The next morning was just about as painful a morning as Phoebe had ever experienced in her life. After Benjamin left the night before, they had all sprung into action. There was so much to do beyond simply packing their trunks. Phoebe hadn’t worn her traveling dresses or her riding habit in more than a year, and both hung on her like potato sacks.
However, that was nothing compared to her mother’s clothes. She had barely eaten in the last twelve months, so while Phoebe had lost near a stone, her mother had lost no less than two. Every dress, every gown, everything, needed to be altered before she could go out in public.
And so, after measuring her mother and sending her off to bed, Phoebe and Becky stayed up nearly till dawn altering their clothing. There were still many that needed work—there were only so many hours in a day, after all—but they had enough to get them through the first few days at Ravenscroft Castle at least. Phoebe hoped there would be time enough to alter the rest once they were there.
It wasn’t until just past five in the morning that she and Becky decided to put down their needle and thread and get some sleep. They would have to be up early to pack the trunks and prepare for the journey, but a few hours of slumber might see them through what was sure to be a long day.
It was eight o’clock by the time her mother hobbled into her room, but Phoebe was already awake. She still lay in bed, exhausted, but rather alert and excited in anticipation of the day. It wasn’t until she’d lain down in the wee hours of the morning that she’d allowed herself to think on her life, how it had changed so drastically in only a week, and how it would continue to change in the coming days and months.
To see her mother now, up and about, actually waking her up for the day, made Phoebe’s heart soar. If someone had even suggested the notion the day before, she would have laughed in their face. And if it weren’t for the massive emerald weighing her ring finger down now, she might still believe she was in a dream.
“Becky’s made breakfast already. Are you hungry?”
“Famished,” she replied, thinking of yesterday’s breakfast and excited for more today. They’d had eggs and bacon, toast with gobs of butter, and tea with sugar. Actual sugar! It had been ages since they’d had sugar in the house.
After an informal and delectable breakfast, identical to yesterday’s, they set to packing and dressing for the journey. Just before ten o’clock, a large, finely sprung carriage pulled up in front of Blakeny House. It was shiny black and bore a large crest with two golden griffins that flanked a shield of royal blue. Below the shield was their motto, Vincit veritas, though Phoebe’s Latin was subpar, so she wasn’t certain of the meaning. This was the Eastleigh crest. And very soon it would be her crest.
Excitement, raw and thrilling, bubbled inside her, like the fine champagne they’d drunk last night, as the driver and footmen carried the trunks to the carriage. Phoebe helped her mother out the door and down the sidewalk. She squinted and hid her eyes from the bright sun. It must be painful for someone who hadn’t been out of doors for a year to go outside for the first time. However, once they were settled against the squabs, Phoebe saw that her mother bore a wide smile. Yes, it was difficult not to smile under the circumstances.
The journey took a half a day and was rather uneventful. Her mother and Becky slept as they passed through miniscule parishes that did not fail to hold Phoebe’s interest. She was tired, but she didn’t want to miss a minute of the vista. It had been some time since she had been to the country; she’d forgotten how peaceful and beautiful it was. She couldn’t wait to open the door to the scents of flowers and greenery; it would be a welcome change from the unsavory smells of the city.
The Wetherbys’ family seat, Ravenscroft Castle, was apparently near the small town of Sevenoaks in Kent, and according to Benjamin, it was not a castle at all, but more of a midsize manor home.
His assessment proved to be a vast understatement. As the carriage approached the main drive to the “midsize manor home,” Phoebe’s stomach lurched. Great stone pillars rose above the oak trees that lined the drive, but nothing could have prepared her for the breathtaking view once the trees gave way. An immaculately manicured lawn stretched out for at least two acres, and stopped abruptly at the edge of a circular drive.
The house itself was built of reddish bricks that seemed to change color in the bright afternoon sun, and the structure spread out on either side of the towers so far that if you were standing at one end, you might not be able to see the other. Impressive stained-glass windows decorated the twin towers, lending a touch of whimsy to the ancient structure. Between the massive columns stood a grand archway, which led to a stone courtyard.
