Chapter Eighteen

True to his word, James called on Phoebe every day for a week—sometimes twice. Almost immediately he’d charmed Mrs. Condon and Elizabeth, and as such he was present for dinner every night. The situation irked Phoebe to no end. She didn’t want to be taken in by him again. She understood the concern of her servants, who in reality had become the dearest of friends, but she remained firm in her resolve to keep James at an arm’s length. To open her heart and be crushed again… She’d never survive it a second time.

*          *          *

Winning Phoebe was proving considerably more difficult than James had anticipated. Every day he took her flowers and trinkets. He was solicitous and honest to a fault, but he seemed to be gaining no ground in returning to her good graces. She received his attentions well enough, allowed him to kiss her hand when he left each evening, but the ice façade the ton chastised her for refused to crack. If not for the tears and outrage she’d expressed when he’d first found her, he might truly believe she no longer cared for him.

At odds with himself and the situation as a whole, he stalked out of the boarding house, and turned toward the stables. Perhaps taking Sam out for a hard ride would help clear his head. Give him some fresh perspective or new ideas.

An unmarked coach pulled by a team of bay horses rattled down the road, kicking up a light cloud of dust. James hesitated, waiting for it to pass, before striding purposefully across the street.

“Ho, Colonel!” a familiar voice called.

A grin instantly split James’s face as he spun around. “Collins!” He strode over to the coach as the other man stepped down. They quickly clasped hands in a hearty handshake. “Am I ever glad to see you.”

“Sarah and I came as soon as we received your message.”

“Where is Sarah?” James asked, waiting with Nick as the driver unloaded two trunks.

Nick jerked a thumb back down the road. “Dropped her off to visit with Lady Phoebe. I told her I’d come ahead to find you and secure us a room.” He grinned. “We can both go back to fetch her later.”

James pointed to the boarding house. “There is plenty of room here with Mrs. Beaman. The bedding is clean and her cooking is good.”

“You won’t hear any complaints from me,” Nick said with a grin. “And my wife is just happy to have a trip away from home that doesn’t involve a London hospital.”

“I can understand why.”

“How are things between you and Phoebe,” Nick asked quietly, he was obviously concerned. “When I received your letter I had hoped it would be news that you’d eloped, not a plea for help.”

James washed a palm over his face. “Not well. I tell you, Collins, I’m finding that I know absolutely nothing about wooing women.”

Nick laughed heartily. “You’re prowess when it comes to women is legendary, James.”

“In bedding likeminded widows and whores perhaps.” He shook his head. Normally James seduced women that wanted to be lured in and bedded for a single night of mutual pleasure. He never went back to the same woman twice and avoided romantic attachments at all cost. “This is different. This has nothing to do with my abilities to please women. As it stands, I cannot convince the woman carrying my child that she’d be happier married to me than giving our babe away to complete strangers.”

Nick clapped him on the shoulder. “Not to worry, James, she’ll come around. What you need is to make a grand romantic gesture.”

“A grand romantic gesture?” James lifted a skeptical brow. “What do you suggest?”

*          *          *

“I am so happy you’re here!” Phoebe embraced Sarah for the third time since her friend had knocked on the door. They sat side by side on the sofa, waiting for Mrs. Condon to bring tea and cookies.

“I couldn’t stay away.” Sarah grinned, eyes twinkling. “Nick is finally well enough for travel, and we were both ready for a refreshing holiday.” She hesitated. “I must be honest, however, part of the reason we came now is because Colonel Witherspoon asked for help.”

Phoebe eased away from her friend. “Help? You mean help convincing me to marry him?”

“Yes.”

Betrayal instantly soured Phoebe’s mood. “You came here for James Witherspoon? Whose side are you on?”

“Yours, Phoebe.” Sarah reached for her hand.

Phoebe snatched away. “You don’t understand, Sarah!” She stood, stalking to the other side of the room. “No one understands. I don’t want to forgive him or marry him. I want him to go away and never come back.”

