Swept Away (22 page)

“I know.” Phoebe smiled at him. “I think that's very good of you, Geoffrey.”

Geoffrey looked a trifle embarrassed. “Now, now.” He cleared his throat. “About Julia…”

“Yes, of course. I'm sorry. Sometimes I am so scatterbrained. We must decide what to do about Julia.”

“I don't know that there is anything we
can
do.”

“I've been thinking and thinking about it, for hours. I can't help but think that Julia must be sending out a plea for my help.”

“Oh. Sending her the trunk, you mean? And that silly box?”

“No. I shall do that, of course. But I think what she wants is for me to go to her.”

“Eh? Now, dash it, I didn't see anything in that note about
that!
”

“I think it was a hidden message. She and I once read a book where the heroine sent a letter to her fiancé—under duress, of course—saying that she had decided not to marry him. But she made reference in the letter to a certain statue of Ares, where she and he used to meet. Only he knew, you see, that they had never met at any statue, and he guessed from her using Ares that she was in need of a champion, his being the god of war and all.”

“Did he?” Geoffrey looked much struck by this idea. “I would never have figured that out from her talking about one of those plaguey Greek fellows. Never cared much for Greek studies, you see. They always seemed a dashed bunch of loose screws—always running about becoming swans or bulls or such, and turning girls into trees.”

Even in the midst of her turmoil, Phoebe could not help but giggle. “No. You are perfectly right. But the thing is, I think Julia was trying to send me that sort of message.”

“You think she's in need of a champion?” he asked doubtfully.

“I don't know. In need of help. I mean, there isn't any special meaning about that box that I can think of, except for its being so odd. I think she was hoping that I would realize that something was wrong. And indeed I do! I think something must be terribly wrong, and the only thing I can think of to do is to go to her. I will travel to Stonehaven. They can scarcely turn me away. After all, it would look quite odd not to let a future bride have the comfort and support of her relatives. Don't you think?”

“Yes. If they did turn you away, it would be obvious that they were holding Julia against her will. Do you think they are? I must say, it doesn't seem like something Stonehaven would do. Sounds more like one of those Greek chaps.”

“I'm not sure. But I do think that she needs me. So I must go to her.”

“But you can't go running up there by yourself,” Geoffrey protested.

Phoebe turned limpid blue eyes upon him, and it was then that Geoffrey saw that he had been neatly caught. “Oh. Yes, I see. You're asking me to escort you.”

“Would you, Geoffrey?” Phoebe leaned closer, clasping her hands together eagerly. “It would be so good of you. I know I really have no right to call on you, but I could think of no one else. All my family is in Northumberland, except for my brother Robert, but even he lives too far away. I would have to write him, and then he would have to come here and, knowing Robert, he would have to think about it, and well, it would take days. I need to go tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow!” Geoffrey exclaimed. “No, now, really, Phoebe, you can't have thought. You can't get packed and leave by tomorrow morning.”

“I can try. Maybe we can't be ready to leave in the morning, but surely by noon we could be gone. Buckinghamshire isn't far away. We could arrive by evening, don't you think?”

“I don't know. Never been there.” Geoffrey was notorious for rarely leaving London. It was said that it took a death in the family to make him travel—and even then, that it had better be a close relative.

“I have been there a few times with Selby, and it was only a day's travel, and that was traveling from Greenwood.”

“Mmm. I daresay you're right. Still, I'm not sure that from now until noon tomorrow is enough time to prepare oneself for the journey.”

“Certainly,” Phoebe responded stoutly. “Your valet will pack all your things, won't he?”

“Of course.” Geoffrey looked astounded that anyone could think otherwise. “Still, there are other things that need to be done. Must toddle to the bank to get some money, I should think. Can't go somewhere without a bit of ready, you know.”

“Oh, Geoffrey!” Phoebe smiled at him, her face glowing. “Does that mean you'll escort me to Stonehaven?”

Geoffrey looked a trifle taken aback, then responded in a faintly surprised voice, “Yes, I guess it does.”

“Thank you!” Phoebe reached out impulsively and took his hand. “You are so good. I knew I could count on you.”

“Of course, of course. Your servant, you know that.” He paused, then said a little reluctantly, “Well, I suppose I better go home and start getting things in order.”

Phoebe almost had to laugh at his less-than-eager expression. She strongly suspected that Geoffrey's valet would be the one doing all the work, so she could not feel too sorry for Geoffrey. However, she did appreciate his escorting her to Buckinghamshire; she was not sure she would have been brave enough to go alone. So she walked him to the door, her hand linked through his arm, assuring him of how much she depended on him and how kind he was. By the time they reached the front door, he seemed to be in good spirits again and rather proud of himself for rescuing a damsel in distress.

He took his leave of her with his usual elegant bow, and Phoebe turned to the daunting task of getting herself, a child and his nurse packed and ready to go by the following morning.

 

Julia, worn out by the excitement of the last few days, slept late the following morning. She found the clothes she had worn the day before freshly cleaned and laid out for her. Even the little rip in the hem of her dress had been neatly mended. She took off the nightgown Lady Stonehaven had lent her—absurdly short on her, ending at midcalf—and put back on her clothes. Once she had her hair brushed and pinned up, she at least looked presentable, she thought, though she did spare a single wistful thought for the trunk of clothes she had written Phoebe to send.

She went downstairs, determined to look at the suicide note that Deverel claimed he had. That, she reminded herself sternly, was the only thing she was here for. She must forget all this nonsense about marrying that Stonehaven kept putting forth.

