Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

"C onfound it, Phoebe. What has happened?" Andrew had never seen his daughter act with such rudeness. "Why are you not in Town?"

"I caught my fiancé in the linen closet with a maid. He… he…" She let out a growl. "I can't even say it. He's a scoundrel of the lowest lot, an obsequious lecher, a?—"

"And you are sounding like a scorned termagant. Your aunt would be appalled." Andrew took her by the shoulders, turned her around, and gently pushed her into the parlor. "Now, sit and start at the beginning without the language used in the hallway."

She poured out her story: catching Kendall with a servant, confronting him with his infidelity, his excuse she was only a distraction, and men had needs (emphasized with a sneer), and the fact he would not promise to bed another woman once married.

"Papa, how did I not know him? We've been courting for six months, and he's a stranger to me." Phoebe threw herself against the back of the rocking chair, and Andrew had to grab her ankle to keep it from falling backwards. He wouldn't allow her to have a broken engagement and a broken head in one day. "I've ended our betrothal."

"Does he want to cancel the wedding?" Andrew knew Phoebe was in a rage, but perhaps there had been a misunderstanding. His daughter could be a tiny bit overbearing, but her heart was always in the right place. Her heart… Why did she seem more angry than heartbroken?

"Of course not. With a beautiful, respectable wife and a generous dowry? If only I was a malleable, shy wallflower, he would be ecstatic. But I won't be leg-shackled to a man who does not see me as enough woman to keep his bed warm."

At the mention of "bed," Phoebe blushed, overlaying pink to the angry spots on her cheeks.

"You do not have to marry if you do not want to. However, keep in mind that many men keep mistresses and do not consider it an affront to their wives." Not that it mattered in the case of his only child. Andrew would find him after the holiday, perhaps invite him to Jackson's. A friendly boxing match might remind him how to treat a lady. He agreed with Phoebe. Matrimony was a serious endeavor, and one which he considered should be monogamous.

"It's insulting." Phoebe crossed her arms over her chest and let out a deep growl. "I wanted to punch him in the nose."

Andrew couldn't help the chuckle that slipped out.

"That's humorous?" She glared at him. "The scandal this will cause!"

"No, not your situation. But the host's daughter, Lady Annette, was disgraced her first Season when she did exactly that. She might give you a lesson." He saw the interest in Phoebe's eyes. Ah, a distraction. "I'm only jesting about a lesson."

Phoebe's frown deepened. "It would make me feel better."

"About that." Andrew needed to approach this carefully. "I can understand the anger at first, but after time spent alone in a carriage with the opportunity to take in the significance of this incident… I admit I'm surprised you haven't shed any tears. Or have you?"

Her wide-eyed look answered the question. She shook her head slowly, brows furrowed in thought. "Not one," she admitted, looking at her father with trepidation. "What does that mean?"

"I'm not an expert, but either the sadness hasn't quite caught up with you, or you never truly loved him." Please let it be the latter, he thought, his heart hurting for Phoebe.

"I'm not sure. I thought I loved him. We were the perfect match. He and his family had everything on my list. How could I not love him?"

Andrew knew better than to laugh at the confusion on her face. "A list does not create love. A list is tangible where love… is ethereal. A feeling that comes over you, and you understand instinctively there is no denying it. Love is knowing that life without that person will never be as magical, as rewarding, as blissful as it might have been with them."

Phoebe sat in silence, picking at an invisible thread on her spencer that she hadn't yet removed in her haste. Now the tears fell. "Could I have imagined myself in love?"

"You wouldn't be the first," he said quietly, rising and pulling her into his embrace. She cried against his chest for a while, letting out her disappointment of a broken betrothal, her shame of not knowing her own feelings.

When the sobs subsided, he cupped her face in his hands. "Perhaps this was fate intervening, saving you from an unhappy future with an undeserving man. You are destined for real love, my sweet Phoebe. You deserve it."

She nodded and gave him a watery smile. "I've made a fool of myself in front of Lord Beecham and his family. I'm so sorry."

"They will understand if you don't mind me sharing your story."

"It will be all over the broadsheets by tomorrow, anyway." Phoebe sniffed. "Please, could we go home?"

"I'm afraid we'd miss all of Christmas Day if we left now. There's plenty of room for you here. I think you'll like my friends." Andrew wondered how the devil he would tell his daughter, recently un betrothed, that he was now courting Nettie. A woman closer to her age than his. Would Nettie understand the postponement of their news? This was deuced bad timing.

* * *

Annette almost blew out her sigh of relief when Drew returned, a forced smile on his face. No one had died or was injured, then. He quickly explained his daughter's unannounced arrival, then asked them not to mention his courtship with Annette right away. He hadn't been able to tell her, considering the circumstances.

"Of course not, it would be like rubbing salt in a wound. The poor dear," said Annette, rising from her chair. "Is she still in the parlor? I'll have the housekeeper ready a room for her."

"That would be much appreciated. I'll have her trunk put in my room for now. When she's ready, I'll have her join us in the drawing room."

Annette had a tray sent up to the viscount's room, assuming Phoebe had skipped breakfast on the journey from London. An hour later, Drew and his daughter joined them. The resemblance between them was obvious. Same thick auburn hair, same deep-brown eyes. When introductions were made, both William and Mr. Wilkens seemed to brighten. They had both agreed—sight unseen—to help keep the young lady's thoughts from her recent betrothal. The fact Miss Phoebe Weston was beautiful with a generous figure made the task more enjoyable.

The butler knocked, then entered with an envelope in his hand. He handed it to the earl, who opened it. "Seems Ambrose and Hesta won't be joining us. It was snowing heavily this morning, and they thought it best not to travel considering Hesta's condition."