They pulled into the courtyard where they were greeted by a multitude of servants. Footmen helped them from the carriage, lackeys unloaded and carted off the trunks, and a portly older woman—presumably the housekeeper—bustled up to them with a cheery smile.
She introduced herself as Mrs. Simms, then led them into the house. Phoebe nearly swooned at the grandeur and sheer size of the place. It was old, but everything shone as if it had been dusted mere moments before. They walked through long corridors, up ornate staircases, past so many rooms that Phoebe lost count after a while. Despite her exhaustion, she resisted the urge to blink lest she miss something . . . or wake up. Goodness, she hoped she never woke from this dream.
After what seemed like an eternity of walking, they reached the guest chambers. It occurred to Phoebe as Mrs. Simms led them down the hallway that she would spend only one night in this particular part of the house. At least that’s what she assumed since she and Benjamin would be married tomorrow.
Oh, good heavens! They would spend the night together tomorrow night!
Phoebe’s heart raced and her head felt light, so it was quite a blessing when the housekeeper opened one of the doors and said, “Miss Blake, you’ll be in this one.”
She nodded to the housekeeper and told her mother she was going to lie down, then dragged Becky into the room with her. She barely registered the décor in the chamber. It was creamy and bright—and massive—though the roaring fire at the far side of the room made it feel warm and inviting. But she couldn’t stop to enjoy it; she needed first to sit and catch her breath.
The thought of her wedding night hadn’t really occurred to her until now, which was quite astonishing. How could she have forgotten about the wedding night? They’d kissed plenty of times; he had even held her and caressed her hair. Shouldn’t the topic of the wedding night have entered her mind during those intimate moments?
But then, how could it have? It wasn’t as if she knew what to expect in any capacity. She hadn’t come close to even a single kiss during her first season, so apparently her mother hadn’t seen the need to cover the topic with her.
She had thrown herself into this season, and now into a marriage, with no one to guide her in the intimacies of the marital bed.
“Can I help you out of your things?” Becky stood over her, waiting to help her undress. “You ought to take a rest before you meet the family tonight. I’ll lay out the peach gown we worked on this morning.”
Phoebe nodded, shrugged out of her traveling coat, and stood to allow Becky access to the buttons down the back of her dress.
Yes, a little rest would be helpful. Perhaps she was just blowing things out of proportion because she was so very tired. Though it wasn’t tremendously far from London to Ravenscroft Castle, it had taken them several hours just to get out of the city. All in all, she had been in the carriage much longer than she’d slept the night before.
Phoebe absently went about undressing and then finally climbed into the massive four-poster bed. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been asleep—it could have been seconds or hours, really—when she felt a warm and tender hand stroking at her temples, in her hair, across her cheek. She nuzzled the hand, reveling in the caresses, content to fall back to sleep, when she heard her name.
“Phoebe,” the voice whispered. “Phoebe, my love, are you awake?”
Her eyes snapped open to see Benjamin looming over her at the edge of the bed. She immediately grabbed for the counterpane and brought it to her neck, since all she wore was her thin and tattered chemise.
“What are you doing here? Where’s Becky?” she asked, noting, despite her embarrassment, how very handsome he looked today.
His hair wasn’t as mussed as the day before, but neither was it slicked into his usual style. It simply waved against his scalp naturally. He looked a bit tired, but his eyes glinted with happiness. Hopefully, happiness to see her.
He laughed at her modesty and then leaned in to kiss her forehead. “Becky is taking a walk through the gardens with your mother. I’m just saying hello.” He smiled at her, and it sent a jolt of awareness to her middle.
“Could you not have waited until I came downstairs for that? Until I was dressed properly?”
“I know it’s improper of me, but no, I couldn’t wait. And besides, my entire family is here. I thought perhaps I should prepare you before you were thrown into the lion’s den.”
Phoebe couldn’t argue with that. If the rest of them were as gregarious as the duchess . . . oh, Lord, it was best not to think of it like that. How overwhelming it would be to have more than one Kat in a room at the same time!
