To Distraction (Bastion Club 5)

She stared, through the glass saw him move to the steps, go down onto the lawn, then stride away. Puzzled, she turned and headed upstairs.

Chapter 5

“Do you think we could take a wrong turn?”

“Easily.” Deverell considered the carriages ahead of his curricle. Another line followed behind. “Unfortunately, I doubt that we’d be allowed to get lost.”

A delightful picture in magenta-sprigged muslin, Phoebe sighed and adjusted the angle of her parasol. “Picnics are all very well in their way, but to have to listen to so much silly chatter—that invariably ruins my appetite.”

“Don’t expect any argument from me.” After a moment, he asked, “How did we get roped into this?”

“I don’t know.” Phoebe shot him a darkling glance. “But if you’d been rather less pointed in your attentions to me, I, at least, could have claimed ape-leader status and retired to the library with my book. I still haven’t finished it.”

He hid a smile; he knew what she’d been doing instead. “But such craven behavior on your part would leave me exposed to the likes of Deidre and Leonora—you couldn’t be so cruel.”

She sniffed. “A gentleman has to be prepared to contend with such difficulties when he attends a house party to look over the field.”

“I didn’t. I came to look at you.” He congratulated himself on his decision to leave Grainger at the manor.

She blinked, then turned her head to study him. “Did you?”

“I told you so the first time we met.”

Phoebe faced forward. I came for you.

She remembered his words clearly; replaying them in her mind, in his deep, decisive voice, sent the same peculiar shiver through her. “So you did. I should have paid more attention….”

He glanced at her, a frown in his eyes, as if he couldn’t follow her thoughts and felt uneasy that he couldn’t. But then the carriages ahead turned off the main lane onto a narrow rutted track and he had to concentrate on his horses.

Prime ’uns, as she’d been warned.

By the time he drew the curricle to a halt and came to hand her down, she’d formulated and rejected three different scenarios whereby he and she and his fabulous horses managed to free themselves of the surrounding throng. He’d been right; it wouldn’t be allowed.

Apparently all the other eligibles, male and female, had determined not to allow them any private time together. He, she, or both of them were constantly in demand; even during the picnic at a spot high on the downs, she was frequently applied to for information on the landmarks dotting the wide view.

“You’re very knowledgeable about the surrounding countryside.” Deverell lay stretched beside her on the grass, looking out to the distant horizon. She was seated on a rug likewise looking out, the fresh breeze flirting with her hair. They were temporarily alone, surrounded by the chattering horde.

“I grew up not far from here. My father’s Lord Martindale—Martindale Hall is about twenty miles away, over there.” She pointed to the east.

He looked, then asked, “Do you spend much time there?”

Her lips twisted wryly. “Not since I was eight. My mother died when I was seven. My father became a recluse—he rarely leaves the hall. When I came out of mourning, I was sent to stay with my aunts—I have eleven of them. I moved around between them, but I’ve spent most time with Edith. Her husband had died and she was alone, and so was I.”

He said nothing. After a moment, she glanced at him. “Do you have any brothers and sisters?”

He shook his head. “Like you, my mother died when I was young. My father passed away while I was overseas. I’ve uncles and aunts, but no cousins on the paternal side.”

“Thus your need to marry.”

He nodded.

Before she could probe further—although she wasn’t at all sure why she wanted to know more—Georgina and Heather joined them.

“We’re going to stage the croquet tournament when we get back. Both of you must play, of course.”

Phoebe raised her brows; Georgina’s comment had been couched far too dictatorially. “I fear that after the exigencies of this picnic, I won’t have sufficient energy to make an adequate showing. You must count me out.”

“Oh.” Georgina blinked at her, considered, then patently decided they didn’t need her anyway. She turned her bright eyes on Deverell. “But you’ll play, won’t you, my lord? You certainly won’t be too fatigued.”