CHAPTER17
Phoebe nervously twisted her hands in her lap as she attempted to concentrate on the play before her, the large stage filled with extensive scenery and a continual exhibition of actors. They were extremely talented, that she knew. Her fingers itched to remove her tablet from her reticle and take notes.The Women’s Weeklyshould certainly have a column on theatre, she decided, and determined that she would write the very first review herself.
But first, she had to make sure she knew of what she was writing.
The Berkley box was on the second level, with an enormous chandelier hanging overtop of them. As Phoebe watched the actors, she found her gaze wandering to the elegant, lofty pilasters supporting the semi-elliptical arch, the royal arms looking down over all of them. She knew the construction of this building had been a triumphant success following the burning of the first theatre a few years prior. Certainly, it contained marvelous ingenuity, the way the slightest sound resounded around the theatre — such as the whispers of the man across from her as he unabashedly stared down into the bosom of the woman sitting next to him. Hopefully she was his wife, though Phoebe somewhat doubted it.
This was certainly a spectacle, and she was not speaking of the play before her, but rather the players that filled the theatre. What would it be like, she wondered, to be sitting down within the pit? How very different life would be. She noted these thoughts as well, determining that they would make an intriguing sidebar to her review of the play. Or perhaps the review should be the sidebar. She chewed her lip as she contemplated the idea.
“Stop it,” Jeffrey whispered in her ear, and she turned sharply toward him, raising an eyebrow in question. “That thing with your lip,” he explained in the slightest whisper directly in her ear. “It’s driving me mad.”
She stopped immediately but then thought only of him and the kiss in the Torringtons’ private box for the rest of the act. Really, what had he been thinking? If she wasn’t careful, Collette would be writingherinto the next gossip column. Although perhaps that would sell more papers.
Phoebe was so distracted that she hardly knew to whom King Henry was currently married when intermission came about. They spilled out into the salon beyond the private boxes, which was suddenly filled with a symphony of voices as all of the attendees emerged with the same mission: to determine who was in attendance, and what they could take away as the gossip of the evening.
Phoebe swiveled her head from one side to the other to see if she recognized anyone, but then she felt a slight touch on her arm.
“Lady Phoebe, would you mind if we had a quick word?” Phoebe nodded in surprise at Lady Berkley’s request, curious as to what Jeffrey’s mother would wish to speak with her about in private. By mutual agreement, they wandered over to a corner against the wall. Phoebe jumped when she felt something dig into her back, but turned only to find that she had backed up too far, into the foot of a statue standing atop a pillar.
“It’s quite an intriguing play, is it not?” she asked Lady Berkley with a smile, to which the marchioness nodded.
“It is. I have seen it many times, but never with such vivid actors onstage, who make it far too real. One forgets that this actually occurred many years ago,” she said, a dreamy look on her face, before she shook her head as though clearing it. She took a deep breath and Phoebe’s heart raced a little faster, though why she should be nervous about speaking with the amiable woman, she had no idea.
“I am being rather forward in speaking to you of this, Lady Phoebe,” she said nervously. “And really, I should not at all. Please do not tell my son of this conversation, for he would be mortified. It is only … Jeffrey has not portrayed much affection for any particular woman since he came of age. His father died fairly young, leaving Jeffrey with a great amount of responsibility, including four sisters who are, as I’m sure you have ascertained for yourself, a rather unruly bunch, for the most part.
“Jeffrey has always been so focused on his work, on caring for the rest of us, you see, that he has not taken much time to look after his own wellbeing, nor his own heart. As of late, he has seemed a bit more distracted than usual, to which I look upon as a good thing. As a mother, I want my children only to be happy, and with you, Lady Phoebe, he does seem so. Happy, I mean. He is taken with you, though he seems unsure of your own feelings toward him. All I ask, Lady Phoebe, is for you to take care of his heart. It takes quite a bit for him to share it and I only wish for it not to be broken.”
Phoebe stared at her wide-eyed as Lady Berkley finished her speech, and unconsciously bit her teeth into her lower lip hard enough that she caused herself to jump slightly. Guilt began to roll through her. She had knowingly played Jeffrey, never dreaming that he would ever come to feel something for her besides outrage. She had slapped him, for goodness sake!
Their fiery discord from the outset had certainly led to passionate moments in which they showed one another just how much they physically desired one another, but as for what she actually felt for him…. She searched the room now, finding him standing with his sisters and her aunt. His sandy hair atop his tall, wide frame stood out among the crowd. He must have sensed her stare, for he returned her gaze, a slight smile crossing his lips, changing his face from its hard, imposing countenance to one that was warm and inviting.
She sighed as her heart thumped a traitorous beat in her chest. She yearned for him — she could not deny that as much as she wished to. She was also fully aware that her urge for him was running much deeper than a surface attraction. She had to put an end to it.
Or did she?
Of course she did, she thought, reminding herself that the man was out to destroy her publication and all she believed in. He himself believed all sorts of lies about women. It would never do. Besides all that, the moment he found out her secrets, he would lose any sort of attraction he had ever had toward her. For that was all it was. His mother was being hopeful — fanciful even.
She turned back toward Lady Berkley and the soft smile on her face, as she had clearly been aware of Phoebe’s perusal of her son, likely believing it to be an amorous one.
“I—” Phoebe began, but halted, not knowing what else to say. She didn’t want to lie to the woman, but she also could not very well tell her of the duplicity that began all of this. “I believe that all will work out as it should,” she managed. “You have a wonderful family, Lady Berkley, and the marquess has proven to be quite a gentleman.”
Lady Berkley beamed and placed a hand on Phoebe’s arm.
“Thank you, my dear,” she said, then leaned in and said warmly, “I believe you are just what he needs.”
Just what he needs? She would have thought that she was the last woman on earth a man like Jeffrey would need. What was the marchioness on about?
As they returned to the rest of their party, Phoebe had to blink back tears as Lady Berkley’s words left her heart and her mind at war with one another. She could very well tell herself all the lies she wished.
But the truth of the matter was, she was falling for Jeffrey Worthington, Marquess of Berkley, and there was nothing rational thought could do to stop it.
* * *
Jeffrey longedto know what his mother and Phoebe had been speaking of in the corner of the salon. Most men would look upon such a conversation as something to be fearful of, but Jeffrey had a unique advantage over most other men, which was the fact that his mother was actually a sensible woman who cared for more than only her children’s marriage prospects and securing the highest social standing possible.
And Phoebe did not look particularly upset about the conversation. If anything, she looked… contemplative. When she and his mother rejoined them, he searched Phoebe’s face, and she responded with a small curve of her lips. Well, that was encouraging, he supposed.
When it was time to return to the theatre, he took her arm and drew her close, dipping his head down toward hers. “Is everything all right?” he questioned.