CHAPTER31
Phoebe stared at the note in her hand. She had dressed so carefully that morning, prepared to go speak with Jeffrey, perhaps for the last time. And then the note had arrived. The paper was crinkled, as she had read it multiple times already, far too many to be acceptable. It was rather sad, was she being honest. What he could want with her now, she had no idea, but she had a feeling it couldn’t be anything good, now could it? She allowed no hope to enter her heart, for she could no longer take the disappointment that would crash down on her when she would, no doubt, be utterly wrong.
She placed the note on the desktop before her, smoothing down the crinkled edges. She looked up and around at the office that she thought of as partly still her father’s, partly now her own, and sighed deeply. She was an independent woman, true, and she prided herself on that fact, but there were times, such as in this very moment, she longed to speak with her parents, to know what they would advise her to do.
She looked back down in front of her.
Phoebe,
I would ask you to meet with me in two days’ time. I will collect you at two o’clock in the afternoon.
Jeffrey
That was it.Short, to the point, yet written in his hand, so it was not as though he had dictated it. There were no words of undying love. Not even a “Yours, Jeffrey.”
What could he possibly want? Was he taking her into the authorities, to turn her in as the publisher? But of course not. For she had done nothing illegal, nothing wrong, despite how many would likely feel otherwise. Phoebe took a breath to calm her trembling hands. Should she go ahead and do his bidding?
Well, she supposed she had wanted to see him anyway, to apologize. But she had been looking forward to doing it today, to be done with it so she could move on with her life, if she could. She would try her utmost, anyway.
She reached for a piece of paper and her pen, to return his note before she could talk herself out of it. She was a strong woman, she told herself, and she was not going to allow heartbreak to change that, to make her weak or indecisive. And, despite the fact that they both knew she was capable of writing much more eloquently, she allowed herself a slight moment of pettiness as she responded to him in much the same vein as his original note. She thought about addressing it to The Marquess of Berkley, but perhaps that was going a bit too far.
Jeffrey,
I will see you at two o’clock on Wednesday.
Phoebe
* * *
The next twodays were both the longest and the shortest of Jeffrey’s life. He spent them concerned about whether or not he could succeed in both winning Phoebe’s hand as well as keeping her from the persecution of his brother, the Earl of Totnes, and the many others in the nobility wishing for her downfall — a group that he himself had been a part of not long ago. If only he could convince them of some of what he had come to realize himself — that just as two parties coexisted among Parliament, so too, perhaps, could the differing ideas of those who agreed with Phoebe’s beliefs and those who opposed them.
He had become accustomed to seeing her regularly, and the time without her presence stretched interminably. He considered what his life would be like should she choose a path without him, and it seemed infinitely bleak and desolate without her in it. Even now when he considered his life before she had entered it, it seemed devoid of the vitality he had come to know, created by her smile and her wit, which had invaded his soul and captured his heart.
It had, however, been a busy few days. He had much to accomplish in order to ensure that all was in order, but, with a little help from his faithful and efficient secretary, he had completed all by his self-imposed deadline.
Now his carriage drew up to Phoebe’s home, and he twisted his hands together in his lap, determined not to show any bit of nerves once he was in her company. He disembarked and was halfway up the walk toward the door when she stepped outside, her maid following. Ah, so she had decided this would be a formal visit, with a proper chaperone today.
He wasn’t sure how to greet her, but she solved the problem for him.
“Jeffrey,” she said with a nod as she drew close, and his heart ached with the need to reach out and take her in his arms. For her face was drawn, her cheeks pinched, and that full bottom lip that constantly beckoned to him was currently being nibbled on by her own teeth.
But instead, he simply returned her nod and extended his arm.
“You look lovely,” he said as they walked to the carriage, and it was true that her gown, peeking out beneath her billowing navy cloak, was a scarlet red that perfectly suited her complexion, and nothing could hide the sultry green of her eyes, nor how striking her face was. He would bring vibrancy back into it very soon, he promised himself, and as much as he wished to tell her what awaited her, to do so would ruin everything.
“Thank you,” she said, and as she stepped into the carriage, she finally showed some emotion when she noticed Maxwell was waiting for her, his tail wagging excitedly. She took his face in her hands and gave him a quick kiss on the nose as she took a seat in the carriage, her maid settling in up top with the driver. When they were finally alone — save the dog — she looked at Jeffrey pointedly, slightly unnerving him. Jeffrey sat across from her, his legs outstretched, though she quite clearly moved as far from him as possible so that there was no risk of them accidentally touching. Phoebe sat with her hands fisted together in her lap, her posture so straight that even the strictest mother of thetonwould approve. Her face was stoic, no emotion playing over it, and he desperately wished to know of what she was thinking.
“Where are we going?” she asked bluntly.
He smiled. She always did get to her point as quickly as possible.
“You will find out soon,” he promised, and she narrowed her eyes.
“I would like to know if I should be concerned about our destination.”
But of course. She was worried that he had collected her in order to bring about the demise ofThe Women’s Weekly. It rankled at him that she would suspect such actions of him, that she did not understand that his feelings for her were strong enough to overcome whatever else may have once been a concern.
“Do you truly think so little of me?” he asked, looking up at her from across the carriage, leaning forward toward her with his elbows on his thighs.