Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Knightswood Manor, four weeks later
T ufts of cotton grass danced in the breeze, their ivory blooms swaying above the moorland gorse as Phoebe leaned forward to pat Misty’s dappled neck.
‘You’re right,’ she whispered as Misty whinnied impatiently, ‘it’s far too long since we’ve been to the woods. You watch the path and I’ll listen for warblers, it’ll be just like old times.’
Phoebe urged her forward, letting her choose her path through the prickly gorse and marshy soil, while she filled her lungs with the heather-sweet air.
‘You’ll always be the lady of us,’ she murmured.
The day hadn’t yet arrived, and shadows of night lingered over the hills, creating the sleepy, misted world she’d missed so much.
‘How about we take our old trail, so we’re back in time for breakfast?’ she suggested, as they reached the edge of the trees. ‘We’ll keep a close eye on the sun,’ she added, ‘you know how fractious Sophie gets if we’re late.’
Misty whinnied while she exhaled. Sophie had only just begun talking to her again, and she’d no desire to upset her further.
Quietly, they followed the glistening river into the woods, Misty’s hooves treading the mossy trail with practised ease until they reached the river stepping stones, where Phoebe drew to a standstill. She paused, letting echoes of her childhood reach out from the rippling, moorland water. They were carefree, sunlit days, unlike the journey home four weeks before, when a coldness had entered her heart. And day by day, hour by hour, ever since, it had been thawing.
They’d come so close to losing Josephine. If she closed her eyes, she could still see her sister’s blue lips, still feel the cost of each laboured, wracking breath – yet somehow, they’d made it home, and the moment they turned into Knightswood’s gates, Josephine seemed to breathe more easily.
Then, armed only with Dr Kapoor’s medicinal brew, and fresh moorland air, she and Sophie had nursed their sister through the worst of her delirium. It was different this time. She didn’t regain consciousness for days, and at one point seemed to lack the strength to return at all. But they refused to give up and slowly the midnight fevers and choking fits lessened, until finally, she opened her eyes.
‘There, Misty, all is well now, she is recovered,’ Phoebe whispered, as much to reassure herself as anything else.
If only the same could be said of her own heart.
She swallowed, thinking of the long nights Sophie had remained silent, refusing to talk to her at all, before her inevitable fury.
‘ Of all the gentlemen in Bath, you had to choose the one I cared about, and make me feel a complete fool… It doesn’t matter that you aren’t married now, you were going to be, and that changes everything… You aren’t the sister I thought you were!’
The words were etched into Phoebe’s heart, and even though gossip about her intended elopement had helped to quell the rumours about the captain, there had been plenty more about herself. Approval of the family rested on a knife edge, and it had been deemed best they all withdrew, the captain went abroad, and Dr Kapoor continued with his research at Oxford. All of which had left a strange wariness between the sisters that had eased gradually into a sombre acceptance.
‘Careful, Misty, the ground is a little uneven here,’ she murmured, as her pony stepped into the fresh spring river.
It hadn’t taken long for news of her scandalous race, and intended elopement, to reach the earl’s ears, and his rebuke echoed as Misty leaned low to take a drink.
‘I’d rather write off Fairfax’s debt altogether than marry a hoydenish miss without a shred of propriety or family honour!’
Which had given rise to the first unexpected thing. Thomas hadn’t banished her to one of Knightswood’s leaky turrets.
This was a much happier outcome than she’d dared hope for, and while he still read her a long lecture on the unfortunate fate that befell sisters who chose to ignore those who knew better, he’d also given her the estate books and accounts, together with a short note about how he hadn’t expected to be a guardian at thirty.
It felt like the closest thing to an apology.
Since then, she’d discovered she’d quite a talent when it came to managing the estate, and had already made several suggestions for improvements, including running water to all the bedchambers, which Thomas had agreed to consider. He’d also agreed to her overseeing Matilda’s studies, which she ensured included plenty of time for tree-climbing, and treasure-hunting.
And so the days passed. News from Bath was slow and intermittent, which they all welcomed, and yet also gave rise to the second unexpected thing: the viscount and Aurelia didn’t marry.
‘It’s just us and the woodland fae, isn’t it, Misty?’ Phoebe murmured, the ancient oaks reaching over their heads to create a natural canopy.
And in that moment, enclosed in the heart of the woods, she could have believed in a little magic. Because she didn’t really trust her eyes when she glimpsed a distant figure coming toward her, a figure on a familiar grey, with a proud seat and dark, tousled hair. She drew to a halt, unwilling to tread further and watch the apparition melt away with the night shadows. Except it didn’t. It continued getting closer, until she could see the light in his jewelled eyes.
