In the Widow's Bed

Yet he couldn’t stop himself from entertaining the same. Jonathan glanced about the chamber. “Now what am I to do about Warminster? Shall I beat him to a pulp or slice him to ribbons on the field of honor?”

He watched Lizzy very carefully, but his bloodthirsty suggestions dragged a shudder from her. So that was a no to any retribution. He wondered what she had in mind.

Lizzy shook her head. “Back to you and Lady Warminster. What can I do to help?”

Jonathan drew in a breath at the change of subject, but for now he’d allow it. “Nothing. Despite our affair, she will always be your friend. But forgive her for this morning, won’t you? She was terrified.”

When Jonathan stood, Lizzy climbed to her feet too. “Thank you for coming to check on me. You really are a wonderful brother.” She stood up on her toes and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

When she exited the room, Lizzy moved with customary but distracted haste. Jonathan stepped out into the hall, wonde

ring what was going through her mind now, but she disappeared down the servant’s staircase without a backward glance. Really, sometimes he wondered just what went on in her brain. He shrugged off his sisters problems for now and took the stairs down towards his study.

Phoebe paced the room.

Jonathan took a moment to enjoy the view then he quietly locked the door behind his back. He must have made a sound because she turned to face him. The deathly pallor of her features hurried him across the room. “It’s all right, ma belle.”

“I told you this was a mistake.” Phoebe wailed against his chest. “How will she ever be able to speak at me again? I’ll miss her so.”

Phoebe broke into uncustomary sobs and Jonathan did his best to soothe her with his hands. The fact that she clung to him so readily made him feel ten feet tall. His sister’s discovery of their affair had shifted the balance in his favor. With luck, he wouldn’t do anything to end their liaison too soon.

When Phoebe’s sobs quieted, Jonathan swept her up into his arms and sat with her on his knee. She clung to him and Jonathan decided he could get used to this kind of afternoon. A pretty woman on his knee, quiet house about him.

A timid knock sounded on the door. Phoebe scrambled from his lap and put the entire room between them. He groaned as he climbed to his feet and unlocked the door. His housekeeper waited on the other side.

She cast a quick glance over his attire. “Lady Elizabeth suggested Lady Warminster might enjoy tea.” She bustled past and set the tray on the corner of his desk, nodding politely to his lover. When she’d set everything to order, his housekeeper turned for the door and the impish grin on her features startled him. She winked as she swept out the door.

Damn that Lizzy! She’d told the servants.

When he looked up, Phoebe appeared confused.

“Lizzy cannot be too angry with you. She sent tea.” Jonathan relocked the door, skirted the desk and sat down to read the small stack of correspondence that had built up over the past few days. After a few minutes, Phoebe moved to sit on the other side of the partner’s desk to pour her cup of tea.

“There isn’t a second cup. Should I call your housekeeper back?”

Jonathan snorted. “I hate tea.”

Her brow wrinkled. “You take tea whenever you come to Moreton Hall.”

Jonathan winked, but he turned his attention to the correspondence rather than explain himself. Phoebe was a clever woman. Eventually, she would work it out.

“Oh,” she whispered.

Jonathan let her absorb his odd past behavior a while before he spoke. “How do you like Lord and Lady Parsons? We have an invitation to a soiree in three weeks’ time.”

Phoebe’s cup rattled to the saucer. “They are a well placed family. Their daughter is coming out soon.”

“Hmm, this ball must be for the daughter then. What are her chances of making a good match?”

“Quite good. She’s a beauty.” Phoebe’s voice wavered with her admission.

“Ah,” Jonathan murmured then set the letter to one side. He picked up the next. “And what of Lord Prescott? I’m invited for a week long shooting party next month.”

“His daughter is a sweetheart,” Phoebe’s voice whispered. “Very kind.”

“Right.” Jonathan dropped the invitation with the other and continued through the pile. He had a lot of invitations from families with eligible young daughters. And by the end of the short stack, Phoebe looked profoundly uncomfortable. “What are you doing for the next few months?”

Phoebe appeared surprised by his question. “I’ll be here, of course.”