And with that she practically flew into the dress shop, where she waited by the window, watching him depart as she determined just how long she would have to wait until she could emerge once more.
He had been generous with his time, chivalrous even, for which she certainly could not fault him. And yet it irked her that it would be so untoward for her to walk through the streets alone. Really, what could happen to her in a street filled with businesses in the middle of the day? she wondered as she politely thanked Madame Boudreau for her offer of assistance, but told her she was would have to return another day when she had more time to browse. It wasn’t as though she were strolling along the streets of the Seven Dials without a care. Why, the marquess could have just as easily taken advantage of her as any other man.
She frowned when the thought of his body against hers in a way altogether improper caused not the consternation she would have hoped, but rather a warm flush to begin to flood through her.Stop it, Phoebe. You’re being ridiculous.
Men such as the marquess were the very reason it was better to become a spinster unless one found true love. Aunt Aurelia had never married and enjoyed life just fine — just as Phoebe likely would.
A grin took over her face, however, when she thought of just what the marquess would think if he knew what she was truly doing here near Fleet Street. Not shopping for dresses — the riot of color around her was beautiful, to be sure, but did not captivate her attention as it did many women. Oh no, it was the thought of printing presses now that made her blood rush quickly through her veins. The marquess would be scandalized. Which was exactly the point.
* * *
Jeffrey tookone last long look at the dress shop, shaking his head as he continued on his way. Lady Phoebe. Just when he had successfully omitted her from his thoughts, there she was, rushing back in again. He couldn’t determine exactly what it was about her that caused such turmoil to arise within him, but she was like a storm — majestic and astonishing, yet so tumultuous and destructive.
She needed someone to watch out for her. He pitied her for the loss of her parents, but it wasn’t right for a woman — particularly a young woman such as she — to be alone in the world without a man to protect her. Despite her protestations, it wasn’t natural, as was apparent by her wandering Fleet Street completely alone, save for her driver a fair distance away. What kind of chaperone was her aunt, allowing Lady Phoebe the freedom to act completely as she pleased?
But this lady wasn’t his problem, he reminded himself as he continued on a few streets off of Fleet to meet his brother at the address provided to him on the note he had sent. Jeffrey had enough to deal with himself, including four sisters, as well as a brother who seemed intent on destroying him.
What Ambrose was up to now, he had no idea. His note had been cryptic, but Jeffrey feared it was another scheme of his, trying to make himself quick coin. By his own choosing, Ambrose lacked any sort of purpose, and the majority of his time was occupied spending his entire allowance, using most of it in a fool’s quest to become independently wealthy. The more Jeffrey tried to convince him that it would never work and that he should make himself an honest living, the more determined Ambrose was to prove his brother wrong. Jeffrey continually found himself thrust into situations in which he had to save his brother, and he was tired of it.
Finding the correct address to be a small, rather unkept building crammed between two others, he knocked, only for the door to swing open at his touch.
“Jeffrey, there you are!”
Wary, Jeffrey took a slow step inside, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dim light. Despite the fact that the sun was shining, the windows were smoky, the floorboards scuffed and dirty, and the odd assortment of furniture was scattered around the room in various states of disarray. Finally he found his brother perched on one such rickety wooden chair, a hefty man sitting in the shadows across the table between them.
“Meet Hector,” Ambrose said, sweeping his arm across the table with a flourish. “He’s about to make us rich.”
“Hector,” Jeffrey nodded toward him before returning his attention back to his brother, ignoring the chair to which Ambrose gestured. “Make us rich, will he? How so?” he asked with sarcasm.
“Well, all we need to do is to give him a small sum of money, and then within a year, he will more than double it. Perhaps even triple it!” Enthusiasm lit up Ambrose’s face as Jeffrey rubbed his brow. He had cleared his afternoon forthis?
“Come, Ambrose, let’s go,” he said, gesturing to the door. “Excuse me, Hector. Our apologies.”
Ambrose stood but refused to move, stubbornness setting in. “Can you not even listen to his plan?”
“No.”
“He lends money, Jeffrey, then charges interest back. It’s a sure thing, for if people do not pay, then—”
“I said, no.” Not wanting to argue with his family in front of a stranger, Jeffrey strode over to the door without looking back, wrenching it open as he stepped outside, allowing it to slam behind him. He was pulling his gloves back over his fingers, breathing deeply to find a sense of calm, when Ambrose finally joined him.
“That was terribly rude, Jeffrey. Hector didn’t do anything wrong, and you hardly even acknowledged him.”
“Hector is making his money off of people’s misfortune. That is not the way I do business, Ambrose, and I should hope that neither do you.”
“He’s helping people, really,” Ambrose attempted to reason as Jeffrey began walking down the street to where his carriage awaited. Ambrose’s charming, handsome face, which he had used to extricate himself from more than one scrape, was beaming up at Jeffrey now, but he would certainly not be fooled by his brother. Oh, no, he knew him far too well, had allowed him too much leniency in the past.
“It’s time you began acting like an adult, Ambrose,” he said as a father would, though he was only two years his brother’s senior. “You have a choice.”
Ambrose looked at him warily but said nothing.
“You have the small estate near Peterborough. You could actually take some responsibility for it, grow it to the point where it is much more profitable.”
“But it’s so far from London! I—”
“Or, I would purchase you a commission.”
“The military?” Ambrose looked horrified. “Do you really think I would be fit for themilitary, Jeffrey?”