Chapter Twenty-Six

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

W ith shoulders tensed and a pleasant smile plastered to her face, Phee stood beside her mother, greeting the attendants of their ball. With each curtsey, Phee wished she were back at the estate in Poole, ensconced with Harrison as they had been a month ago. Even with him by her side now, his support comforting, she could not help the buzzing that vibrated through her as she dipped curtsey after curtsey and made small talk while the temperature of the room rose and the cotton in her ears fought against the noise that threatened to bombard her.

She loved her mother, truly she did, but she could not ascertain how the woman found such joy hosting these productions every year. The stress that plagued her mother during the planning of their yearly ball, combined with the monotonous duties of hosting, left Lady Youngly a shell by the end of the night and yet each year she dutifully sent out invitations and repeated the occasion as if the previous one never happened.

Lady Tabitha Grayson came to stand before her, her husband Sir Reginald Grayson beside her, and Phee dropped another curtsey before meeting the abominable woman’s gaze. “Lady Grayson, it’s lovely to see you this evening.”

“Yes,” Lady Grayson said, her smile artificial, her gaze calculated as she took in Phee’s pink ball gown, which held nary a ruffle of itchy lace, and simple coiffeur that required few of the uncomfortable pins to keep her hair off the back of her neck. “So glad we could attend. Sir Reginald wasn’t certain we’d be able to come. After all, we only just returned from our honeymoon.”

“How wonderful,” Harrison said, stepping into the conversation. “As did we. Where abouts did you journey to?”

Lady Grayson batted her eyes at Harrison, her smile gentling in a peculiar way as she titled her head toward him. “We were in Rye. Sir Reginald has his estate there and wanted to show me the manor as the new lady of the house.” She shook her head. “It’s more of a castle than a manor, honestly, but castle sounds so dreary.”

“Yes,” Harrison said, placing his arm on Phee’s back. “We visited our estate in Dorset. While it is no castle, it was rather nice to spend the days at the beach with my beautiful bride.” With a smile to Sir Grayson he said, “No doubt you understand, Grayson.”

Sir Grayson nodded at him, a pleasant smile on his face before he turned his attention to Lady Sundry who made her way past, her crimson dress cut daringly close to her bosom.

“Well, it’s lovely to see you both. Please enjoy yourself,” Harrison said, bowing to the couple before turning to Phee. Leaning down, he said in her ear, “Come with me?”

Phee nodded, relief pouring over her.

Taking her hand, he gave their excuses to her mother before leading her away from the receiving line and down the hallway to her parents’ library. Inside, Phee took a breath, her shoulders loosening as the quiet of the room washed over her, the buzz of people dissipating as Harrison closed the door.

Coming to stand before her, he took her chin in his hand, tilting her face toward his. “That was a lot of people you spoke to. All right, love?”

“Better now,” she said.

Stooping to her height, his brow furrowed. “You look like you need a hug.”

Laughing softly, Phee nodded her head before stepping into his open arms, his familiar scent filling her senses. His arms wrapped around her shoulders squeezing her tightly, willing away the overwhelming sensations of the receiving line. With his strong grasp and citrus smell, the tension eased from her shoulders and neck, her breaths becoming shallow as tranquility flowed over her.

“Can’t we just stay like this?” she asked, pulling back to look up at him. “I know it’s my mother’s ball, but I’m sure no one would notice if we didn’t return.”

A corner of his mouth rose in a smile and he kissed her forehead. “The idea has merit, but I’m sure your mother would come searching for us. And if I’m being honest, I’d like to not be in her bad graces.”

Blowing a puff of air through her lips, Phee leaned against his chest. “You act as if she will bite you.”

“Angering your mother terrifies me.” Harrison rested his chin on her head. “You’ve practiced for this, love, and I’ll stay by your side like a sentinel, ready to take on anything that comes.”

Phee groaned.

“I know, love, but you can do this. I’ll be by your side the entire time.”

With a sigh, Phee pulled herself away from Harrison’s arms. Shaking out her soft pink skirts, she looked at her husband in his navy coat with tails and white breeches, his black slippers polished to a shine and his golden locks brushed handsomely away from his face. “I’ve begun to think we should make an addendum to the contract. I should receive a prize every instance I put myself through one these things,” she said, taking his proffered arm and following him from the library.

“What would you like, love?” he asked.

“A day with you,” she said. “Like we did at the bookstore.”

“Phoebe, I’ll happily give you that anytime you’d like. Choose something outrageous.”

Pausing before the ballroom where couples swirled and matrons cloistered in groups no doubt gossiping, Phee turned to look at him a smile on her lips as she shook her head. “There’s something special about knowing that I get to have a full day of you all to myself. And perhaps, if I spend my time thinking about what adventure we’ll find instead of how overwhelming this event is, I’ll be able to get through it easier.”

“We could always change that part of the agreement entirely. I don’t want you to suffer through something that makes you uncomfortable.”

Smiling at him, she said, “Yes, but then I won’t get to dance with you.” Taking a deep breath, she squeezed his arm. “Ready?”

A quizzical look overtook his face, but instead of continuing their conversation, he merely nodded and led them into the fray. The scent of sweat and perfume filled the air, chasing away Harrison’s clean smell and sending her stomach roiling. She desperately wanted to cover her nose or bury it in the folds of his cravat, but Phee merely squeezed Harrison’s arm, holding on as he guided her to the circle of people that included her parents and her brother and sister-in-law, all the while her fan moved at a constant pace, wafting the scent of honeysuckle to her nose.

“Better, dear?” her mother asked, her eyes scanning Phee’s face for any sign of distress.

Phee smiled and nodded her head, certain if she opened her mouth, she would be able to taste the hideous odors.

