Chapter 15 #3
“I have…” Her voice shook slightly. “I have stories to tell. I have an active imagination and enjoy sharing my thoughts with others. I want to be heard and appreciated. Seen.”
Her shoulders sagged, as though making this admission had sapped all her strength.
“I shall listen to you, Phoebe,” he swore.
“I will hear your words and revel in your stories. When we are together, we will not constrain our emotions or hide behind the titles we were born to inherit. I will honor you and cherish the time we spend together. We will not allow our titles to define us.”
Her eyes met his, her expression grateful and sorrowful at once. “Thank you.” She quickly turned away, as if embarrassed, and looked at the array of hard, boiled sweets and pastries. “It is a shame that the vendor is not present, these look rather delicious.”
“Pick any you like,” he told her. “I will leave a generous payment behind us.”
“Truly?”
“Truly. It is my treat.” He paused. “Especially because I owe you an apology, Phoebe. I should not have left you in the garden as I did.”
“No,” she said quietly, “no, you should not have left me.” Her eyes widened, as if she thought she should be so outspoken, but Sebastian only nodded at her to go on.
“Your rejection hurt. It made me feel misunderstood and as if I had done something wrong. I still do not know why you left. You never wrote to me or returned. And now… now we see each other and things feel so…different.”
“Different how?” Sebastian whispered. “What has changed between us?”
“Everything,” she breathed. “I cannot close my eyes without thinking of your lips pressing into mine. I cannot even walk in my own garden without feeling anguished.”
“Anguished? Whyever should you feel that kind of torment? I know I behaved abominably by dashing away when I did, but surely, you had to know that I meant you no harm.”
“I feel anguished because that moment I spent alone with you in the garden was thrilling. And I am afraid that I will never have any experience quite like it ever again.” Absentmindedly, she rubbed her hands up and down her arms, as if she were trying to press away gooseflesh.
“We can have that moment again,” Sebastian promised. He took a step closer to her. “We can…”
“We cannot.” The words burst from her lips in a strangled cry. “My life has already been laid out for me, Sebastian. My parents…My betrothal…I cannot fight what is in front of me.”
She lifted both hands and massaged her temples. Sebastian watched as she made slow circles with her thumbs and clamped her eyes closed.
“My future has already been decided, Sebastian. I will spend the rest of my life by his side. I was lucky to escape Lord Birchwood for this afternoon only. Going forward, I cannot expect to be so blessed.” Her voice broke on her next word.
“Choices. I did not choose this life and yet, it is the one that I am destined to endure.”
“What if I gave you another option?” he asked gently, thinking of Colonel Learmonth with the evidence and feeling a twist of grief penetrate his soul as he watched Phoebe struggle.
Her eyelashes fluttered as her lids popped open. “What?”
“Break off your engagement with Lord Birchwood,” Sebastian said boldly. “It is what you need to do. I cannot stand by and watch you enter a life of misery.”
“Who says you will watch?” she countered, clearly flustered enough to respond with the first words that came to her mind. “And… you—how can you suggest something so directly? You know I cannot—”
“Yes, you can,” he interrupted. “You can break your engagement. You can tell Lord Birchwood that you will never give him your hand.”
At that, Sebastian reached out and grasped both of Phoebe’s hands with his own. He clung to her and stared into her beautiful blue eyes.
“Your vile fiancé is involved in highly unsavory dealings, and you ought to sever the connection for your own sake. Leave him now, Phoebe. Do it today. I do not want you mixed up in the scandals any more than is necessary.”
“What?” Phoebe’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. “What exactly are you accusing Lord Birchwood of?”
Sebastian shook his head forcefully. “I cannot tell you these things. It is not my place.”
“But if you will not give me specifics, how am I to make my case?” A hint of breathless, frantic energy threaded its way into her voice. “Do you expect me to march from this tent right now and tell Lord Birchwood that I will not honor the marriage agreement he and my father made?”
Sebastian tried to see the situation through her eyes, and he knew how absurd it all sounded. Without giving her a shred of evidence, he was asking Phoebe to do something that was practically impossible.