However, when she went into the dining room, she found only Stonehaven's mother sitting at the table. The older woman smiled happily when she saw her. “There you are, my dear. Do sit down. Would you like some eggs and ham? Tea?” She gestured toward the footman standing beside the sideboard. “Unfortunately, you have missed Deverel. He's gone to ride over the estate with the manager, since it's been over a month since he was here. He's very conscientious about such things. But I'm afraid it means that you are stuck with my company this morning.”

“I couldn't think of better company,” Julia replied. She did truly enjoy his mother; however, she felt deflated by the news that Deverel was not there. She was merely disappointed, she knew, that she would not get to look at the note immediately.

“How kind of you to say so—though I don't fool myself that spending the morning with an old lady is of more interest to you than being with a good-looking young man.” She smiled. “Did you sleep well?”

“Oh, yes.” Julia had eaten a hearty meal, then taken a long, soaking bath, and fallen into bed earlier than she could remember doing in years. It surprised her a little, now that she thought about it, that she had fallen asleep so easily in the heart of her enemy's territory. She supposed it was a testimony to how tired she had been. “Thank you for having my clothes cleaned while I was asleep.”

“I only wish I could have lent you something to wear. But I knew that anything in my closet would be far too large and absurdly short. However, I have my dresser hunting through the wardrobe for a dress that has a long hem that she could lower. Then it would only require taking it in on the sides, and you would be able to wear it.”

“You are too kind. I wrote to my sister-in-law, asking her to send some of my clothes.” Color rose in her cheeks. “I am sure you must wonder how I could manage to arrive here in such a state—no clothes, no abigail, not even a nightgown.”

“It is a trifle odd,” Lady Stonehaven admitted. “And I would be less than human if I were not curious. However, I expect if you want me to know, you shall tell me, and if not—well, we are all entitled to our little secrets, aren't we? How awful it would be if we had to explain everything to everyone.”

“But you must think me a—an abandoned creature.”

“Don't be nonsensical. Deverel would never bring home an abandoned creature as his future bride. Now…I thought I could show you around the house, if you'd like.”

“Certainly. That sounds very nice.”

And it was. Lady Stonehaven, who insisted that Julia call her Teresa, was a charming companion, and knowledgeable about both the house and the people who had lived there. She told amusing anecdotes about many of the rooms they went through, and the marks of her good taste were evident everywhere. Though none of the rooms were as cozy as her own sitting room, all of them were quite pleasant, some elegant and others more casual, some left in the furnishings of an earlier time period and others freshly up-to-date. They ended the tour in Lady Stonehaven's workroom.

The twining of leaves around the window in her bedroom had not prepared Julia for the scope and excellence of the older woman's art. She stood in awe for a few minutes, examining the detailed mural of an Athens scene that decorated one wall of the studio. This woman was no mere dabbler in painting, as many gentlewomen were; she was truly an artist.

“These are wonderful!” she exclaimed, trailing slowly around the room and looking at the canvases propped up against the wall.

“Do you like them? Truly?” Lady Stonehaven seemed as delighted as a child.

“Oh, yes.”

“Good. Sometimes I worry that people say so just to be polite. It is satisfying to sell them, of course, but since I do it through an agent, I don't get to hear what they say about the paintings. And friends, well, I know most of them would admire my work even if they looked like a child's scrawlings.”

“So you do sell your work?”

“Some of it. Whatever I can bear to give up. That's why I have such a store of pictures. There are more of them in the room next door, and we have them hanging about the house. I give some to friends, of course. It's much easier when one isn't obliged to have the money. Of course, I don't sell them as myself. I sell them under the name T. A. Emerson. Emerson was my maiden name, and no one realizes that T. A. stands for Teresa Anne.”

They talked for some time about the paintings and her work, and Julia looked through all the canvases in her workroom and in the storage room next door. She did not even realize how much time had passed until Deverel's voice interrupted them. “I thought I would find you here.”

Julia was shocked by the sudden and intense wave of desire that washed through her at the sound of his voice. She turned around shakily. Deverel was lounging in the open doorway of the storage room, still in his riding clothes. It galled her that she felt this uprush of pleasure at seeing him, that suddenly the room seemed brighter and warmer, the air sweeter. He grinned at her, and for an instant his expression was as welcoming, as warm and admiring, as it had been a few days ago, before he found out about her. Julia could not keep from grinning back. He took a step forward.

Then, abruptly, he stopped, and his face changed, the warmth receding, replaced by a cool, polite, faintly sardonic look, as if he had remembered who she was and what had happened. Julia's heart squeezed within her chest, and her throat was suddenly tight and constricted.

“Why, Deverel!” Lady Stonehaven greeted him. “How nice. I didn't expect you home so early.”

“It's hardly early, Mother. It's almost noon. I have finished with Hammerton, at least for today.”

“Wonderful. Then you will be able to join us for luncheon.”

“Of course.”

“De—Lord Stonehaven,” Julia began, coming forward. “You had promised to show me that note.”

He scowled. “Yes. I will show it to you. But first I must clean up. Why don't we do it after luncheon?”

Julia nodded, and he left them.

Later, during the meal, Stonehaven was remote and cool, leaving the conversation up to his mother and Julia. Julia made it a point to maintain a lively discussion without him. She suspected that he was regretting his promise to show her the suicide note. Cynically, she wondered if such a note even existed, or if he had only made it up in an effort to convince her of her brother's guilt.

After they ate, Stonehaven escorted her to his office, a large room lined with bookshelves and furnished in heavy mahogany. A huge desk dominated the room, and it was to this piece of furniture that Stonehaven went after closing the door behind them. He turned toward Julia.