"What condition?" asked Annette. "Is she ill?"

"I think this is our brother's way of telling us we shall have another niece or nephew," said William. "Congratulations to them!"

Wassail was passed around, then the group splintered off. William engaged Miss Weston in a game of chess. Annette played a set of whist with Mr. Wilkens against Papa and Alice. Before the second set, Wilkens gave his place to Drew. Again, Alice and Papa won both games.

"If finances ever become a problem, you could easily become sharpers on the side," said Drew as he rose from the table. "My ego calls for me to quit before I lose my dignity."

Alice needed little urging to play some carols on the pianoforte. After an hour of hearty singing, William and Mr. Wilkens decided to play billiards. Miss Phoebe decided she needed a rest before the evening festivities. Both men waited by the door, waiting for her to approach.

William plucked a berry and held it up. "A toll, my lady," he said with a grin, offering his cheek. She obliged with a smile and repeated the kiss for Mr. Wilkens.

Alice and Papa retreated to the library to exchange personal gifts. "We won't be gone long, so mind yourselves!" said Papa as they left the room.

"How fortuitous since I have a little token for you," Annette said. "Because I didn't expect… well, you , I had to be clever."

"I have a feeling you always are. I had to be resourceful too."

"You have a gift for me?" Her pulse raced. How exciting. Her first gift from a beau.

Annette went to a corner of the room and brought back a long thin item wrapped in brown paper, and a small gold box. As she returned to her chair, Drew walked to a bowl on a side table and snatched an apple. They sat opposite each other in front of the hearth. The yule log had been split, sprinkled with salt and scented oil, lit yesterday with the remainder of last year's log. Now, its crackle added a cheerful background to their exchange.

He placed the apple on the table between them. She grinned. "In case I get hungry before dinner?"

Drew snorted. "No, my valet seems to be an expert on random fascinations. He told me this fruit has been a prominent symbol of affection and future happiness over the ages. So, I offer you an apple."

"Oh! I love learning something new—and romantic." Annette would never look at an apple the same way. She handed him the long, thin package.

When he unwrapped the arrow, he gave her a cautious glance. "Are you giving up your pugilistic ways and turning to archery?"

She gave him a mock frown. "It represents Cupid, how you've struck my heart." She handed him the small gold box.

"I have a suspicion this arrow struck my heart first." He turned his attention to the box, lifting the lid to find a delicate white swan made of folded paper. He set it on the table beside the apple. "It's beautiful."

"Watch," she said, picking up the paper bird by each tiny wing and snapping them apart to make the figure wider. Now the swan was able to sit on the table, wings out. "Swans are a symbol for everlasting affection."

"Then the swan is truly a gift, as you are. I believe they practice monogamy." Drew picked up her hand, kissed her knuckles, and then flipped it over and pressed his lips to the palm. His warm mouth on her bare skin sent a jolt through her. She felt like an oil lamp freshly lit.

Drew stretched out his leg and pulled a small packet wrapped in tissue paper from his trouser pocket. "I'll have to thank Bowman later. If he hadn't told me about the apple, I'd be a gift short." He handed her the small gift.

Annette's stomach was in a jumble. She hadn't expected anything. The fruit had been such a lovely gesture and would have been enough. She peeled away the paper, a slight tremble in her fingers. Nestling inside was an enchanting braid of red, light rose, and white silk thread tied into a Celtic love knot.

"It's said that this particular knot is for lovers and represents no beginning and no end." He leaned over and tipped her chin up with his forefinger. "When I first saw you leaning over the balustrade, I knew you were special. It's beyond reason how this attachment happened so quickly, but I would be a fool to ignore it. I can't imagine going back to my old life, nor can I imagine my future without you in it."

Annette blinked back the tears. She wrapped the braid around her wrist and looped the ends with her seed pearl bracelet. "When I'm not wearing it, I will use it as a bookmark. Then I may always think of you when we are not together."

He stood and held out his hand. She took it, and he pulled her into his arms, giving her a long, lingering kiss. His lips were warm, his tongue hot and seeking, and her body was turning to jelly. Heat rushed to her core as she wrapped her arms around his neck, fingering the soft curls at his nape.

" What are you doing? " screeched a voice behind them.

They both turned to find Miss Phoebe Weston staring at them, her mouth dropped open. "Papa, she's only a few years older than me. How could you?"

"Phoebe, considering your arrival, I didn't think it prudent to tell you of our courtship. We were?—"

"Prudent? Prudent is not wooing someone half your age. It's about an heir, isn't it? You said you didn't care if you had a son. I-I filled your heart, and you didn't have room for another child. But it isn't true, is it?" With that, Phoebe ran from the room.

"Phoebe!" shouted Drew.

Annette stood in shock with Drew's arm still around her waist. She stepped away. Breathe, just breathe! How had the joy of one moment ago turned into a horrible ordeal in the next?

"She's overwrought from the engagement." Drew removed his arm, leaving her with a coldness that was quickly seeping through her limbs. "I'll talk to her. She'll come around."

Annette nodded, her mouth dry, not knowing what to say. She watched him leave the room, then sank back into the soft leather chair. The fire seemed to taunt her with its once-comforting sounds. Her hand touched the bracelet she'd just fastened to her wrist. She blinked, trying to see the intricate knot blurred by her tears.

It had been too good to be true. A cruel joke of fate. Love… here and gone. He wouldn't go against his only child if she refused to accept their courtship. Annette wouldn't want to enter into a marriage with such animosity. They would be at an impasse.

She had to escape, just for a while, jump on Domino and ride until they were both exhausted. Annette yanked the bellpull, ordered for her horse to be saddled and her cloak fetched.