When the Earl Met His Match (Wedded by Scandal 4)

“Phoebe, based on your letter, he married you at your first meeting with another man’s child within you! Such a man is not honorable.”

A wicked anger stirred inside her. “How dare you say such a thing!”

“His intentions cannot be trusted and must be questioned. He is dangerous, and I will not send you back. There has been a lot of buzzing in society about your absence from ton events. Our mother has given several excuses, and I am of the mind to agree with her, though I cannot stand those hypocrites of society, that the best thing to preserve your reputation is to attend a few balls.”

She stumbled away from him, her chest heaving with her fury. “You do not know Hugh to speak of him so cuttingly. I will not regard it!”

Something cold and frightening flashed in her brother’s eyes. “Do you fancy that you love him, Phoebe, is that it?”

Do I love you, Hugh? An indescribable emotion flashed in her chest, and she pressed her hand above her heart. It felt as if her soul had answered her brother’s cutting question. And it had screamed a “yes.” She lifted her chin. “It is my choice to love him with my whole heart.”

“And does he love you?”

Phoebe could not say what truth he saw in her eyes, but he closed his eyes against it, almost in denial.

“I will take pleasure in meeting this Lord Albury,” Richard said darkly.

She took a step forward. “You are returning me home?”

Her brother smiled icily. “I will meet him when he comes for you.”

Phoebe clasped her hands before her. She tried to speak but dared not trust her voice. Finally, she asked, “And if he does not come?”

This arrested her brother’s movement. “I can see in your eyes you do not believe he will come. If he does not…then he does not deserve for you to ever return. I have enough power, connections, and wealth to make this right. You will adopt the identity of a widow, and I will see to the arrangements. I will also ensure your daughter is brought to you safely and immediately.”

She swiped at the tears that spilled over. “You dare think I will allow you to make my choices for me? That Hugh will just allow you to swoop in and take our daughter? Have you gone mad?”

Richard reached for her.

“Do not touch me,” she said hoarsely. “You are acting very much like the duke and the duchess, trying to control my choices, my life, and my happiness. You believe me powerless because I am in the city without resources of my own, so I must obey your directives. I do not believe I shall forgive you for treating me so shabbily and without a care for what my heart wants.”

He flinched and lowered his arm. “I am trying to protect—”

“Perhaps you should try trusting me, big brother. My choices are my own, and should you dare try to rob them from me, I will not stop until I have made you regret it!”

Shock flared in her brother’s eyes, and when he stepped toward her, it was his wife who touched his arm, pulling all his attention to her. Taking a deep breath and ignoring her mother, who seemed prostrate with nerves on the sofa, Phoebe turned and walked away, hating that she felt so helpless.

I shall not stay here waiting for rescue. But how could she organize to leave? She could not command any of Richard’s servant to ready the carriage and take her away. Phoebe had no friends in town she could turn to for aid, and she had no money to hire a private coach for such a journey.

Blast it!

Will you come for me, Hugh? she silently asked. Deep in her heart, she desperately, foolishly wished he would. Because perhaps then, she might hope that he was falling in love with her, as she had fallen with her whole heart into love with him.

Reckless, silly heart.

Chapter Seventeen

Money granted power and information, so before Hugh arrived in London, his man of affairs had known Phoebe’s location and exactly where she would be this evening. Hugh had only arrived at his townhouse in Grosvenor Square a little after nine in the evening and was greeted by the under butler and housekeeper, the only two staff who knew how to speak his language.

Only the old earl had known that Hugh invested heavily into schools for the deaf and mute in London and Scotland and that he had given a significant amount of money to ensure those schools were funded for those who could not afford private tutoring. He had instructed his man of affairs to hire staff for his homes in England from amongst those who had studied at the schools he

had helped his tutor to launch.

His man of affairs, James Humboldt, hadn’t been able to find a worker of great experience who knew enough of the language to act as butler, but they were able to hire an under butler who himself was hearing impaired and so was competent in sign. His housekeeper, Shirley Bramwell, also was adept at signing and impressively could speak, even if slowly. She was young but very efficient and glad to be working in such a prestigious household without worrying her disadvantages would cost her a job.

The twelve-room townhouse had been in order, with heavy scents of lemon, beeswax, and freshly cut flowers redolent in the air. Dinner had been waiting, and he had quickly eaten, taken a bath, and then read the report his man had left for him in the study. His wife had been seen about town in the company of her brother, the Marquess of Westfall, and his pregnant wife, Lady Westfall. Phoebe’s brother had a fearsome reputation about town, and his society was more wary than accepting of his presence amongst their lofty ranks.

He filed that information away and scanned the rest of the report. Yesterday Phoebe had attended a ball, the day before a picnic in Hyde Park, and tonight she would be at Lady Lillian Harte’s ball. One Viscount Malfoy was also seen in the company of his wife, and that man was a close associate of her brother. He lowered the report. Nothing there showed a lady eager to return home to her husband and child. Drumming his fingers on the desk, he assessed the situation from all sides. If her parents and brother were determined to keep her from “the mistake” he had hinted about in his letter, Phoebe would be powerless to fight a man of his reach.