Kiernan released her and when he took the necklace from the box, Phoebe stood stock still while he walked around behind her. As she had the first night he’d kidnapped her, she wore her golden hair up. He settled the necklace around her neck. The cold stones seemed to seer her flesh, to scream faker.
While closing the clasp, he leaned forward and whispered, “One year, Phoebe. It would be wrong for me not to give you what is rightfully yours.” He grasped her shoulders and turned her, then reached for the earrings. Kiernan clipped one on each ear, then took a step back and surveyed her.
“Perfect. Have you a cloak?”
“In the hallway.”
“Then we are ready?” Kiernan surveyed the group.
“Oh, yes, indeed, sir,” Lady Albery said, dabbing at the moisture in the corner of her eyes.
“My dear.” Lord Albery retrieved a handkerchief from his breast pocket and gave it to her.
She took the handkerchief, again dabbed at her eyes, then pulled Phoebe into a hug. “Phoebe, my dear.” Lady Albery straightened, then paused and touched the necklace. “Breathtaking. You are most fortunate.” She blushed. “Do forgive me, everyone. I hadn’t realized how this would affect me.”
Phoebe frowned. “You knew of this?”
“Of course. Lord Ashlund informed us he would be presenting you with the family jewels tonight. I couldn't be more pleased.”
Phoebe looked at her uncle. “And you, sir, are you pleased?”
He gave a nod. “I am.”
Kiernan took her arm. “Shall we go?”
She looked at him. “It seems I am at your full command.”
Or was that at his beck and call?
*****
"You received my letter?" Ty's mother asked as they sat on the couch in her chambers' anteroom the following morning.
"I did."
"My God," she exclaimed, "can you imagine? The marquess kidnapped Phoebe."
No, he couldn't imagine.
"Have you seen her yet?" Lady Albery asked.
"I only just arrived and you waylaid me before I could find her."
"Ty, what are we to do? Albery has ordered her to marry him. To make matters worse, Ashlund gave her his mother's jewels last night. Emeralds and diamonds."
"Worth a fortune, no doubt," Ty commented.
"Yes," she replied. "You must take action immediately. She can't marry him."
Ty eyed his mother. "That's a new morning dress you're wearing. Madam Bellievau, if I’m not mistaken."
"Well, yes," she said in a fluster. "This is one of her creations. You always did have a good eye."
"That dress must have cost a king's ransom. What does Albery think of that expenditure?"
"He can't balk over this," she said in a rush. "I must dress well. After all, I am the wife of a viscount."
"So he has yet to see the bill."
"I didn't ask you here to talk about my wardrobe," she shot back.
"But you did. I tell you, madam, that when I come in possession of Phoebe's money, I no more intend to finance your whims than does your husband."
"So you haven't given up hope. Oh, Ty, I can't tell you how relieved I am."
"Mother," he began.
"Don't discipline me, Humphrey. I am quite capable of staying within a budget."
"On the contrary, you have never even seen a budget."
"Never mind that, you must make haste if you are to marry her before the marquess."
"I have no intention of marrying her just yet."
His mother's eyes widened in horror. "How are we to survive if you don't?"
"You will survive quite well," he said. "As for me, I have matters in hand."
A speculative gleam lit her eyes. "Clive mentioned that the marquess might meet with an accident."
"Clive will do well to mind his own business."
"Still, isn't it taking a chance to wait?" she went on as if not hearing him. "How long would you have to wait before—"
"No more expensive dresses, Mother, and more important, no more gambling. I don’t want your husband learning of your indiscretions—which includes Clive." She opened her mouth, but he cut her off. "Defy me, and I'll leave you to drown in your debt." He rose, dropped a kiss on her cheek, then left.
Ty paused in the hallway, outside the door. So Clive was cultivating his own plans, despite Ty's warning to stay out of the affair.
Perfect.
*****
Phoebe stared down at the card sent by Lord Redgrave saying how much he was looking forward to seeing her tomorrow. Her two-day reprieve had ended. Tomorrow evening, the Duke and Duchess of Ashlund were hosting an intimate dinner party of one hundred or so of their and her uncle's closest friends in order to officially announce her and Kiernan's engagement. Redgrave's note was a warning to be there.
Guilt tightened her stomach. The duke and duchess were making a sincere effort to draw her into their family. She liked them. Heaven help her, she liked Kiernan—more than liked, if she was honest. How would she face the duke and duchess if she became the instrument of their son's downfall? How would she face them even if she simply cried off from the wedding? One way or another, things weren't going to end well.