She could not break an engagement she had no hand in creating. Her father would not allow it. Lord Birchwood would cry foul.
Slowly, Sebastian traced his thumbs in a swirling pattern round and round Phoebe’s knuckles, then he said, “Phoebe, you deserve to know the truth. Your father has made a deal with the devil. He and Birchwood have mixed themselves up in a nasty bit of business, and they have managed to drag you into their messy affairs.”
Phoebe shook her head. “I do not understand.”
“Birchwood is not the man he pretends to be, nor is your father respectable, either. Your father sold you to Birchwood to save his own skin.”
He sold you to Birchwood.
Phoebe shuddered at the words. It was a truth that had occurred to her previously, but she had not been ready to hear it then and she certainly wasn’t prepared to acknowledge it now.
She realized that something must have occurred to warrant the urgency with which she was summoned back from the family’s country estate in Nantwich.
No sooner had she arrived in town than it was announced that her engagement to Lord Birchwood had already been arranged. Still, she assumed her parents simply feared she would become a spinster and had therefore promised her to any man who would have her.
She recalled the way her parents had spoken of her value…her worth. They had already admitted that they were willing to sacrifice her happiness to preserve their own. But somehow, hearing Sebastian say it made everything feel worse.
She looked away from Sebastian’s green eyes, so deep and earnest.
Her voice escaped her. For a long moment, she stood in the tent with Sebastian, wishing their conversation had diverted down a different avenue.
Why must this moment of privacy be so serious? Why could our reunion not be one that was worthy of the storybooks?
Phoebe dropped one of his hands and reached for her silver pendant. She rubbed it between her thumb and forefinger, seeking solace in the comfort of the warm metal.
At last, when she was ready to speak, Phoebe said, “I do not doubt you, Sebastian. In this instance, I am sure you are dealing honestly with me, but you must try to understand my feelings. No matter what my parents and Lord Birchwood have done, I must obey them. They have left me no choice but to do as they wish.”
“I am offering you a choice.”
“How?” she asked desperately because she wanted out of the engagement more than anything but saw no way through it.
She had heard Sebastian when he said moments ago that he would give her another option to explore, but she did not think he had done any such thing. She saw only one dismal future spread out before her, and it did not include an ounce of happiness.
She would never find bliss with Lord Birchwood and his horrid pride, or with her parents, either.
Sebastian opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Geneiveve burst into the tent.
“There you are! I wondered what was keeping you.” She glanced around at the empty tent, giving Phoebe a moment to pull her hand from Sebastian’s grasp and put some space between them. “I think the take-off is beginning, and we do not want to miss this. Come, come.”
“Lady Genevieve.” Sebastian bowed, his voice tight. “Lady Phoebe. I shall leave you both to it.”
Once Sebastian had left, Phoebe stared at the space he had vacated in stunned silence.
Genevieve grabbed Phoebe’s trembling hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You were gone so long that I did not know what to do.” She bit her lower lip. “I do hope you were not risking yourself or your reputation, Phoebe.”
“Nonsense,” she said quickly. Phoebe squeezed her eyes shut for a second and inhaled deeply.
Then, she opened her eyes and with renewed energy said, “Come, let us explore more tents before the hot air balloon lifts off. I thought I saw a fortune-teller. Perhaps we should see what suitor is on your cards.”
Genevieve snorted. “Too many to keep count. I simply enjoy dancing, but no suitor ever wants to stay long enough afterwards to actually speak with me. One day, though, I will find a man who will want to have lengthy enough conversations with me. At least, I hope so. I do not think many gentlemen appreciate a woman who likes the sound of her own voice.”
Phoebe laughed softly. “Oh, trust me, Genevieve, there will be such a man who will appreciate every part of you, especially your unique voice.”
“Well, I hope he does not take too long to find me. I have practically exhausted myself while looking for him.”
She grinned, looping her arm through Phoebe’s elbow, as she often did, and pulled her from the tent.
As they headed toward the spot where the balloon was set to launch shortly, Phoebe thought wistfully of Sebastian’s promise.
He would listen to her. He would appreciate her words. And, above all that, he would when the time was right.
Even offer her a choice.