In the Widow's Bed

“What do you want,” Warminster snapped. “This is none of your concern.”

Phoebe stepped close to him. “Get yourself under control now,” she whispered urgently. Warminster blinked and met her gaze. She tried to convey how damaging his behavior seemed and hoped he understood.

Phoebe tightened her wrapper. “Well, you woke me and your discussion appeared diverting. What a shame it’s all foolish nonsense.”

Phoebe turned for the bed. “Your bedchamber is on the other end of the hall, Lady Jocelyn. Was there something the matter with your accommodations?”

The glance Lady Jocelyn sent her was triumphant. “This room has been very welcoming to me. Unlike some I could name.”

Warminster winced. “I explained I had urgent business to attend to.”

Lady Jocelyn scowled. “At night? Every night of the house party? I swear Warminster, you are toying with my affections for your own amusement. Well, I won’t stand for it. Lord Selwood appreciates me and is desperately in love.”

Phoebe choked. She’d never imagined Lady Jocelyn would have the nerve to behave like this. Attempting to entrap a lord, or any man, into marriage was fraught with all kinds of danger. What if they refused? What if a duel was fought for her honor and someone was killed? What if society shunned her even if she married?

Lady Jocelyn hopped off the bed, bold as brass in an obscenely revealing negligee, snatched up her wrapper and threw it over her shoulders as she strolled out the bedchamber door. Phoebe hurried to shut it before turning back to her enraged stepson.

“Where the hell is the bastard?” Warminster’s voice still had a hard edge and his hands sat on his hips in a threatening stance. “Clifford will kill him for this.”

“I suggest you lower your voice, Warminster, unless you want everyone to question where you’ve been at night because I believe I have a fair idea. I heard about yesterday morning’s interlude in another bedchamber in this house. I’ve done my best to distract Jonathan from any murderous tendencies, but I’m still surprised he hasn’t filled you with shot holes already.”

“Nothing happened.” Warminster moved forward, leaving her uncomfortably close to her stepson, a place she never liked to be.

Phoebe pushed at his chest. “Jonathan did not rendezvous with that chit. He isn’t even here. The walls are thin. I would have heard something before you barged into the room. I heard nothing at all through the night.”

Warminster glanced about him, distaste clear on his features. “Then where is he to clear his name? By now every servant in the place would have discovered that Lady Jocelyn met with him.”

“Only because you pranced in here like a bull in a China shop and believed her.”

Warminster crossed his arms over his chest. “Why are you defending the degenerate so staunchly? He seduced an innocent.”

“Oh, for pity’s sake,” Phoebe hissed. “He didn’t do anything of the sort. Lady Jocelyn has been flirting with the pair of you. But apparently you haven’t been attentive enough so she planned this little scandal to secure a titled husband. You must have neglected to fall at her feet often enough.”

Warminster scowled. “I wouldn’t put myself out for any woman.”

“Yes, I can actually believe that.” Furious that Warminster was so dense, she had little choice but to reveal Jonathan’s location. “Come this way.”

Phoebe spun about and walked into her own bedchamber. After a moment or two, Warminster followed. “What?”

“Shut the door.”

Warminster raised a brow but did as he was bid. The slam of the heavy door raised goose bumps along her arm. Was it really wise to share such a confined space with a spy who could probably kill you without compunction?

Taking a deep breath for strength, Phoebe set her hands to her hips. “Jonathan, come out!”

There was a low scrape then Jonathan’s head popped out from under the bed. “Thanks, it’s a bit dusty under there, better tell Warminster that his servants…” Jonathan’s voice trailed off as he noticed Warminster’s presence across the bed. The two friends stared at each other, belligerence clear on both faces.

“When today is over . . .” Warminster growled.

“. . . we will have a very long, private discussion about your behavior towards my sister,” Jonathan finished.

Warminster’s hands curled into fists. “You planned to punish me by seducing Lady Jocelyn. I intended to offer for her.”

Jonathan crossed his arms over his rumpled shirt. “Seducing her would be punishment for me. She’s definitely not worth the trouble.”

“No. How dare you deny it? I found her in your bed.”

“Technically, yes, you found Lady Jocelyn there and I’ll not deny that. But I was not with her,” Jonathan said.