Her vision suddenly blurred, and she automatically hugged him back. His greeting may have been gruffâand rather insulting to poor Grandfatherâbut it had been a long time since anyone had embraced her with such genuine enthusiasm. She clung to him, feeling a rush of gratitude.
Aunt Georgie's soft touch on her shoulder brought Phoebe back to an awareness of her surroundings. Blushing, she drew back, giving her uncle a shy smile. His eyes gleamed with a suspicious brightness and he cleared his throat with a loud cough.
“That's enough of that nonsense, miss,” he exclaimed. “You say hello to your cousins. We'll have a comfortable chat later, after you've had a rest. You look done to a cow's thumb, which is not to be wondered after all you've been through.”
She gave him a wry smile before turning to meet her other relatives.
“Phoebe,” said Aunt Georgie, “this is my nephew, the Marquess of Silverton, and his wife, Lady Silverton.”
She stared up at the awe-inspiring couple. They were both tall and graceful, and dressed, as even she could tell, in the height of fashion. Although they both regarded her kindly, never had she felt more like an awkward country bumpkin.
“Lady Silverton,” she managed, “I'm very happy to meet you.”
The tall woman gave her a welcoming smile and took her hand. “Dear Phoebe, we don't stand on formality when amongst ourselves. You must call me Meredith. And don't be afraid to call my husband by his given name, which is Stephen.” She threw him a laughing glance. “Or Silverton, if that's more comfortable for you. He can be rather intimidating, and even I sometimes have to fight the urge to curtsy before him.”
Lord Silverton made a scoffing sound, but Phoebe could well believe it. She eyed him, wondering how she could ever be comfortable in the company of someone so magnificent. But then he smiled, and the effect was dazzling. When he smiled, Lord Silverton was quite the most handsome man she had ever met.
Except for Lord Merritt, of course, who was at this moment standing back from their little circle, looking irritated, to be exact.
Before she could puzzle that out, Silverton took her hand and dropped a brief kiss on it. The familiarity of it made her blush, but she supposed she had better get used to it since men in London seemed rather fond of the habit.
“My wife has been longing to meet you,” he said in a deep voice that echoed Lord Merritt's tones. The family resemblance between the two men struck her anew. “Like you, she is a country woman, and misses that life very much. She's eager to speak with you about the Christmas holidays, and entreat you to spend time with us and our children at Belfield Abbey, our estate in Kent.”
“I . . . I would like to speak with her about that very much,” Phoebe stammered, not sure what to say. She'd barely met these people and already they were issuing Christmas invitations. Since Christmas was not something Quakers generally celebrated, she had little idea what was involved.
Lord Merritt pointedly cleared his throat, and Phoebe jerked her gaze to him. Had she done something wrong? She looked back at Lord Silverton, who was clearly waiting for an answer.
“Forgive meâ” Phoebe cast about for an appropriate form of address, and then settled on one that seemed most appropriate for the circumstances. “âCousin Stephen. Your offer is most generous, but my plans are not yet fixed, other than hoping to spend time with my aunt and uncle. As Lord Merritt will tell youâ”
“Phoebe,” Lord Merritt interrupted, “I told you to stop calling me that. If you can bring yourself to use Silverton's first name, then I should think you'd be able to use mine, too. It's Lucas, by the way, in case you've forgotten it.”
Phoebe gaped at him. She had known him only a short time, but despite his sometimes imperious manner, he had treated her as carefully as a piece of fragile stemware. But now he not only sounded angry, he looked it. His mouth had thinned into a hard line and his eyes had transformed to a cold, silvery gray.
But he was not glaring at her. The target of his ire was Lord Silverton.
“She might be more inclined to do that if you didn't bark at her as if you're her commanding officer,” the marquess replied in a tone that came perilously close to a sneer.
In a flash, the atmosphere in the room grew tense as hostility swirled between the two men. Meredith gave a disgusted snort and Aunt Georgie threw her husband a long-suffering, pleading look.
Uncle Arthur took the hint. “That will be quite enough of that nonsense. You should both have the manners not to act like ruffians in front of your new cousin. And,” he said, scowling fiercely at both men, “in front of my wife.”
Meredith elbowed her husband. “And in front of
your
wife,” she muttered.
Both men had the grace to look embarrassed.
“Forgive me, Aunt Georgie,” said Lord Silverton with a little bow.
Lord Merrittâ
Lucas
âsimply smiled at his aunt and shrugged his big shoulders. After narrowing her eyes at him, the older woman murmured something to Meredith, who crossed to a corner of the room and tugged on an ornate bellpull. The tension in the room gradually eased as everyone moved to a grouping of pretty blue and yellow silk chairs. Phoebe stood transfixed, still stunned by the snarling little interlude, but shook herself free of it when Lucas came up to her.
“Did I do something wrong?” she whispered anxiously.
He sighed. “Of course not, my dear girl. It's just some old Stanton history, best forgotten. Come sit down. Meredith has rung for tea, and I'm sure you could use a cup.”
She peered at him, startled both by the affectionate term and the bleak glance he cast in Silverton's direction. Obviously, the old history had
not
been forgottenâat least not by the two cousinsâand she could not help but be curious. For now, though, it seemed as if everyone had decided to ignore the incident, so she had no choice but to follow suit.
Aunt Georgie, seated on the luxuriously stuffed yellow sofa, patted the space next to her in invitation. Phoebe gingerly lowered herself, painfully aware of the delicate and expensive silk fabric. Much as she had in the carriage, she had to resist the temptation to stroke it. She knew it would feel cool and smoothly textured beneath her fingers, and she mentally winced with guilt at what her brother or Mrs. Tanner might think to see her in such rich surroundings.
Actually, she knew exactly what George would say, and none of it would be good.