‘It’s really you?’ she whispered, as he stopped and dismounted.
Phoebe swallowed, suddenly aware of the pounding inside her chest reaching over the dawn song around them. She’d tried to picture the viscount’s face so many times these past weeks, but never could outside her dreams, when he came to her in the kind of intimacy that left her breathless and bereft when she woke.
Yet this was no dream; he was right here, standing before her, extending his hand – and then, she too was in the stream, standing closer than was good for either of them.
‘Sophie said I could find you here.’ His voice caught as his eyes held hers.
‘I thought you’d gone to London…’
‘I’m staying nearby, and couldn’t…’
They trailed off as their voices overlapped, and for the first time Phoebe noticed his loose shirt, unkempt hair and boots speckled with moorland moss. He’d never looked less perfect. She gazed at him, noting the way the light caught his dark eyelashes, accentuating their curve, and the golden hue of his skin inside the open collar of his shirt. She swallowed, conscious of a rush of something as he smiled, stealing words.
‘Well, I might have,’ he murmured, ‘had it not been for someone who insists on proving me wrong – about everything.’
She smiled faintly.
‘I thought I was a hare-brained simpleton who needs to rethink her expectations?’
He cursed softly, before catching her hand and raising it to his lips, kissing it with the kind of fervour she thought belonged only to novels.
‘I am the biggest simpleton for ever saying it!’ he groaned. ‘And while you will need some driving tuition before you go near my greys again…’
His eyes danced as Phoebe bit her lip.
‘Upon my family’s honour, I’ve never known a girl as headstrong, stubborn, reckless, and hopelessly courageous as you,’ he murmured. ‘You are a heroine in every way.’
She looked up in astonishment, unsure how to receive compliments from a man who’d only ever laboured her shortcomings.
He was so close now she could feel his breath on her cheek, his heat blurring her thoughts, and suddenly she realised she wanted him too close, this arrogant viscount who’d done nothing but infuriate and interfere since the day they met.
‘What of Aurelia?’ she whispered, her name feeling awkward in the space between them.
He drew a breath.
‘That betrothal was arranged when we were each in the cradle. I never relished the prospect, but was prepared to honour it until Elliot told me her part in your escapades. Since then, the Marquis and Marchioness of Carlisle have called off the engagement. They were quite willing, after I pointed out the perils of their only daughter concluding her first season amid a cloud of rumours involving dubious actresses and snuff! As I understand it, she may well be the new countess before the year is out, anyway.’
A slow smile spread across Phoebe’s face.
‘If anyone was ever born to it,’ she murmured, raising her eyebrows.
‘She will make a much better countess than you,’ he agreed.
‘Oh, yes?’ Phoebe parried. ‘And why is that? Apart from the fact I’m not fit to grace polite circles as a general rule?’
‘On the contrary,’ he smiled, gold flecks glistening, ‘it’s just I believe you would make a much better viscountess.’
There was a brief silence when a lone blackbird warbled softly.
‘But I punched you!’ she whispered, her thoughts in glorious disarray. ‘And broke your window … and stole your precious greys … and nearly married your brother!’
‘Greys aside, your crimes have only worsened my affliction,’ he whispered, gently tucking back a tendril of her hair.
‘But I promised Matilda I’d never marry,’ she breathed, ‘unless it was to a pirate – or a schoolmaster with an extensive library of heroic novels.’
He smiled and took her hands.
‘I may not be a pirate or a schoolmaster, but I can help with a school.’
Phoebe stared.
‘Ebcott Place?’ he added. ‘Somewhere girls like Josephine and Florence can learn, unhindered, because they have the best doctor in residence.’
‘Doctor Kapoor?’ Phoebe asked in wonder.
‘Doctor Kapoor can’t conduct research at Oxford forever.’ He smiled. ‘Elliot can visit when he’s on leave, and General Matilda, of course, can keep us all in line.’
He caught his breath then, the sun just melting through the trees.
‘I meant what I said at Damerel Place,’ he whispered. ‘You’ve stolen my peace, and I cannot sleep or breathe without you … Rescue me, Phoebe? You’ll have all the adventure you want – providing it doesn’t involve running away with my brother.’
There was a moment’s quiet, when the blackbird warbled again.
‘Well then…’ she replied with a gentle smile, ‘it’s probably the most heroic thing I can do.’