did,” Frances added, her expression sorrowful as she held Phoebe’s gaze. “Everyone was staring. Including Lady Lucinda.”
“Oh, no. She’s such a notorious gossip.”
“How awful!”
“Of all people.”
“It is concerning that she overheard,” Phoebe agreed. “That is one of the reasons for an emergency meeting. I’m afraid we will be thought of differently now that people know of our agenda. You may want to reconsider whether you wish to proceed with your own bold act.” Phoebe swallowed against the lump in her throat. “Perhaps you’ll also need to reconsider your membership in the literary league.”
“Surely not.” Tibby frowned and glared at each of the other members as if daring them to say they wanted to quit. How had her friend hidden her pluck for so long? “I, for one, am proud to be a member.”
“I can’t imagine anything so drastic will be necessary,” Harriet said, her expression thoughtful. “I would hazard a guess that a far more interesting event will occur in a week or two and no one will remember our little book group or our secret agenda.”
“The league is so much more than either of those things.” Tibby’s gaze took in the members again. “You are all my dear friends. And friends stick together through thick and thin.”
Phoebe drew a slow breath. “While I would agree, my mother has suggested that we disband.”
“No.” Tibby’s lips pursed. “That’s a terrible idea.”
“Wouldn’t disbanding be the same as admitting we did something wrong?” Winifred asked.
As was customary, Phoebe allowed the discussion to continue, watching closely to see if anyone appeared especially concerned or uncomfortable. She wouldn’t blame them if they wanted to leave the group.
Frances was beyond distressed. Phoebe feared she’d never consider moving forward with her agenda now.
Tibby insisted the group should continue, making Phoebe wonder if she’d already started down the path of her brave move. Phoebe hoped so. The league had been good for Tibby’s confidence in the year she’d been a member.
Harriet remained her usual logical self and suggested they take one week at a time to see how matters progressed. She gave Phoebe several reassuring looks, and Phoebe wanted to hug her in return.
The discussion reminded Phoebe of how much she cared for these ladies and how good they were for each other.
“What did Bolton say when you finally had the chance to explain?” Harriet asked.
“I haven’t had the opportunity to do so as of yet.” The sick knot of dread in Phoebe’s stomach tightened. A full day had passed since she’d gone to Anthony’s home, and he had not called on her in return.
She feared that meant she would need to call off the betrothal and set him free. How could she consider spending the rest of her life with him if he detested her? She’d rather risk ruin and remain a spinster than have Anthony be forced to marry her against his wishes.
To think she’d held the promise of the bright future she’d dreamed of for years in the palm of her hand only to lose it in the blink of an eye. Her heart broke at the thought.
“I’M SORRY, MY LORD, but Lady Phoebe is otherwise engaged at the moment,” the Fitzroy butler told Anthony at the front door.
The band around Anthony’s chest tightened, stealing his breath. Had he already lost her? Was he too late? Was this Phoebe’s way of saying she no longer wanted to see him? “Is it possible for me to wait until she’s available?”
“Thank goodness you’ve come, my lord.”
Anthony turned to see Lady Amanda hurrying down the stairs toward him. Though relieved to see her, he would’ve much preferred to see Phoebe. “Good afternoon.”
She gave the briefest curtsy he’d ever witnessed then waved a hand in dismissal. “Yes, yes, lovely weather and all that. We don’t have time for pleasantries.”
He lifted a brow, uncertain as to the cause of her upset. “We don’t?”
“Definitely not.” Lady Amanda gestured for the butler to take his hat then reached for Anthony’s arm and hurried toward the stairs. “The situation is declining rapidly.”
“It is?” His heart stammered, causing a terrible ache in his chest. It was true then. He was too late. He’d lost her. “What has happened? Is Phoebe well?”
“Of course not. She fears she’s lost you.” Lady Amanda halted in the middle of the stairs to stare at him with narrowed eyes. “She hasn’t, has she? Or did you come to request an end to your betrothal?”
“No.” That was the last thing he wanted. His thoughts continued to spin as he tried to grasp what was happening. “I wanted to speak with her to better understand what I overheard at the ball.” Did he dare hope Phoebe’s sister had the same goal in mind as he?
Lady Amanda resumed climbing the stairs, practically dragging him along with her in her rush. “Good. That’s very good. However, she’s called an emergency meeting of the Mayfair Literary League, an unprecedented act, to warn them of the rumor mill about to descend upon them. Nearly half the members don’t attend many events so are more than likely unaware of the dire situation.”