“Phoebe,” her aunt said, “tell us about your journey. You must have been very nervous to leave your family and embark on such a voyage.”
“Damned irregular,” muttered Uncle Arthur, and his wife cast him a warning glance. The old man subsided into his chair, but that didn't stop him from scowling when Phoebe related the difficulties of the passage and how so many had fallen sick.
“Oh, dear,” exclaimed Meredith. “There's nothing worse than nausea for weeks on end. I suffered that for several months earlier this year when I was with child. And to be trapped for weeks on a ship with no respite . . .” She shuddered. “How awful.”
Phoebe smiled, already drawn to her cousin's warmth and sympathetic nature. “I was fortunate not to succumb until a week before we arrived in England. The worst was watching the children fall ill. We worried that several would not survive the voyage.”
Everyone made the appropriate noises of concern, and the conversation continued until the butler and a footman arrived with a tea service. That seemed to be her uncle's cue to rise to his feet.
“Well,” he said in a hearty voice, “I expect you ladies will want to talk about my new niece's move to Stanton House, as well as shopping and all the other silly details you'll need to decide upon for her coming-out.”
Phoebe's anxiety spiked. “We will?” Her voice cracked on a high note.
Lucas gave her an encouraging smile. “Don't worry, Phoebe. You're in good hands with Aunt Georgie and Meredith. Just let them take care of everything. Life will be much easier if you do, I promise.”
“But . . . but,” she spluttered.
“Capital,” boomed Uncle Arthur. “I think the lads and I should repair to my library for a brandy. You ladies certainly won't want us underfoot while you perfect your battle plans.”
Phoebe's alarm turned to panic when Lucas stood as well. She had no desire to talk about clothes or her move or her coming-out, nor did she feel ready to face any Stanton, no matter how kind, without Lucas there to lend support. She had barely made up her mind to stay in London, much less make such detailed plans.
“Lucas, I do not think . . .” Well, she did not know what to think, and her features must have shown it.
His voice gentled. “It's all right, Phoebe. I need to run a few errands, and then I'll return to take you home.” He looked at his aunt. “In about an hour, shall we say?”
“No need for you to leave,” said his uncle. “The girl obviously doesn't want you to go, either.”
That brought a hot blush to Phoebe's cheeks. She was not a child, and she had better stop clinging to Lucas as if she were.
Uncle Arthur gestured to Lucas. “Why don't you join us in the library? It's been weeks since you and Silverton saw each other, what with the time you've been spending down in Kent at the manor.”
Lucas gave his uncle a polite bow. “Forgive me, sir, but I have an appointment I must attend. Another time, I promise.”
His gaze turned wary and slid over to Lord Silverton, who looked down his nose at Lucas in a haughty manner. Just like that, the tension that had gripped the room earlier returned. Aunt Georgie let out a tiny sigh.
“If that's the case,” the marquess said in a cold voice, “you needn't trouble yourself to return. Meredith and I will escort Phoebe home.”
Lucas studied his cousin. Even though he barely moved, a noticeable change came over him. Suddenly, he looked every inch the soldier, and a dangerous one at that. He did not need a uniform or a rifle for Phoebe to recognize the ruthless nature lurking beneath the polished exterior.
“Phoebe is my responsibility,” he said. “I will return for her in an hour and take her home.”
“Perhaps I can engage a hackney for my return to Mrs. Poole's house,” Phoebe ventured. “I do not want to cause any inconvenience.”
“It's no inconvenience,” Lucas said in a hard voice. “And you will remain here until I return to pick you up. Do you understand ?”
Speechless, she stared at him.
“There's no need to go ordering your poor cousin about like she's some raw recruit,” Uncle Arthur barked. “You'll frighten her.”
Phoebe sighed. Her relatives must think her a poor dab of a girl, indeed. Not that she liked the way Lucas snarled at her, but she was not ready to hide under the sofa just yet.
Lucas raised his eyebrows in a skeptical arch. “Did I frighten you?”
“No. I simply do not wish to inconvenience you.”
Lord Silverton parted his lips in something that only remotely resembled a smile. “So, it's settled then.
We'll
take Phoebe home and
you
can run along to your important appointment.”
Lucas hissed out a breath, and Phoebe almost choked on the realization that the two men were staring at each other with hatred. It swirled so thickly around them that it almost made her ill, as did the notion they were using her as a means to express it.
“Oh, for God's sake,” Meredith exclaimed. She got up and dodged around the tea table, inserting herself between the two men. “Lucas,” she said, turning her back on her husband, “your sense of responsibility toward Phoebe is commendable, but you can't be so selfish as to keep her all to yourself.” She sounded cheerful, but no one in the room could miss the warning in her voice. “We'll take Phoebe home when she's ready to go, and you can call on her later to finalize the arrangements for her move to Stanton House.”
As tall as Meredith was, Lucas still loomed over her, looking very intimidating. But Meredith simply stared up into his face, a little smile playing around her lips.
After a tense moment, he let out a grudging laugh. Much to Phoebe's surprise, he bent to drop a quick kiss on Meredith's cheek. Lord Silverton's eyes narrowed but he remained silent.
“I stand corrected. Forgive me for being such a selfish brute.” He cast a hard glance at Lord Silverton. “This woman is too good for you. I hope you know that.”
“I do,” his cousin replied. “But that's hardly any of your business.”
Meredith turned to her husband and began to scold him in a quiet but no less vehement tone.
“Phoebe,” Lucas said as he came to make his farewells, “I'll see you tonight.”
She simply nodded, too distressed to say anything. Lucas bowed his good-byes and left the room. A few moments later, the other men repaired to the library, leaving Phoebe, Meredith, and Aunt Georgie to sit in pensive silence.