Harrison placed his hand on the small of her back, navigating her toward the side where the wall of windows stood open, the breeze giving her some relief. “You’re wrinkling your nose,” he said in her ear.

“Thank you,” she said.

As the strains of “The Earl of Mansfield” began to play, Harrison held out his hand to her, sending her a wink. “Come along, Lady Everly. I believe this is our dance.”

Lady Hunt smiled at them as they made their way to the edge of the line to dance the Scottish reel. Taking their place on either side, Phee looked at Harrison who quickly puckered his lips in a kissing motion before turning his attention back to the music.

Harrison bowed before her and Phee dropped into a curtsey before they picked up the moves of the dance. Eyes glued to Harrison, Phee imagined they were at home in their own ballroom and the noise around her dimmed. Whether it was the cotton in her ears or her imagination, she did not know, but a smile pulled at her lips as she watched her husband skip and hop before her, his eyes bright and his face jovial.

“I had forgotten how physical this dance was,” he said as he drew closer, taking her hand as they spun in a circle.

Phee laughed. “It does seem rather excessive, doesn’t it?”

Harrison chuckled as they separated and returned to their lines while the other couples danced before them.

In little time, the song ended and Harrison made his way to Phee, his cheeks red and his breath choppy from the exercise. “That was tiring,” he said, placing his hand on the small of her back to guide her off the dance floor.

“Poor dear,” Phee said, taking his hand and patting it. “Shall we get you home for a nap? I know how cranky the elderly can get when they’re tired.”

Harrison leaned forward, his hooded gaze no doubt a sign that whatever he planned to say would be rather witty, but whatever he intended was cut short as a shoulder bumped into Phee hard, the shove sending her a few steps forward. Harrison caught her deftly, pulling her to his side as he turned to confront the villain.

“Oh, how clumsy of me,” Lady Grayson said as she moved forward flanked by Lady Minerva. “I’m ever so sorry, Lady Everly. I didn’t see you there.”

“No apology necessary,” Phee said as the woman’s cloying cinnamon scent nearly overwhelmed her before Harrison stepped in front of her, a scowl on his beautiful face. “I’m sure it was an accident.”

“Of course it was,” Lady Grayson said. “You looked to have been enjoying yourself on the dance floor.” She looked to Harrison, her eyes raking over him. “You have a wonderful dance form, my lord.”

“What a tasteless thing to comment on, Lady Grayson,” Harrison said, his eyes dark as he pulled Phee close.

Lady Grayson tittered, no doubt unaware of just how unwelcome her advances were. “A mere flirtatious comment, my lord. It doesn’t harm anyone. The ton is filled with inappropriate innuendoes and illicit affairs. After all, what is one to expect with marriages such as ours?” she said, looking to Lady Minerva with a catlike smile.

Phee’s stomach dropped at Lady Grayson’s words.

“Marriages such as ours?” Harrison asked, the words low.

She smiled what she must think a coquettish grin. “Yes, my lord. Marriages like ours. Ones made for the betterment of business or finances.” She glanced to Phee. “Or for the procurement of a title for those who would no doubt see the spinster shelf.”

Harrison glared fiercely at Lady Grayson. “Surely you’re talking about yourself, my lady?”

Lady Grayson frowned. “Don’t be silly. I married Sir Grayson because it was what my father wanted and they came to an agreement. Isn’t that what all marriages end up being? An agreement?”

Harrison looked at Phee, a softness taking over his face. What Lady Grayson said was true, truer than she would ever know to be. Their marriage had been an agreement. A contract between two people who were desperate to free themselves from the paths they were forced upon, just as Lady Grayson’s marriage no doubt was. Unlike theirs, however, their contract had changed, and so had the motive for such a marriage. Now, she could not fathom a day where she did not wake up beside Harrison, her arms wrapped around his waist, her head on his shoulder while Mildred sat contentedly at the bottom of the bed awaiting her breakfast. No, their marriage was not like that of Lady Grayson. It was something more.

Lady Grayson moved closer to Harrison, dropping her voice so only they could hear her. “I know the boredom of such a marriage.”

Harrison raised a brow at Lady Grayson, his mouth set in a firm line. Raising his voice, he said, “My wife fills every need I could ever have and unlike your marriage made of contractual agreements, ours was made of love. This beautiful woman chose me to be her husband, and I’ll count myself lucky every day that she told the minister yes.” Stepping closer to Lady Grayson, his eyes bore into her as he lowered his voice so only they could hear him. “If I ever hear that you’ve dared to sully my wife’s name, I’ll ensure that not only your husband, but the ton, learn how truly ill-mannered and disgraceful you are.”

Bowing to Lady Grayson, Harrison placed his hand on Phee’s lower back and guided her away from the pair.

“That was rude, Harrison,” she said.

“Me or her?”

Phee bit her lip to hide her smile. The man was trouble, but she could not contain her glee at knowing that he would gallantly fight for her no matter the monster. She recalled every small moment where he had stood beside her as she pushed herself through a hard encounter. Every moment of interest when he asked after her bees or Mildred. Every gentle touch and soft kiss that was done without thought or request.

Perhaps, for others, such declarations of love would be required as soon as they were felt. Demanded, even, but if she could see the love so clearly, then surely there was no need for pronouncements, no suffering speeches where they confessed their undying love. Perhaps, like they had started, their love was simply an understanding. A gentle acknowledgement between them merely seen through their actions.

But, if he were to ever say the words, even in the simplest of ways, then she would answer him truthfully. She loved him too, ardently, desperately, wholly. She loved Harrison Metcalf, the Earl of Everly. Phoebe Metcalf loved her husband.