Lord Eastleigh passed away quietly in his sleep a few days after the wedding, his wife by his side. While there had been an ominous cloud over the household before, it seemed to literally rain with despair now.
This morning, as with every other morning since arriving, Phoebe strolled through the Ravenscroft Castle gardens with Kat, matching her reserved pace. It was a lovely spring day. The sun was bright, the sky a pale blue with the occasional white fluffy cloud. Though Phoebe didn’t feel right about enjoying the day or the weather. The somber mood that came with the death of Lord Eastleigh would have been better matched with dark skies and torrential rains.
What a different household she seemed to be living in now. Katherine hardly spoke at all, which was actually quite unnerving. Phoebe had grown so accustomed to hearing her constant chatter, but silence had become the only accompaniment to their daily walks.
Not even the twins, so gregarious and full of life, could muster the fortitude needed to tease or entertain with risqué jokes. It was sad and frustrating and reminded Phoebe of her year in mourning for her father. But as much as she wished for life to return to normal, she knew how important it was that they all mourn the marquess in their own manner and time.
“Do you know what the hardest part of all this is?”
Phoebe cast a sidelong glance at Kat, surprised she was initiating a conversation. “What’s that?” she prompted.
“That this one,” her hands moved to her belly, “will never know his grandfather. He was such a remarkable man, Phoebe.”
“I know he was, Kat. But you’re wrong to think your child won’t know his grandfather.”
Kat turned a questioning glance on her, and Phoebe smiled.
“He is in you, and in your brothers—in your wit and humor and good nature. I think your children will have a very good idea of how remarkable their grandfather was.”
For the first time in weeks, a smile came to Kat’s lips and actually made its way to her eyes. She readjusted her shawl and then looped her arm through Phoebe’s.
“Do you think you and Benjamin will honeymoon once all this has passed?”
Phoebe cocked her head sideways, contemplating. “I hadn’t even thought about a honeymoon, to be perfectly honest. It would be nice, though I don’t see it being anytime soon. Perhaps once Benjamin unburies himself from the mounds of paperwork.”
Kat squeezed her arm a little tighter. “Good,” she said. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”
“What will happen once you return to your own home, Kat?”
“Oh, heavens, I don’t know. But for now, I’ve convinced William that I want to stay here. The ducal seat is in the Lake District, you know. I refuse to go through my confinement without my mother . . . and you, of course. So don’t even think about leaving me!”
“You forget this is my home now. Where on earth would I go?”
There was a moment of silence between them as they navigated around an elaborate topiary. Phoebe took special note of the daffodils that lined the path, knowing their days were numbered. As they approached the house, Kat gave her arm one last squeeze.
“I’m glad you’re one of us now,” she said, and then disappeared inside the house.
Phoebe stared after her with a smile on her face. “So am I.”
***
Benjamin stared at the mound of papers and letters and ledgers in front of him, and tried his best to keep his heartbeat to a normal level. He tried even harder to push the memory of the night his father died from his mind, but it kept whittling its way back in. His brother-in-law had delivered the message in the middle of the night, waking them from a deep sleep. In the moment it had seemed that all the air was being sucked from his lungs; as if his limbs had seized and his heart had stopped beating all together. For at the same moment he mourned his father’s death, he felt the unbearable weight of his inheritance suddenly upon his shoulders.
There was so much to know, to learn, and he’d thought he had so much time. Though his father had taught him a great deal growing up, Benjamin knew he had not so much as scraped the surface of what his responsibilities were.
Then Ben had made that one terrible mistake of calling out Grimsby and then fleeing the country upon word of his death. He remembered the day well. It was nearly two weeks after the duel, after he had shot the man clean through the shoulder. He thought it would heal, it was such a small wound and the bullet had shot out the other side, but apparently the baron had not been made of very sturdy stuff.
Did you hear? Gambling Grimsby’s kicked the bucket. Something about a fever, I hear.
He had overheard the conversation at his club, and he didn’t even bother to confirm it. He feared too many questions might raise suspicions. Very few knew about the duel, and he preferred to keep it that way. So he packed his things and left the next morning for Dover, stopping briefly to tell his mother and father he was leaving for America, but that he would be back soon.
At the time, he had anticipated being away only a few months, but as the guilt began to niggle and gnaw at him, he found it more and more difficult to buy passage on a ship back to England. Besides, he’d found a woman to be with, he’d made friends and formed business liaisons. And he liked New York. Everything was new there, and it made it easy to believe in a new beginning for himself.
“I thought you might like a cup of tea,” came Phoebe’s voice from the doorway of his study, formerly his father’s.
