Phoebe didn’t know how long they would have continued, practically making love in the gardens of the Holderness estate, but suddenly a drop of moisture hit the back of her neck and she shivered involuntarily. It was but the first warning, however, as soon a deluge of rain descended from the sky, the clouds having collected the water throughout the day, now opening up and sending it down upon them, seemingly all at once.
They broke apart, staring at one another in astonishment for one crazed moment before he took her hand in his, and, fingers intertwined, he led her racing back toward the house. Instead of returning to the ballroom, however, he pulled her under the balcony so that they were hugging the wall, though he didn’t pull her up against him once more, leaving her confusingly bereft.
“We cannot go in there like this,” he murmured, his voice husky as his brown eyes analyzed her, and she brought a hand to her hair, finding that it was now all hanging in clumps around her head, soaked right through. Suddenly a horrid thought rushed through her, and she looked down to see what effect the rain had upon her dress. As she feared, the silk gown was now plastered to her skin, the material of the dress hugging her to reveal far more than she would have cared to show.
The marquess apparently noticed as well, as he swallowed and cleared his throat before removing his jacket and throwing it around her shoulders.
“I cannot wear this!” she protested.
“It’s much better that you do,” he responded, staring off into the distance, refusing to look back down at her. Was he really so repulsed by what he saw? “Now, come,” he said. “We’d best get you straight to your carriage.”
He led her around the side of the building, an arm around her back as they slowly navigated the slippery steps and pebbly path that led around the side of the house toward the Mayfair street. Eventually Phoebe found her own carriage, and as she climbed the steps inside, she began to remove his jacket to return it.
He held a hand out, stalling her. “I’ll have the butler find your aunt before I return home myself,” he said. “I will collect the jacket tomorrow when I come to call. Which, I do not remember you agreeing to. So tell me, Lady Phoebe,” he said, leaning further into the carriage, which made it suddenly feel much smaller than it was. “Do you permit me to call upon you tomorrow?”
Yes, she had specifically avoided the question. She had wanted this, a short flirtation, but had never imagined it would become so … heated … so soon. It was moving altogether too fast for her, and yet to say no now would not only push him away but would also force a blockade between them.
“Very well,” she finally said. “I shall see you tomorrow.”
At that he only nodded before shutting the carriage door, leaving her to her musings within.
Phoebe forced herself to remember their first encounter and all he had said to her. This was not the kind of man she needed in her life. She was only entertaining this charade to keep apprised of his movements.
Yet that kiss… perhaps Elizabeth was right. Perhaps she was getting far too ahead of herself.
Whatever was she going to do about this man?
* * *
It wasa question she was still mulling over in her mind the next day as she waited anxiously in her drawing room. It seemed silly, to be here waiting for a man when she had much to do at the office, in addition to the tasks of looking after her own household, but there was nothing to be done about it. This was why she had hired an editor, she reminded herself. But the truth was that she enjoyed the actual running of the publication, liked the hubbub of people working around her.
But this was more important. Today, without the distraction of his arms and lips — oh, those lips — she would determine exactly what he was up to.
And in the meantime, she would write her column. She was going to write it on the fact that one could not pinpoint the very nature of women because women, in fact, were as different from one another as men.
She was having a hard time concentrating, however, and she blamedhimfor it. He had made her forget everything that was important, and she didn’t like it — not one bit.
Aunt Aurelia had been full of questions when she had joined Phoebe in the carriage, of course, but Phoebe hadn’t felt inclined to share much about her time with Lord Berkeley. She told Aurelia instead that she had been out for a walk in the gardens and been caught in the rain. The marquess had happened upon her and had graciously walked her back to the carriage. That was, after all, the truth. For the most part, anyway. She wasn’t sure if Aunt Aurelia had entirely believed her but she had, eventually, let the matter go.
Despite the fact that she was waiting for it, when the knock came on the door, Phoebe stood abruptly, startled, nodding at the butler when he introduced Lord Berkley, as well as Lady Viola. Wait… Lady Viola? She had no time to contemplate the implications of Lord Berkley bringing his sister along when the two of them were shown into the parlor.