She wasn’t ready to confess her identity when she wasn’t sure enough of him.
“Were you trading on past experience to be so beguiling when you desired a new dress? Were you a rich man’s mistress, perhaps?”
Phoebe hung her head. That’s exactly what she’d been, and her silence seemed to confirm it in Mr Redding’s mind.
“So, once you had a rich protector, but now you’re a lady’s maid?”
Unable to look him in the eye, she nodded, tears threatening.
“And now I am your protector and am funding a new wardrobe?”
Slowly, she raised her head. “So this is when you ask me to sleep with you?”
He seemed to be thinking, staring out of the window with a troubled frown. “I had no idea my wild adventure to apprehend Wentworth would lead to this.” He returned his look to her. “To rescuing a beautiful woman and keeping her safe.” He appeared to resolve upon something for he added, “But gallant gentlemen rescue maids in distress. Opportunistic blackguards seduce them.” His sudden smile took her by surprise, sending her heart into freefall. “Have no fear, Phoebe. I shan’t make uncomfortable overtures and trade on my good fortune in adding an accomplished, entertaining, and exquisite-looking woman to my household. Not if the idea is so repugnant. No, I promised a fair trade: your information to bolster a case against Wentworth.” His voice dropped as his eyes traveled over her, lingering on her décolletage which, for the first time, was shown to best advantage thanks to the stays the dressmaker had procured in a hurry. “Perhaps one day I might persuade you of my inherent charm. But you will have to make it clear you’re…in the market.”
“I may have lost my virtue, Mr Redding, but not my dignity.” This was uttered in a less convincing tone. Phoebe slanted another glance at him. He was a fine-looking man. And a gentleman; not a blackguard. How many men would not take advantage where they could?
He put out his hand slowly, and Phoebe watched his seeking fingers gently skim the puffed roulade of her sleeve before advancing across her shoulder toward her bared skin. Anticipation rose, and she sucked in a shallow breath as he slowly contoured the edge of her gown, skimming the top of her breasts.
“I know you’ve felt more than just a passing interest in me, from the moment we met, Phoebe,” he whispered. His fingers were so close to dipping beneath the fabric of her bodice, but he restrained himself, and Phoebe felt a tugging, yearning feeling from the depth of her being and was unsure if she were relieved or otherwise.
By God, but he was making this difficult. She’d wanted any encounter of a physical nature to prove she was not the weak creature she’d always been with Wentworth. Yet she wanted only to step into this man’s embrace and see where it took them.
Swallowing, she suddenly pulled away, saying in an as disinterested a voice as she could manage, “What news of the murder at the manor? You were out on horseback in the village this morning, were you not?”
He remained where he was, matching his tone to hers.
“A dozen more men have been scouring the countryside looking for Lady Cavanaugh, but there’s not been so much as a sighting. Someone suggested she is so filled with shame and mortification she’s thrown herself do
wn a well.”
Phoebe snorted. “I don’t think Lady Cavanaugh is one to be cast down by mortification for something she didn’t do.”
“Well, there’s no one standing in her defense except you, Phoebe.”
She swung around quickly. “No one? Well, I’m sorry to hear it, but I’ll not speak up and be the only one if it’s my word against Wentworth’s.”
“You might just have to since it would appear you are the only one to have witnessed his crime. There’s no doubt in anyone’s mind that Lady Cavanaugh is her husband’s murderer.” He gave a sigh of frustration. “Are you sure there’s no one else who’d speak up in your mistress’s defense? That’s if she truly is innocent as you claim.”
“She is innocent,” Phoebe muttered sullenly. “But it appears Mr Wentworth is going to get away with his crime, after all. Doesn’t it?”
“Indeed. And in the days since the murder, you are I are no closer to achieving what either of us had hoped.”
Yes, only a few days had passed, but already Phoebe was growing weary of the lack of respect, bathing water, and other comforts she was used to. The servants in the house were barely civil to her, believing her to be Mr Redding’s mistress already, no doubt.
“So what do we do now, m’lord?”
He chuckled, reverting to the playful, slightly condescending tone he’d adopted prior to assuring her of his gentlemanliness. “I keep forgetting you’re a consummate actress, Phoebe, but although you’re adept at playing the lady of the manor, it only takes one misstep to be revealed for the imposter you are. No need to look so indignant. I am a gentleman; therefore you cannot refer to me as m’lord.” He put his arm about her shoulders and led her to the window embrasure, talking all the while as if tutoring a student. “But you are good, I’ll grant you that. Why, if the fancy took us, I do believe it would be quite a lark to take you somewhere I’d not be recognized and pass you off as my wife.”
Phoebe raised an eyebrow. “As your wife, sir? Why, you speak of a lark for the future which almost implies I was already your mistress. What was all this talk about just now, then? You do take a lot for granted.”
Mr Redding laughed easily once more, and Phoebe noticed the dimples among the smattering of freckles on his cheeks. He really was a handsome and good-humored man when he smiled. Phoebe couldn’t remember when lightness and easy humor were a feature of her endless days with either Ulrick or Wentworth.
His eyes narrowed but again with humor. “Oh, I think you’ll enjoy it, Phoebe. You like a challenge; I can tell.”
“I like a challenge, it’s true, but my greatest challenge right now is convincing you that my honor is greater than my mercurial desires.”
“You intend to see how much I’ll give you without you giving me anything in return?”