She never failed to bring a smile to his lips, even when the darkest of thoughts clouded his mind. It had been three weeks since the wedding, two and a half since his father’s passing. Phoebe, being no stranger to grief, had been his rock since then, and he finally understood what his father had been talking about.
“That would be lovely,” he said, beckoning for her to come to him.
“You look tired, darling. Will you come to bed soon?”
He looked at the clock. It was indeed late and the mound of papers before him would take hours to get through. “I suppose these can wait until tomorrow.”
“I wish you would let me help you sort through all this,” she said, putting her hands to his shoulders and massaging them with a strength that belied their dainty appearance.
He groaned his appreciation before mumbling his answer. “It would only strain those lovely brown eyes, and I can’t have my wife squinting at me now, can I?” He pulled her into his lap, eliciting a surprised squeal, and planted a kiss to her lips. She was so beautiful, and he still found it difficult to believe he had found her and married her all within a week.
“Take me to bed,” she whispered. Her breath feathered against his ear, sending a shiver down his spine.
“You needn’t ask me twice, my love.” He stood from the chair, keeping her firmly cradled in his arms. Together they blew out the few candles that were lit on the desk and in sconces on the walls, and then made their way to the bedroom.
***
Phoebe woke the next morning to find her husband already gone from the bed. It wasn’t a surprise—he had only remained in bed with her for the first couple of mornings after their nuptials. Once his father passed, everything changed. Benjamin wasn’t sleeping well at all, and she knew it was more from stress than grief, though she was sure he missed his father tremendously. She saw the look in his eyes sometimes, as if he might go mad thinking of what needed to be accomplished.
He met daily with the steward, the many tenants, the solicitor—for the last will and testament needed to be fulfilled, and his father’s wishes had been many. Lady Eastleigh helped where she could, but she was so overcome with grief she tended to keep company with Phoebe’s mother more than anyone. If anyone could help the dowager marchioness through this, it was Lady Grimsby.
Phoebe hated this horrible feeling of helplessness. She wanted to do something—needed to do something productive. She tried to keep occupied, walking with Kat through the gardens or playing the piano or embroidering, which she continued to be absolutely dreadful at. But the thought of her husband pouring over piles of documents while she lazed about the estate didn’t sit well with her. It didn’t seem fair, and she couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t let her help. She could at least answer his correspondence for him. Sharing the load might mean spending more leisure time together, rather than Phoebe spending it alone.
Deciding that she would talk him into letting her help if it was the last thing she did, Phoebe swung her legs over the edge of the bed, rang for Becky, and began to ready herself for the day. It didn’t take long, and within the hour she was at the breakfast table, devouring her poached eggs and buttered toast. No one else was there, so she didn’t have to make small talk or even mind her manners. When she was done, she darted off to Benjamin’s study, excited to get to work.
But the study was empty, with no sign of her husband anywhere.
She started back down the hall, hoping to run into someone who might know where he’d gone off to, but it seemed the entire house had emptied out. Finally, she found Sikes, the butler, overseeing a pair of chambermaids as they dusted down the library furniture.
“Lady Eastleigh,” he said in time with a deferent bow.
“Oh, good morning, Sikes,” she greeted the man. “Have you seen his lordship this morning?”
“His lordship left hours ago with his steward. Something about a leaky roof on one of the tenant’s cottages.”
Well, that was disappointing. Phoebe’s spirits deflated at once, knowing Benjamin might be gone all day if he was visiting tenants. So much for helping him sort through the mess of papers on his desk.
Phoebe paused once she was in the hall, an idea coming to her. Why couldn’t she help him still? He didn’t have to be present for her to organize the mess or reply to a few social invitations, did he? Anything that seemed of elevated import, she would simply put to the side for him, but everything else . . .
Excited again at the prospect of making herself useful, Phoebe marched right back to his study and plopped herself down in the large armchair behind the desk. She felt rather dwarfed by all the large furniture and the mound in front of her. But she would not be deterred.
She decided she would divide everything into categories on the desk, so she moved all the papers to the outer edges in order to make room. The first letter she picked up was an invitation, so she purposely placed it on the desk to her left. That was a pile she would read through later herself.
The process went rather quickly, and before she knew it, she had six neat little stacks in front of her, a result of the first large stack of papers. She hummed to herself as she moved on to the next pile, standing so she could reach it on the far side of the desk. But as she reached for the letter on top, she lost her balance and sent the entire stack scattering to the floor.
“Oh, bother,” she mumbled as she rounded the desk and bent to re-form the pile.
