Chapter 5
Before Phoebe moved to sit on the chair, she spotted her discarded gossip column half hidden under the rhododendron.
She picked it up, then took a seat. Slade sat to her right.
She shifted to face him. His tall, broad-shouldered torso was imposing, causing her to swallow hard as her eyes rose to meet his sharp emerald ones.
“Egan is busy learning the Eileanach business. He will eventually take over the running of things. Father and Mother are not fond of the fact that I am in England. They’d much rather I take a husband and settle down in the Highlands, preferably close to Eileanach Castle where they can lord over my life,” she said.
The corners of Slade’s lip twitched up, in what seemed like mirth and silent understanding. “Now I start to see why you are here. Perhaps your parents’ reach to lording over your life, as you put it, doesn’t extend to Sutton Coldfield.”
A laugh left Phoebe’s mouth, lightening her insides. “Yes. That certainly is an added attraction to my being here,” she said.
Her posture relaxed. Perhaps that old rapport was returning after all.
“And how is your family?” she said.
A shadow crossed his fine features. Phoebe sensed Slade’s hesitation in answering her question.
He didn’t get along with his father, Chisolm, or brother, Lachlan and because of that Slade had revealed years ago he’d never gotten use to calling Chisolm “father.” His mother had died when Slade was a wee lad, but Phoebe never had the courage to ask what had happened.
Weariness flickered in Slade’s eyes. “They are doing well enough, from what Lachlan reports in his missives to me. Both Chisolm and Lachlan are demanding I return to Garraidh Castle. But that’s not so easy when one holds a commission in the Royal Scots Greys,” he said.
“Is that why you are at the general’s residence? Military business?” Phoebe asked, but then regret contracted her midriff. She was fishing for information on Bolingbroke, and she hated it had to be done through Slade.
His green eyes sharpened at her question.
She imagined the resulting flutter in her belly was what a butterfly felt like under the inspecting gaze of a natural philosopher.
Slade had never provoked this response from her before.
But then again, she’d never worked as a spy while in his presence before, either.
She affected an air of insouciance she didn’t feel.
“I am attempting to arrange an arms contract betwixt the general and Hortons,” he said.
Was this one of the unsanctioned businesses the general was involved in? An arms contract didn’t sound illegal unless the general was using military funds to buy personal weapons. Or using such weapons for unavowed attacks against the rebels. But surely Slade wouldn’t be a part of that, would he?
Phoebe tilted her head, questioningly. “Hortons?”
“They’re a gunsmith company out of Birmingham, in which I hold an ownership stake,” he said.
It appeared Slade was involved in business ventures outside of the Royal Scots Greys and Garraidh Castle, his family seat.
“I assume as a general, Bolingbroke is authorized to enter into arms contracts on behalf of the English military?” Phoebe asked, aware that her question was probing. But she’d had to ask the question. Trust your instincts, Falcon had said.
Slade sent her one of those piercing gazes of his.
“At present, the general’s interest is purely personal,” he said.
At least he’d answered her question and not given her any of that male superiority nonsense about her questions being unsuitable for a gently bred young woman.
Her eyes took in his expression as it changed.
His sleek, well-formed brows climbed. A frown line formed between them, and his nostrils flared slightly at the end of a long, well-shaped nose.
“Your interest in my dealings with the general is as puzzling to me as when Britain decided to form an alliance with Russia.”
Phoebe lowered her gaze, tapping her chin with her pointing finger. Blast! She feigned a rueful look. “Apparently, my attempts at polite conversations were not entirely polite. I beg your pardon.”
His slow smile and study of her features were more than she was comfortable with. “The last time you were this evasive was when I caught you and Alex all those years ago stealing the bull instead of the heifer to teach yourselves how to milk the animal,” he said, with a chuckle.
A sharp pang constricted her chest at mention of Alex.
Yet, recalling the bull incident from when she was nine years old pulled a soft chuckle from her throat.
Especially recalling that silly rhyme Alex used to hum when in a particularly devious mood.
Queen, Queen Caroline washed her hair in turpentine, turpentine to make it shine. Queen, Queen Caroline.
That weekend, fifteen years ago, Egan and Slade were at Eileanach Castle, on a break from fostering. And she and Alex had been wagering sugar cakes on who would be faster at milking the animal when Slade had caught them sneaking around behind the keep.
“Imagine our surprise when we attempted to milk the bull and realized the animal’s body parts weren’t quite right,” she said.
But despite her light tone, her gaze faltered, recalling her brother’s ruddy little face. After all these years, she still missed him fiercely.
“I shouldn’t have mentioned Alex,” he said, his tone faint and regretful.
Phoebe managed a smile as she shook her head in a dismissive manner.
“Of course you should. You were his dear friend,” she said, then continued.
“No two siblings ever plotted and schemed like Alex and me. I lost count of how many times we landed ourselves in hot water with our father. And you were there for many of them the year of Alex’s accident.
You even became our conspirator-in-arms on a few occasions if I remember correctly. ”
His expression was solemn, yet his eyes twinkled.
“I had to help you two with the bull. But afterwards, I couldn’t very well tell anyone, because if your father found out, he’d no doubt think me a bad influence and forbid me from spending time at Eileanach.
And so, your conspirator-in-arms was born. ”
Her heartbeat quickened, and warmth started in her chest and suffused the entire length of her body. “You came to our aid like a knight in shining armor after we purloined two bags of boiled sweets. And then there was that time when you saved my life.”
Warmth and fondness brightened his expression. “I seem to have fallen into a pattern then, didn’t I?” He chuckled good naturedly, then continued. “That time involving the boiled sweets, we all shared in the spoils. You loved sweets back then.”
Desserts had been, and still remained, one of her weaknesses.
He considered her for a second, then startled her when he reached out and gently touched her shoulder. “I hope you are recovered from earlier—”
She gasped at the contact and sprang from her seat.
Her heart lurched and the gossip column fell.
He immediately stood up, perhaps out of courteousness, and stepped back, his body momentarily freezing in alarm.
Regret sank into her belly. She’d panicked and overreacted again.
But this is Slade. He’s a friend, she reminded herself a second time.
It seemed the knowledge didn’t dictate her body’s instinct, prey backing away from its perceived predator.
Mortification at her action burned her face. Embarrassment and shame made her want to run.
“Are you well? Are you still unsettled by the footman’s shooting?” he asked, eyebrows drawing together in concern.
“I suppose I am,” she lied. “I just realized I need to return to my duties. Lady Bolingbroke will be quite put out at my long absence.”
He bent down, retrieved the gossip column, folded it, and held it out to her. “Of course. I’ve delayed you long enough.” His expression had become inscrutable, no doubt sensing her change in countenance. He must think her abominably rude. But there was no way she could explain her odd behavior.
She took the gossip column from him. “It was quite lovely seeing you again after such a long time,” she said, interjecting a lightness into her voice she didn’t feel.
“And you. I hope we can see each other again soon,” he said, executing an immaculate bow.
She turned and broke into a run. Perhaps if she ran fast enough, it would wipe her awkward behavior from her memory, and his.