“If you really wanted Colonel Witherspoon to leave, all you’d need do is send word to Edward.” Sarah hesitated, speaking quietly, her all too knowing eyes slicing through Phoebe. “Have you sent word to Edward?”

“No.”

“I think that may be because deep down you do want the colonel to be near you.”

Phoebe crossed her arms stubbornly. “You don’t understand, Sarah. He can’t be trusted.”

“Because of the history between your families?”

“No. It has nothing to do with Patrick’s death or any other petty quibbles.” She sighed, facing the window, lost in bittersweet memories. “Last spring James was wonderful, and I honestly believed the most notorious man in Britain had reformed for me.” She laughed, the sound self-deprecating and ironic even to her ears. She flipped sad eyes to Sarah. “How completely vain.”

Expression soft, Sarah met her gaze with compelling eyes. “Falling in love isn’t vain, Phoebe.”

“Love?” Phoebe tested the word. It tasted bitter on her tongue. “Is that what it was?” She shook her head, anger and hurt swirling like ash in her belly. “I’m not so sure. At the time I thought so. He was kind and attentive. Humble, even. I got so caught up in the romance of it all. It never occurred to me that he wouldn’t propose or ask me to elope with him. Instead…” She lifted her shoulders in a helpless shrug, searching for the right words. “He panicked. He panicked and left without another word or letter.”

“But he’s back, Phoebe, and he wants to be with you.”

“He’s back and playing the same love struck swain he did months ago.” Phoebe gulped as James’s easy grin flashed through her mind. It would be so easy to fall for his charms again. To pretend he’d perceived his grave error in turning from her once before, but… “What if he panics again after a week or two?” She didn’t wait for Sarah to answer. “I can’t risk my future for a man that can’t maintain his romantic interest for more than a week. All I have hangs by a thread. I’ve already alienated my brother beyond repair, and if I don’t tread lightly he’ll turn me out.”

Sarah was silent for a long moment. “I do understand what you’re saying, Phoebe, but I fear you’re making decisions that you’ll regret for the rest of your life. I know you, Phoebe, better than you know yourself, and I know the last thing you want is to lose your baby."

Phoebe blinked back tears, striving to remain resolute in the course that had been set. It would be best for everyone if she simply gave the child up… the babe most of all.

“Consider this,” Sarah continued in a gentle tone, “last spring everything happened so fast between you and Colonel Witherspoon. Too fast. It was such a whirlwind that you never even told me about it. Has it occurred to you that he simply needed more time to sort through his feelings?”

Frustrated, Phoebe paced across the room, her hands beginning to shake as turbulent emotions coursed through her. Sarah’s words had merit, but Phoebe still couldn’t shake the awful sense that James had used her. “I don’t know what to believe, Sarah. I certainly can’t trust him again.” She sighed, searching for the words to put her turbulent emotions into perspective for Sarah. “James only came back because I am with child and he feels an obligation.”

“Oh, dear,” Sarah muttered suddenly, tone completely changed.

Alarmed, Phoebe turned back to her friend. “What is it?”

“Your brother is coming up the walk.”

Cold panic flushed through Phoebe’s veins. She whipped to the window. “Oh, no.” Sure enough, Edward rode up the small drive on the back of his favorite chestnut gelding. “Do you think he knows about James?”

Sarah joined her at the window. “I don’t know, but James and Nicholas are due here any minute.”

“You need to leave,” Phoebe said quickly. “Go through the backdoor and meet James and Nicholas on the road. If Edward discovers…” Her words trailed off as genuine horror gripped her. “Lord, no,” she whispered. Helplessly she stared through the glass as James rounded the hedge at the end of the small dirt drive at the same moment Edward swung off his horse.

The men froze simultaneously.

After a few painfully long seconds, Edward threw down his reins and stalked forward with shoulders tensed and fists clenched.