As she gathered the envelopes, one in particular caught her eye. Where all the others she’d gone through had been obvious as letters of business or invitations, this one was not, and it bore no return address.
Phoebe stared at the letter, noting it had certainly been written in a woman’s hand. Either that, or a man with quite a feminine flourish. And it was addressed not to the Marquess of Eastleigh, or even the Earl of Glastonbury, but simply to Benjamin Wetherby. She wondered if it was from someone whose intent was disrespect, or perhaps somewhere where titles were not common.
She sighed as she looked about the room, then blew her breath between her lips as she looked back at the envelope. What if it was important? And time sensitive? It could take Benjamin weeks to get through all these letters, but this one possibly needed immediate attention. Would it be so awful if she just took a peek to make sure there was nothing urgent enclosed?
Her heart raced and her palms began to sweat at the thought of actually opening something that looked so very personal. Did she really want to know what was inside this letter? And would Benjamin ever forgive her if she read something that wasn’t meant for her eyes?
Of course he would! They were married and he loved her, didn’t he? He hadn’t said it in so many words, but certainly he had shown it over the last few weeks.
Besides, how could he be mad at her for merely trying to help? He would be a complete boar if he did, and one thing Benjamin was not was a boar.
Though she had reasoned her way to the opening of the letter, her hands still trembled as she broke the seal and unfolded the foolscap.
And then she immediately wished she had let well enough alone and not opened the blasted letter.
***
Benjamin arrived home with little time to bathe and change for dinner. He had spent most of the day helping a tenant repair a leaky roof. He supposed he could have waited to send one of his many workers there to fix it, but with the dark clouds that loomed overhead, he wasn’t certain there was time to wait. Especially when the crofter had a wife and three small children who needed a dry home.
After that, his solicitor had taken him on a tour of the cattle pastures, not far from the cottage he had repaired, and by the time they were finished, the sun hung low in the sky.
He didn’t see his lovely wife upon his arrival back home, for which he was rather grateful. He was sure he didn’t smell very appealing, and it would have been difficult to keep his filthy hands off her pure, creamy skin.
It wasn’t until he went to the drawing room, clean and dressed appropriately for dinner, that he saw her. His heart still skipped a beat whenever his eyes landed on her. Tonight, she wore a charcoal gown made of muted satin. The style was simple, the dress almost plain. A single strand of pearls dangled from her neck, and her hair was piled loosely on her head, some of it falling to frame her face.
Good Lord, even in mourning colors, she was a vision.
She sat next to his sister on the far side of the room, a glass of claret in her hand. She hadn’t seen him come in, and it was Katherine who noticed him first.
His sister gave him a serene smile, but when Phoebe’s eyes met with his, there was nothing serene about them. And her lips certainly did not form a smile.
Benjamin’s stomach twisted with worry. Had he done something wrong? Was she angry that he hadn’t woken her that morning? What could possibly be the matter?
She held his gaze for only a moment before looking away, almost as if she hated to treat him thus, but had no choice. It didn’t make much sense to Benjamin, but he had long ago stopped trying to analyze the female brain. He would simply have to endure her strange behavior until later, when they had a chance to talk privately.
As it turned out, it was much, much later by the time they made it to their chamber. Phoebe had insisted on several rounds of whist after dinner, so it was nearly midnight when they finally were alone.
Benjamin had spent the evening pretending as if everything were fine. He gave no indication that he noticed her strange behavior. He was sure Phoebe didn’t think he was so addle-brained not to notice, but she hadn’t said anything to him yet, so he continued to act in their normal manner.
He shut the door to their chamber and followed her across the room to the vanity, where he always helped her with the buttons down the back of her dress while she removed her jewels and unpinned her hair.
“You don’t have to do that tonight,” she finally said as he reached for the first button.
“Have you grown extendable arms to do it for yourself?” he asked, hoping to perhaps incite a smile. He had no such luck.
“No, I have not.” She removed her pearls and her bracelet, then turned to face him, not a hint of humor anywhere in her countenance. Good God, what the devil had he done? “We have to talk, and then I’m going to my own room. Becky will help me undress tonight.”
“Like hell she will,” he countered. His blood began to boil. It was one thing for her to ignore him all night, but quite another for her to decide they would sleep in separate rooms. She hadn’t even told him what was wrong. He had been given no chance to defend himself yet. How was she so sure they wouldn’t work out whatever differences she had found between them this evening?
“Yes, she will . . . ” Phoebe pulled a folded-up piece of paper from the bodice of her gown and held it out to him. “Unless you can explain why your mistress is still being supported and cared for in America while you have a wife here.”