“Oh milady, don’t be! I am here with you, and if you speak to the Viscount, surely he…he will agree to your bargain.”
Her words were meant to soothe, but Sarah’s gaze slid away guiltily. She did not believe it, either. What lord, a future earl, would wish to marry Phoebe once he discovered her secret?
She had learned from her brother that it was an exercise in futility to linger within the past when one did not have the power to change it. When the water had already flowed east, there was no path to getting it back west. The only choice she had was to look to the future and make smart decisions that would protect the life and the future of the child she carried.
Another solution needed to be found right away.
Chapter Four
It would be wise if Hugh waited until his curious lady—no, Lady Phoebe—washed away the dust from travel before he summoned her to a meeting. Phoebe. The pleasure of using even a piece of her name was…unexpected but pleasant. He liked her name. There could be no delay in discussing what her presence meant for everyone concerned and exactly what he would do about her. His father hobbled past him just now, but instead of harsh words, the old earl had simply stared at him before heading off to his own chambers.
Hugh entered the three stories floor to ceiling library where his sister lay sprawled with casual elegance in a deep chair beside the fireplace. He clapped his hands once. Caroline glanced up from the book clasped in her hands, her eyes rounded in dismay. “Hugh, is all well?”
“I need you to speak for me.”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
Caroline cast a desperate glance at her book. “But I am at the part where the hero will find out if the lady in the attic is a ghost!”
Hugh smiled. “We have a visitor.”
His sister frowned. “Who?”
“The beginning of Father’s plan.”
Caroline flinched before smoothing her expression. Yet her eyes glowed with such hope, it brought a knot to his throat. “Someone actually came after you revealed our family’s name? I thought the infamy of the Winthrops would live on forever.”
Another throb of an undefinable emotion went through him. “This lady came uninvited.”
Now his sister stood, smoothing down the front of her dress, a nervous gesture she seemed unaware of. “Uninvited?”
He nodded.
Her face alighted with curiosity. “In direct response to the advert?”
Another nod.
“She is desperate, then.” Caroline bit her lower lip, her eyes soft and questioning. “But does she have the right connections to…that our problems might be overlooked?”
“Her family is on the list of the most powerful families of the ton that Father made.”
Caroline’s lips parted with shock. “Good heavens! And she came here? Something must be dreadfully wrong.”
Something terrible pushed her to leave her home only with a maidservant as chaperone. Hugh suspected it would be difficult for her to meet him with Caroline by his side. “Never mind. Return to your reading. I will meet with her alone.”
“It will be very awkward to communicate with her,” his sister rebutted, looking anxious for him.
Another hard knot formed inside as he anticipated the usual discomfort that normally came whenever he tried to speak without an interpreter. “I believe it would be more so for her with both of us in her room. As you said, something dreadful must have happened. I will tread with care.”
Caroline nodded, and Hugh padded to the oak desk to retrieve several sheaves of papers, a couple quills and inkwell. Hugh then made his way up the winding staircase to the room lady Phoebe had been assigned. He lifted his fist to knock, only to lower it when a voice cried.
“Leave, milady? And go where?”
“It was a mistake coming here, Sarah. I was reckless and did not plan properly.”
“And where will you go, milady?”
“Not to London or Derbyshire,” Lady Phoebe said softly. “Perhaps to my aunt Polly in Cornwall. She, too, is deemed scandalous by Mama. Aunt Polly might not object to my circumstance and might help me create a story of widowhood.”
“Oh, my lady, I think one of the first places the duke and duchess would check is with your aunt, and I dare not think you will be able to convince your mother to let you keep…”
So she was running from her parents. How curious. The Duke of Salop was from the Maitlands’ family line—a very powerful and influential family anyone would want to be aligned with, and the man’s daughter had delivered herself into Hugh’s lap. The old earl had made it a part of his tutelage to know the powers and limitations of many families in the ton.
And he had also warned him to ruthlessly question the value of a gift to see if it was worth accepting.
“I feel so lost, Sarah,” Lady Phoebe said in a choked voice. “It is cruel and wrong to do what my mother wants. I cannot do it, I just cannot, even to save myself from scandal and disgrace!”
Even more interesting.
“I do understand, milady!”
“Oh, Sarah, I feel so afraid…and so alone in this unexpected journey. I am adrift and unsure of the path forward, like a blade of grass drifting with the wind, and it cannot be so. More than one life depends on me to be strong and resourceful.”
Hugh canted his head. More than one life. How properly ominous.
“Perhaps the young lord will marry you,” Sarah proffered hopefully.
“He is the future Lord of Albury! Such a man would never marry me once he learned my secret.”
Those words settled low in his gut, hard and heavy. Another secret.
He knocked on the door three times. It was shortly opened by the maid, who dipped into a quick, respectful curtsy. Lady Phoebe stood and hurriedly wiped the tears from her face. She was still clothed in her cloak, though her gloves and bonnet had been removed. Was she still cold?
Hugh entered and lifted his chin toward the hallway, a clear signal that he required to speak with her lady alone. She glanced at her mistress, who nodded slightly before hurrying from the room, but careful to leave the door ajar.
Hugh smiled and pushed the door closed into her startled face.
“Viscount Huxley,” Lady Phoebe admonished, glancing at the door behind him.
He walked over to where she stood by the sofa and sat on the cushion close to her, leaning forward to rest the ink and inkwell on the small walnut table. There was a pause before she lowered herself beside him but shifted so there was space between them. Hugh glanced at her, almost startled by her closeness. He could see the wild flutter of pulse at her throat. He couldn’t help staring at her, a regard she returned, almost shyly. There was a stubborn pride in the set of her small chin, and her golden eyes were truly the prettiest he’d ever seen. Those eyes were a wide pool of pain, with vulnerability and uncertainty etched on her face as if rendered by a loving artist’s gentle brush, yet he also saw delicacy and strength.