The Duchess and the Highwayman (Hearts in Hiding 1)

Alarmed, Phoebe sat up clutching the sheet to her chest. “No Hugh, I shan’t leave dressed as a lady and nor with you. I won’t be branded a whore to the entire district, but worse is the danger of being recognized.”

“Come, Phoebe, you are my chosen,” he said cajolingly. “Aren’t you proud of the fact? It means you’ll never have to curtsey to a demanding employer again. Wouldn’t you love to see the expression on Mrs Withins’s face?”

“But I am fallen. The very dirt beneath the feet of people like Mrs Withins. And when you tire of me, I shall be even lower than a s

ervant. Destined for Hell, no less.”

“Don’t cry, Phoebe!” His light-heartedness was replaced by concern as he went to her and gathered her in his arms. “I’d never treat you so shabbily. You won’t starve, whatever happens.”

“Meaning, if you take a wife or tire of me.”

“Please don’t talk like that! I can be as loyal as the Duke of Clarence who has lived with his mistress and ten children for two decades or more.” He started to button his waistcoat, warming to his theme. “And if you don’t wish to travel in my carriage, then you can follow by post. See how willing I am to humor you?” Now fully dressed, he knelt by the bed and cupped her face, smiling. “Your happiness is paramount, Phoebe.” For a moment, they stared at each other.

Then his kissed her on the forehead and was gone.

15

Phoebe stared down at the soft brown curls of her sleeping lover beside her, and her heart filled with love. And fear.

The little bower he’d leased for her on the outskirts of the metropolis was as charming as she could have wished. Hugh was certainly delighted by the arrangement. His desire for her seemed insatiable, and she responded with just as much ardor. Her heart had never been more engaged. Yes, she knew she’d never be redeemed, but what did that matter when the alternative was the noose. If she didn’t think about her soul and the afterlife, she could take what happiness was offered. She’d had little enough of it in her lifetime.

She was astonished by the size of London. She’d never had a proper come-out. Her father had arranged her marriage with Ulrick when she was barely seventeen, delighted to avoid the cost of the wardrobe she’d have needed to find a husband, no doubt. And Ulrick had never taken her to town. He’d never taken her anywhere. Of course, she’d hated being so confined at the time, but now she was relieved to know she’d go unrecognized.

In the leafy suburb of St John’s Wood, she had a comfortable house with a park across the road. She had a cook, a general maid, and her very own lady’s maid. Hugh had been generous indeed, as well he might for he all but lived here himself. Initially, he’d indicated he might make his visits an irregular three or four days a week, but he’d rather established himself as part of the furniture, returning to stay the night, in between going to his club and attending to his other business.

Phoebe had no complaints. She was madly in love, and their increasing intimacy through such habitation gave her the greatest happiness.

All that was missing was a ring on her finger and a contract, sanctioned by the church, which would give her security should Hugh’s interest wane. In every other respect, she was completely satisfied. She didn’t need the title or status that went with her old life. In fact, she didn’t even need to be acquitted. She was much happier living a more lowly existence with a kind man.

Hugh stirred and opened one sleepy eye, his grin broadening when he realized Phoebe was awake and watching him.

“Come here, wench,” he mumbled fondly, drawing her down beside him so he could fondle her breasts. “Ah, you are missing me,” he added as he drew his forefinger between her legs and felt the wetness. Immediately she felt his manhood pushing into her stomach, and a great surge of awareness flowed through her.

“You’re insatiable,” she chuckled, snuggling next to him and hooking a leg over his flanks. “And you seem to think I’m just here for the taking, Hugh Redding.”

“Well, aren’t you? That’s why I’ve set you up so handsomely. I need to keep my beloved satisfied in all ways so your pretty blue eyes don’t stray.”

“And where would they stray, dearest? To the boot boy? Or the man who delivers the coal? It’s not as if I’m surrounded by temptation.”

Hugh cocked his head. “Do I interpret a desire for some more lively company?” Hugh rolled on top of her and put his forehead to hers, his expression concerned. “Are you lonely, Phoebe?”

“How could I be when we’ve been together like we have? I was just funning, Hugh!”

He seemed relieved. “That’s good, for I do worry that when I’m gone — for I hate to tell you that I have to go away for a week very soon — you will be champing at the bit for diversion.” Grinning, he pinched her bottom. “You’re such a lively piece I have my work cut out to keep you occupied. Talking of which, where were we?” he asked, diving beneath the covers before his muffled voice emerged with, “Ah yes, between your legs.”

And indeed, Phoebe would have admitted that in that moment, she’d never been happier or more content with her lot.

Four days later, though, with Hugh having been gone for two, she was as he’d suggested in his equine comparison, “champing at the bit,” so that when her maid handed her a message, her heart raced with anticipation at the thought that it was from Hugh and he was returning early.

To her surprise, she discovered it was from Ada with a request to meet her in the little park opposite as soon as possible.

Quickly changing her dress and putting on a bonnet she’d happily dressed with floral blooms in the drawing room the previous week while Hugh had read the newspaper, the pair of them the picture of domestic bliss, Phoebe arrived at the entrance of the little, gated park wondering what on earth Ada wanted with her.

She smiled to see the young girl heavily veiled and asked, “Are you in disguise, Ada, because you don’t wish to be seen with me?”

“Well, of course I can’t be seen with my brother’s….you know what I mean,” she added slightly defensively. “And now I’m living with a friend of my mother’s who is even more exacting than Aunt Belcher, I need to be even more careful of my reputation.”

“Well, I’m sorry you think being seen with me will besmirch it.” Phoebe felt a stab of pique before acknowledging the truth of Ada’s words. As Lady Cavanaugh, she was naturally Ada’s superior. She brushed the thought aside. “Now, tell me what this is about?” She tried to inject a kindly curiosity into her tone to make up for her prickly defensiveness.