that I had tried to run off to avoid marriage to him. Papa would be enraged to have the scandal made public. Anthony might take it into his head to risk his neck in another duel."
"I do not believe it would be all that bad," Phoebe said. "Surely Wylde would not tell tales. He is a gentleman, after all." She bit her lip, reminding herself silently that she could no longer be certain of that. The stark truth was that Gabriel had changed during the past eight years. Her illusions of him had received a severe blow the other night in Sussex.
"Wylde is no gentleman. Still, we must look on the bright side." Meredith picked up her embroidery. "I seriously doubt he will attempt to enter Society. He never had much taste for it, and he certainly does not have the money for it."
"His financial situation might have changed by now." Phoebe frowned thoughtfully. She knew very well that the income he was receiving off the sale of The Quest would not be enough to enable him to go about much in Society. But there was all that time he had spent in the South Seas. And Gabriel had an undeniable air of competence.
'"Everyone knows there was no fortune to go with the title he inherited," Meredith said crisply. "No, I think we are reasonably safe."
Phoebe thought of the expression on Gabriel's face as he had reluctantly freed her from his kiss. Safe was not a word that came to mind.
Deep inside she was afraid that he might make good on his vow to find her, return the manuscript, and accept the quest. And equally afraid that he might not.
Meredith eyed her sharply. "You are in an odd mood today, Phoebe. Is it because you arc thinking about how to deal with Kilbourne's offer?"
"I have already decided how to deal with it. Assuming he makes one."
Meredith sighed. "Surely after all this time you are not still hoping that Neil Baxter will miraculously return to England with a fortune and sweep you off your feet."
"I am well aware that Neil has been dead for over a year."
"Yes, I know, but you have not been able to accept that, have you?"
"Of course I have. But I fear his death will be on my conscience for the rest of my life," Phoebe admitted.
Meredith's eyes widened in alarm. "You must not say that. You had nothing to do with his death."
"We both know that if it had not been for me, Neil would never have gone off to the South Seas to seek his fortune. And if he had not gone to the islands, he would not have been killed."
"Dear heaven," Meredith whispered. "I had hoped you had put aside your foolish sense of responsibility. Neil chose his own destiny. You must not continue to blame yourself."
Phoebe smiled sadly. "It is easier said than done, Meredith. I think the fact that I considered him a friend, not a potential husband, is what makes it all so very difficult. He never accepted that all I wanted was friendship from him."
"I remember how he called himself your own true Lancelot and how he claimed he had dedicated himself to your service." There was strong disapproval in Meredith's voice. "He was rather attractive. I'll give you that much. But other than his looks, I do not know what you saw in him."
"He danced with me."
Meredith gazed at her in amazement. "Danced with you? What on earth do you mean by that?"
Phoebe smiled ruefully. "We both know that very few men ever ask me to dance. They fear I will make an awkward partner because of my bad leg."
"They do not wish to see you embarrassed on the dance floor," Meredith said firmly. "They refrain from asking you to partner them out of gentlemanly consideration."
"Rubbish. They don't want to humiliate themselves by being seen with a clumsy partner." Phoebe smiled reminiscently. "But Neil did not give a fig for his own appearance on the floor. He waltzed with me, Meredith. He actually waltzed with me. And he did not mind that I was a bit clumsy. As far as I was concerned, he really was my own true Lancelot."
The only way she would find any peace of mind, Phoebe knew, was if she found
"I do not believe it would be all that bad," Phoebe said. "Surely Wylde would not tell tales. He is a gentleman, after all." She bit her lip, reminding herself silently that she could no longer be certain of that. The stark truth was that Gabriel had changed during the past eight years. Her illusions of him had received a severe blow the other night in Sussex.
"Wylde is no gentleman. Still, we must look on the bright side." Meredith picked up her embroidery. "I seriously doubt he will attempt to enter Society. He never had much taste for it, and he certainly does not have the money for it."
"His financial situation might have changed by now." Phoebe frowned thoughtfully. She knew very well that the income he was receiving off the sale of The Quest would not be enough to enable him to go about much in Society. But there was all that time he had spent in the South Seas. And Gabriel had an undeniable air of competence.
'"Everyone knows there was no fortune to go with the title he inherited," Meredith said crisply. "No, I think we are reasonably safe."
Phoebe thought of the expression on Gabriel's face as he had reluctantly freed her from his kiss. Safe was not a word that came to mind.
Deep inside she was afraid that he might make good on his vow to find her, return the manuscript, and accept the quest. And equally afraid that he might not.
Meredith eyed her sharply. "You are in an odd mood today, Phoebe. Is it because you arc thinking about how to deal with Kilbourne's offer?"
"I have already decided how to deal with it. Assuming he makes one."
Meredith sighed. "Surely after all this time you are not still hoping that Neil Baxter will miraculously return to England with a fortune and sweep you off your feet."
"I am well aware that Neil has been dead for over a year."
"Yes, I know, but you have not been able to accept that, have you?"
"Of course I have. But I fear his death will be on my conscience for the rest of my life," Phoebe admitted.
Meredith's eyes widened in alarm. "You must not say that. You had nothing to do with his death."
"We both know that if it had not been for me, Neil would never have gone off to the South Seas to seek his fortune. And if he had not gone to the islands, he would not have been killed."
"Dear heaven," Meredith whispered. "I had hoped you had put aside your foolish sense of responsibility. Neil chose his own destiny. You must not continue to blame yourself."
Phoebe smiled sadly. "It is easier said than done, Meredith. I think the fact that I considered him a friend, not a potential husband, is what makes it all so very difficult. He never accepted that all I wanted was friendship from him."
"I remember how he called himself your own true Lancelot and how he claimed he had dedicated himself to your service." There was strong disapproval in Meredith's voice. "He was rather attractive. I'll give you that much. But other than his looks, I do not know what you saw in him."
"He danced with me."
Meredith gazed at her in amazement. "Danced with you? What on earth do you mean by that?"
Phoebe smiled ruefully. "We both know that very few men ever ask me to dance. They fear I will make an awkward partner because of my bad leg."
"They do not wish to see you embarrassed on the dance floor," Meredith said firmly. "They refrain from asking you to partner them out of gentlemanly consideration."
"Rubbish. They don't want to humiliate themselves by being seen with a clumsy partner." Phoebe smiled reminiscently. "But Neil did not give a fig for his own appearance on the floor. He waltzed with me, Meredith. He actually waltzed with me. And he did not mind that I was a bit clumsy. As far as I was concerned, he really was my own true Lancelot."
The only way she would find any peace of mind, Phoebe knew, was if she found
Similar Books
Tutored
Allison Whittenberg
Kiss the Girl
Susan Sey
Windup Stories
Paolo Bacigalupi
Duffel Bags And Drownings
Dorothy Howell
77 Shadow Street
Dean Koontz
Song of the Fireflies
J. A. Redmerski
Cowboy For Hire
Alice Duncan
Mother Daughter Me
Katie Hafner
Stranded!
Pepper Pace