“Wentworth and his staff wouldn’t recognize you either as a servant or a lady. You said it yourself! Why, you were only in your mistress’s employ for a month, and you say you met him but a couple of times.”
Phoebe bit her lip. “I can’t do it. He would recognize me. I’m sure of it.”
Ada looked fierce. “That’s not what you told my brother. You’re just saying it because you’re afraid.”
“I am afraid, Ada. Mr Wentworth is a horrible man. I saw what he did to my mistress. No, I’m not going anywhere near him.”
“I’m not suggesting you consort with him. Just that you quiz his circle: friends or his aide de co
mpte. I know where to find Collins. He served Mr Wentworth during the war and for five years after that. He was kind to me, and I think he feared Mr Wentworth, but he would do it for me—he’d tell me where to find Wentworth’s wife. And then I’d tell you, and you could seek her out.”
When Miss Redding gripped Phoebe’s hand and begged her once more, Phoebe knew it really was time to leave. Agreeing to Miss Redding’s request that she move in more aristocratic circles would be like signing her death warrant.
“Hugh, I’ve been ordering my thoughts since I came here.”
Hugh glanced up from the writing desk in the parlor, surprised to see that his sister’s usual vacant look was replaced by an almost mutinous expression. Ada, before her tragedy, had been neither vacant nor fiery. Just a sweet, pliable girl with an occasional tendency to speak her mind to her brother.
He blinked a couple of times, trying to reconcile for a moment just who this new young woman before him actually was.
“Ordering your thoughts, have you?” he repeated.
Ordering his thoughts was just what he’d been trying to do, but the book in front of him was still at the same page as it had been an hour before, and Hugh was as far advanced in deciding what to do as he had been when…
When his life had been turned upside down. He blinked again. Good Lord, he couldn’t work himself out.
“Hugh, are you listening to me?”
He nodded.
“When I first got here, I thought some mad impulse had taken possession of you to lease a house like this. Why, there’s nothing here for miles around.”
He thought he wouldn’t push the point that Wentworth lived only one hour’s walk north. Not when Ada seemed more in possession of her faculties than she had in a very long time.
No, he’d not bring up Wentworth ever again, for the more time passed, the more he realized that pursuing Wentworth was not going to achieve satisfaction for his sister.
Right now, she looked exactly as any unspoiled young woman of his acquaintance might look, and he was certain she could get away with her sins and make a fine marriage were it not for Ada’s own insistence that she never intended looking at another man again.
For the hundredth time, Hugh wished he’d not sought the counsel of their Aunt Belcher who, while taking matters in hand, and looking after Ada before and after the unfortunate business, considered Ada a disgrace and never lost an opportunity to tell the girl her thoughts.
“I’ve been talking to Phoebe—”
“Why?”
She raised her chin. “I know what she is to you, Hugh. Don’t pretend I’m the pristine innocent I was before…” her eyes flashed before she continued, “…I met Mr Wentworth.”
“Don’t speak of him, Ada.”
And don’t speak of Phoebe like that either, he thought angrily as his sister’s words rang in his ears: “what she is to you…” What was she to Hugh? A sweet, immoral creature whose freely offered charms were a marvelous diversion?
No, she was more than that. For the past hour, he’d been staring at the blank pages of a book, trying to come up with some practical reason to extend his tenure in this house where he could be free to follow his heart. In London, he’d have to squire his sister around; pay calls on various notables. In short, he’d have less time to spend with Phoebe, and right now, that’s all he wanted to do.
Their lovemaking still had that illicit edge to it. He’d taken her in joyous impulsiveness in the still room, the parlor, and finally beneath the spreading branches of a beech forest. The only place they’d not consummated their passion was in a proper bed. God, he wanted a whole night with her. He wanted to wake up with her beside him and know she’d be there when he turned in for the night. Like a properly sanctioned union.
Sanctioned? That was not a desire to articulate when it could never be. He shook his head to clear the nonsense from it. Phoebe might be clever at pretending to be a lady, but he must always remember that she wasn’t.
“Like you said, Hugh, Phoebe is an utterly marvelous actress. Why, were it not for her dress, I could have imagined she really was a fine lady. So my idea is this, Hugh. Are you listening?”
Hugh focused his attention on Ada once more. Her talk was extraordinary. Well-brought-up young girls like his sister should know nothing about women like Phoebe.