She smiled then and scooted up to a sitting position, taking care to keep the counterpane in place. Benjamin sat on the edge of the bed, facing her, and took her hand in his. A little thrill shot through Phoebe at the tenderness in his touch, and butterflies began to beat about in her stomach. Goodness, if she got this way over his holding her hand, what would their wedding night be like?
No, she would not think about that now. Already, she felt the color creeping to her cheeks, and she prayed he wouldn’t notice.
Of course, he did. “Why are you blushing?” he asked, looking every bit the rogue. As if he knew what she was thinking . . . and liked it.
“I’m not,” she countered, eager to change the topic. “I’m just . . . warm. Now, what do I need to know about your family?”
“Well, you should first and foremost be warned about the twins. Michael and Andrew have recently reached the tender age of two-and-twenty. They’ve also just finished their last term at Oxford, both having focused on the classics, which will be completely useless to them in the real world, which leads me to believe I will be supporting them for the rest of their debauched lives.”
Phoebe giggled at Benjamin’s vivid depiction of the twins. She noticed that although he didn’t speak overly kindly of the pair, there was a glint of amusement, and certainly love, in his eyes when he spoke of them.
“We are absolutely nothing alike, the twins and I. It’s quite a miracle we were raised in the same household, with the same parents, and given the same education, for where I consider myself to be responsible and studious, they are debauched and reckless. However, I’ve no doubt you will find them to be just as entertaining as the rest of us.
“My mother, on the other hand, is . . . delightful.” He spoke about his mother with a light in his eye Phoebe had yet to see. “She has been the rock of this family. The pillar upon which we all lean. I’ve no doubt the two of you will get along splendidly.
“And you’ve already met Kat and the duke, so that about covers it,” he finished.
“Well, what about your father?” Phoebe wondered. “When will I meet him?”
Ben took a moment before answering. “Unfortunately, my father is unrecognizable compared to the man he once was. He used to be strong and virile; he taught me everything I know.” His expression grew pained, and Phoebe knew it must be difficult for him. While she had not been exceedingly close to her own father, losing him had been one of the hardest things she’d ever faced. “His moments of consciousness are few and far between, and very short, but perhaps later this evening we can pay a visit?”
Phoebe nodded. “I would like that. Now, get out or I’ll never be ready in time for dinner.”
The smile she loved so much returned to his face as he leaned in to plant a tender kiss to her lips.
“I . . . am very glad you’re here,” he said, coming to his feet.
“I am, too,” Phoebe said, and meant it, with all her heart.
***
“It’s hard to believe you’re going to leg-shackle yourself so soon, Ben. You’ve only been back a week.”
Benjamin laughed at his brother Andrew, who lounged complacently across a settee in the drawing room. A week ago, Ben might have said the same thing if it were a friend who was getting married, but not now. It was amazing how smitten he had become in such a short amount of time—quite unbelievable really. And even more unbelievable that he’d almost told her he loved her just a little while ago in her chamber.
He did, of course, love her. But he had never said that to anyone before, except his family, which obviously did not count in this situation. So he’d stopped himself and told her another truth that was just as sincere: that he was happy she was here.
“Yes, really, Ben! Next thing we know, you’ll be saying it was love at first sight, for Christ’s sake!” This came from Michael, the other depraved twin.
“Perhaps not love, but certainly like,” he finally admitted, laughing again at their sickened expressions.
“She must look like bloody Aphrodite, then,” said Andrew, “for I won’t believe that my brother has turned into a lovey-dovey sap all of a sudden.”
“Well, you better believe it, gentlemen, because I am enamored of Miss Blake.”
“As you should be,” came an older, feminine voice from the doorway. “She is to be your wife, after all.”
All three of them rose to greet their mother, who sauntered into the room with a grace and agility befitting a woman of her elevated station in life. Though her dark hair had begun to gray, and fine wrinkles outlined her black eyes and red lips, she was still as beautiful as Benjamin remembered her from his childhood.
