“Where else do you think this will lead?” she asked, now looking at Phoebe with an expression akin to pity.
“The marquess would never marry a woman like me,” Phoebe said matter-of-factly. “He enjoys my company, true, but to make me his wife? Surely not. I am far too outspoken, and even if he is not aware of my current occupation, he does know my opinion on such matters. And I will never give this up for a man. It is far too important.”
“You never completely answered my question,” Julia persisted. “You say he is a nuisance, true, but you can still feel something for a nuisance. Do you truly have no emotions toward him, no attraction?”
“I do not,” Phoebe said with more emphasis than necessary, and Julia started a bit, causing Phoebe to soften and place a hand on her arm. “I am sorry, Julia. The truth is, perhaps — physically — I am attracted to him, but that is no reason for anything to change. Now, if you would like to stay, you are more than welcome to, but I have some work to do if we are going to manage to get this thing to the printing press in time.”
“Very well,” said Julia, though she eyed Phoebe knowingly. “If you ever need to speak of this, however, you know where to find me.”
Phoebe nodded, smiled, and tried to concentrate on the work in front of her.
* * *
Phoebe mulledover Julia’s words — as well as Jeffrey’s — as she traveled home in the carriage. Some of what he had said to her had been rather concerning. Not only because it expressed a seriousness in his pursuit of her, but, more than that, because it turned something within her, made her feel some sort of hope that shouldn’t be present.
For she and the Marquess of Berkley could never be. She knew that. Perhaps she must discontinue speaking with him at functions. Try to distance herself from him, avoid places he typically liked to frequent. Yes, she thought as she entered the front door of the house, her butler nodding at her in welcome. That’s what she would do.
“Phoebe!” Aurelia called as she entered the door of the drawing room before preparing for dinner. “You will never guess what came.”
“What is it?”
“Guess.”
“But you said I would never – fine. An invitation to dine with the Prince Regent?”
Her aunt swatted her with the paper she held in her hand.
“Of course not, why would you guess that?”
Phoebe chuckled and allowed her aunt to continue.
“We are to attend the theatre tomorrow night with Lord Berkley and his family! Oh Phoebe, how wonderful! You have found love with a marquess. I know you are not interested in a title, but he does seem to be a polite gentleman, and you could find no better family of which to become a part.”
“But I don’t love— you didn’t accept already, did you, Aunt Aurelia?” Phoebe asked as a mixture of dread and excitement began to flow through her veins.
“Of course I did!” she exclaimed. “Now, what shall we wear?”
* * *
Aurelia was soexcited about the potential match between Phoebe and not only a marquess, but also an old family friend, that Phoebe didn’t even have to worry about what she would wear the next evening evening. The moment she entered her bedchamber to prepare, her aunt was right there behind her, bustling about as she opened Phoebe’s wardrobe and began to rapidly review the contents.
“The silver satin?” she mused. “No, no, not appropriate for the theatre. The yellow taffeta?” Phoebe made a sound of disgust. Taffeta was ever so uncomfortable and made her feel like a young girl. She wasn’t even sure why she still owned the dress, and she resolved to be rid of it the moment she had time to go through her things. Aurelia continued to mutter to herself as she browsed the gowns, commenting that perhaps Phoebe should take a morning and visit the modiste’s shop to replace a few of the outdated garments.
The wardrobe itself was tucked away in the corner of the room. Phoebe quite enjoyed the relaxed feel of her bedroom, which had been hers since she was a girl but had certainly grown up with her. The white paneled walls remained bare with the exception of the fleur-de-lis carved into them, and a canopy of crimson poppies on pink and cream stripes flowed from the ceiling down to the head of her bed, the top of which matched the curtains covering the sash windows. A settee of gold, green, and cream sat in front of it, upon which Aurelia was now laying out all manner of gowns. Phoebe’s vanity table, with the small ornate mirror in the center, sat in one corner, her wardrobe in the other. Above it hung a portrait of her parents, the only decoration she wished upon the walls.
A chaise lounge rested near the door, but Phoebe hardly ever set her bottom upon it. Instead, the writing table across from it was where she often found herself in the middle of the night lately, when she was haunted by ideas for the paper that wouldn’t leave her mind or allow her any rest until she had them listed.
“This! This is perfect,” Aurelia exclaimed as she finally decided on a gown, laying out the red silk with its black lace trim on the bed while Phoebe’s maid Nancy waited patiently, a smile on her face. All of the servants loved Aunt Aurelia despite her eccentricities, for she treated them all with kindness. “It gives you such an air of mystery. I’m sure you agree, Nancy, do you not?”
Nancy nodded while Phoebe smiled and she brushed a hand over the gown. She did love this one, it was true, but it was not as though she were trying to trap Jeffrey into anything — rather the opposite, as it were. Though she hadn’t yet shared that with Aunt Aurelia. A small niggling worry had tugged at her, one that told her Aurelia most likely wouldn’t approve of her methods. She had never guessed that they would be invited to socialize with the Worthington family, or that there had been a prior connection between them.
Now, seeing Aurelia’s hopeful gaze, she could hardly say anything to disappoint her at the moment.
“It’s lovely, Aunt Aurelia, and of course I will wear it this evening,” she said, and Aurelia broke into a wide grin. “Now, tell me, what have you selected for yourself?”
Her question brokered the response she had wished for as Aurelia launched into a debate — with herself — over what would be most fitting. Five minutes later, having decided, she nodded her head and sailed out of the room, leaving Phoebe and Nancy to share a smile of both amusement and affection.
Once she had dressed and prepared for the evening, wrapping a black shawl around her shoulders, Phoebe had to admit, however, that Aurelia was right. This dresswasappropriate for the occasion — and the circumstances that accompanied it.