Immediately, Phoebe had wondered whether Adam knew these things, as well. She hadn’t been able to stop herself from asking, willing to endure Augusta’s suspicions. When she’d learned that Adam knew much of it—especially about the babe—Phoebe had swooned. Having never swooned before, she found the experience most unnerving. She’d awakened with her sister’s arms around her, being rocked and soothed.
For a time, Augusta had been frantic beneath her usual calm, commanding surface. Her fingers had trembled against Phoebe’s back and arm as they’d retreated to the settee to partake of tea and ginger biscuits. That may have been why it took another ten minutes for Augusta to inform her that she was marrying Sebastian Reaver—whose real name was Elijah Kilbrenner, and whose real bloodline made him the heir presumptive to the Earl of Tannenbrook—at St. Marylebone that very morning.
Phoebe had selected her best sprigged-muslin gown, the white one with tiny, primrose flowers and green leaves. Then she’d hugged Augusta tightly and made her swear marriage was what she desired.
“I love him, Phee,” Augusta had confessed in a raw whisper. “So much I can scarcely breathe.”
Now, as the chill sank past her shawl and mocked thin layers of muslin and cotton petticoats, Phoebe gazed past the iron fence to where Reaver’s coach rolled away.
“You should wait inside the church,” came a crisp, masculine voice from behind her. “You’ll catch your death out here.”
His voice was as cold as the wind. It swirled around inside her, deepening the cracks and hollows until she felt every one as keenly as a cut.
“I have endured worse,” she replied. Then, unable to help herself, she glanced over her shoulder. Those beloved golden-amber eyes were locked upon her. “Are—are you attending the breakfast?”
Adam’s mouth twisted. “I must, mustn’t I? Best man, and all that.”
“Adam, I …” She swallowed and turned to face him. “I am sorry.”
“For?”
“Not telling you the truth.”
His eyes wandered over her shoulder as his face tightened. “Yes. Bit of a shock. Though perhaps I should have seen it.”
“You deserved to know.”
He blinked. Tilted his head. Focused upon her. “Why? I was nothing to you.”
“On the contrary,” she answered, her voice trembling and warping. “You are everything to me.” Her eyes filled with tears. She dashed them away with an impatient hand. “Whatever else occurs, you must know that.”
He frowned. Stepped closer. “Phoebe.”
“You are right. I should go inside.”
She made to move past him, but he grasped her elbow. He drew her close, lessening the chill.
“Do you wish to marry him?”
“I have no choice.”
“But do you wish to?”
She met his eyes, golden and glowing. “There is only one man I wish to marry. And I found him too late.”
Astonishment wreathed his handsome features. His breath quickened. His grasp tightened.
“You must never imagine my regard for you was false,” she said. Her eyes closed as her voice crumpled. After a moment, she gathered her composure, though several tears tickled a trail down her cheeks. “Nothing could be truer.”
Behind them, the clatter of wheels and the nicker of horses approached.
“Phoebe,” he whispered.
“I must go.”
“I—God, Phoebe. I wish—”
“I know.” She smiled at him through her tears. “I wish, too.” Her hand covered his, stroking tenderly. “If only wishing made it so.”
His jaw tightened. His eyes narrowed as they dropped to her shoulders and arms. “You haven’t been eating properly.”
“My appetite fled. I had a terrible row with a beloved friend, you see.”
His gaze met hers. “Eat. For the babe’s sake, if not your own.”
She nodded and spoke to the roses in her hand. “I shall miss you. For the rest of my life, Adam Shaw. Long after you have forgotten me, there will be a woman somewhere in England whose heart remains yours.”
His hand dropped away.
She turned blindly and descended the steps, accepting the footman’s help into the carriage. Then, as it pulled away, she found the strength to look back at her handsome Indian chap. He stood gazing after her with the most peculiar expression.
It was the look of a man who had buried his mother, traveled across the sea to English shores, and fought to earn his place, inch by inch. A man who refused to let anything keep him from what he desired.
His was a look of fiery resolve. And for a moment—just a moment—Phoebe wondered if she’d been wrong.
Perhaps she hadn’t found him too late. Perhaps she’d given up too soon.
~~*
Hours after Augusta spoke her vows to Sebastian, she lost track of him. It happened while she was listening to Ash’s animated account of an encounter with Lady Wallingham.
“She says if she saw me take another piece of bacon, she’d wallop me backside! Gor, that lady is fierce. So, I tells her, ‘Lady, this bacon is for guests,’ to which she answers, ‘Guests, not urchins fresh from the chimney.’”
Augusta smothered a grin at his wide-eyed tale. “And did you, in fact, take another piece of bacon?”
“Oh, aye. But I waited until she weren’t watchin’. I lost it, though.” He scratched his head. “Don’t know what ’appened. One minute there, the next gone. I ’ave my suspicions, I do. Old lady with the feather in ’er hat looked mighty pleased with ’erself. Sent a chill down me spine, I don’t mind tellin’ you.”
This time, Augusta could not help laughing. She tousled the boy’s hair. “I suspect you are fortunate to have avoided a sore backside. Lady Wallingham is not to be trifled with.”
He snorted and shook his head. “That’s God’s truth, Lady Reaver. God’s truth.”
“Mrs. Kilbrenner, Ash,” she corrected gently.
“Nah. Too big a mouthful. I like Lady Reaver.”
She sighed, electing not to argue the point. “You have your own bedchamber now.” She raised her chin and gave him a stern look. “I trust you will sleep there and not run off again.”
“Aye. I promised, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you did. Now, I shall expect you to keep it.”
He grumbled beneath his breath.
“Something to say, Ash?”
“Nah. Somethin’ in my throat.”
Her lips quirked. “Perhaps it is the bacon.”
A few minutes later, Mrs. Higgins ushered Ash into service helping clear the trays from the dining room, and Augusta discovered she was alone in the drawing room, all the guests having departed.
Only a few had attended the ceremony, but they had all been gracious and kind—even Lady Wallingham. Lord Tannenbrook had braced Sebastian on the shoulder and said quietly and simply, “Well done, man. Well done.”
Lady Tannenbrook had pulled her aside to apologize for any discomfort Augusta might have suffered at the dinner. “I made all the arrangements before I knew about you. By the time Elijah informed me he would be bringing a guest, I had already invited three young ladies from my list of potential matches. Of course, everyone could see how much Elijah adores you, so there was never any misunderstanding on the ladies’ part. But when you departed so suddenly, it occurred to me that you—”
“Not to worry, my lady. You’ve been most kind. It is I who should offer apologies for leaving so abruptly.”