“Your father has always been fond of me,” she continued as she took a seat near them. “And I always felt sorry for the women whose husbands did not care for their wives. I won’t have a son of mine marrying a woman he does not love.”
“Love!” Both Michael and Andrew stared back at their mother in horror.
Benjamin remained silent. He wasn’t going to admit his feelings about Phoebe to his family before he’d admitted them to her. To avoid further discussion, and possible inquiries on the matter, he changed the subject.
“How is Father today?” he asked. He’d seen the marquess upon his arrival that morning, but he’d been sleeping at the time.
His mother turned a sad smile on him, and Benjamin wished he had not brought up the worrisome topic.
“Not very well, darling. He’s sleeping now, but I told him you brought Miss Blake home with you, and he said to wake him whenever you’re ready.”
Ben nodded but didn’t have time to respond. Voices in the hall heralded the arrival of his sister and the duke, who were followed by Lady Grimsby, Phoebe and Becky. The maid was turned out in a simple day dress, apparently assuming the role of companion to Lady Grimsby for the week since she did not have to cook or clean.
Lady Grimsby’s health seemed to be improving by the minute, and he was suddenly thankful he had come upon her and Colonel Wallace the other day. Without that bastard harassing her, she might begin to heal after a most horrific year.
His gaze fell on Phoebe next, having saved the best for last. She held onto her mother’s arm, seeming a bit nervous, and he couldn’t blame her. The poor thing was about to have dinner with his family, and while they were an exceedingly friendly bunch, they could be exceedingly overwhelming.
She looked at him with those wide brown eyes he’d come to adore so much. Her gaze pleaded with him to come to her, to take her by the arm and guide her through the evening ahead, which he was thrilled to do.
He hurried to her side, taking her arm and leading her across the room to introduce her to his mother and brothers. Becky took Phoebe’s place on Lady Grimsby’s arm, and they followed as well.
“Mother,” he said when they’d stopped at her chair. “May I present my bride-to-be, Miss Phoebe Blake. Miss Blake, my mother, the Marchioness of Eastleigh.”
She curtseyed appropriately, and his mother smiled at him while Phoebe’s head was still angled to the floor. He wasn’t surprised to see she approved of his choice.
The introductions continued with Lady Grimsby and Becky, whom he introduced as her companion, and then they started all over again with the twins.
Benjamin tried not to groan as they attempted to win over his betrothed.
“It seems you’ve snatched up the prettiest girl in all of London, Ben. What are the rest of us to do now?”
Phoebe giggled, clearly delighted, but not at all fooled by the rogues. “I’m certain you will find no shortage of acceptable girls in London, Lord Michael.”
“Unfortunately, we can hardly throw a stick without hitting one of our cousins, but heaven knows we try.”
“All right, you two, that’s enough,” his mother cut in. “Let Miss Blake maintain her innocence for a few more hours before you start recounting your exploits.”
Phoebe blushed at the mention of her innocence, and Benjamin smiled. She wouldn’t be so innocent after tomorrow. The thought made him instantly aroused, and alternately grateful for the dark color of his pants that would hide that fact from the rest of the party.
It didn’t help that she stood next to him, several inches shorter, giving a clear view to her décolletage. Her skin was the color of fresh cream. God, how he longed to taste it, to touch it, to feel it beneath his hands.
However, this was neither the time nor the place, and after tomorrow, he would be able to abate his lust for her whenever he needed. Lord, he hoped they were getting married first thing in the morning.
“What time will we see the minister tomorrow?” he asked aloud before he had a chance to stop himself.
His mother raised an eyebrow at him. Damn, but she could read him too well. Or perhaps he’d just been that obvious.
The stodgy Ravenscroft butler stepped into the room and rang a tiny bell just then, to announce that dinner was ready. They filed out two-by-two and walked in a caravan to the dining room down the hall. His mother walked directly in front of them on Andrew’s arm, and just before they gained the doorway to the dining room, she turned to them with a smile.
“Ten o’clock,” was all she said at first. But then turned again to add, “And don’t be late.”