“Forgive me, Colonel Wallace, I wasn’t expecting you,” Phoebe said as she descended the stairs.
The colonel turned to look at her. His eyes squinted against the sun that flowed in from the fanlight. He wasn’t a horrible looking man, but clearly hygiene was not high on his list of priorities. He smelled strongly of tobacco and spirits, and it wasn’t even nine in the morning. But there was a kindness in his eyes, a softness about his features.
“No, no, it is I you must forgive, Miss Blake, barging in like this. I was passing by when I saw your lovely maid leaving and ascertained that you must be back in Town.”
“Oh, Colonel, you must not have heard. I was married only a few weeks ago, and I am afraid I am no longer a Blake, or a miss, for that matter.”
The man’s jowls shook as he tipped his head to her. “My sincerest felicitations for a happy marriage then, Lady . . . well, it must be Eastleigh now, is it not?”
Phoebe nodded, a sad smile on her lips. “It is.”
“Right, well, my condolences as well then.”
There was an awkward pause, and Phoebe had the distinct feeling the man wished to be invited in for a more proper visit. She hated to be rude, and it wasn’t as if she could go anywhere until Becky returned anyhow. There was the matter of her half undone buttons, but other than that, she didn’t see any harm in giving the man a few minutes of her time.
“I don’t have any refreshments to offer, Colonel, but if you would like to come to the parlor, we can certainly have a chat. You can tell me all about your wife’s prize rose garden you’re so fond of.”
His beady eyes lit up and he smiled down at her. “Well, that’s very kind of you, Lady Eastleigh. I’ve been on my feet since early this morning, so a brief rest would be welcome. The delight of your company is a boon I was not quite expecting.”
Phoebe smiled back and then led the way to the parlor. She let the colonel sit on the sofa, which was even dustier now after weeks of neglect, while she sat on the small spindly chair. There was a moment of awkward silence. Without the distraction of tea service, there was nothing to do with her hands, other than fidget with the fabric of her pale blue day dress. She smiled at the colonel; he smiled back. Finally, she opened her mouth to speak, just as he opened his.
“What brought you back to London?” he asked as she was saying, “I trust your wife is well.”
They both laughed, and Phoebe gestured for him to go first.
“I wondered what brought you back to London and, more specifically, to this house. I would think your new husband would have better accommodations for you here.”
“Um, yes, of course,” she laughed, brushing off his comment as if there was a completely viable explanation. However, there wasn’t. At least, not one she could share with him. Think, Phoebe, think! “I…I came to prepare the house.”
“Prepare?”
“Yes! You see, the house is not entailed and, therefore, since it is no longer needed, we will sell it.” Phoebe kept the sigh of relief as internal as she could at her quick thinking. She had no idea, though, if they would be selling the house or not. Perhaps her mother wished to return to it, but the thought of her here, all alone, didn’t sit well with Phoebe.
“I see,” he said, then added, “And, yes, my wife is—ahem . . . well, thank you.”
All of a sudden, the man dissolved into a fit of coughing. He doubled over, trying to clear his lungs of a distinct rattle. Phoebe watched for only a moment before leaping from her chair and rushing to his side. She sat down beside him, and the girth of his weight caused her to sink towards him, until she was pressed up against his side. She reached an awkward arm around to pat his back, but before she made it that far, the colonel ceased his coughing and grabbed her wrist.
Phoebe blinked up at him, surprised at the firm grip and the menacing look that lit his eyes now. Her heart raced at the realization that his coughing fit had been a ploy. A ploy to get her closer to him, though she couldn’t begin to understand why. He had never shown any hostility toward her in the past—as a matter of fact, he had always seemed kind and caring—yet now he looked positively murderous.
“C-colonel, what are you doing?” she asked, trying to sound indignant, but knowing her voice shook with fear.
“I’m collecting payment due, my lady.” His tone was low, and he spoke so close to her face, she could smell the rotting of his teeth. She was tempted to swoon from the smell, but Lord knew what he would do to her once she was unconscious.
So she collected herself and tried to pull away from him. He only held tighter, though, as he came up to his knees on the sofa beside her and grabbed her other wrist. Now he towered above her, fat and salivating—a hideous creature Phoebe did not even know. How could it be that the man who so lovingly spoke of his wife’s roses was now staring at her with all the evil of Satan himself?
But through the haze of her fear, it triggered what he’d just said. “Payment?” She looked up at him, hoping the terror she felt in her heart didn’t show on her face.
“Oh, so he didn’t tell you after all, I see. They’ve kept you in the dark, to preserve your sweet innocence, I presume.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Your mother wasn’t finished repaying me,” he said, showering her with spittle on almost every consonant.
“Colonel Wallace, I am sure that whatever is owed to you we can now pay. Money is no object. Please, let me go.”
A maniacal smile came to his lips. “I do like it when you beg, Lady Eastleigh.”
Phoebe’s stomach turned. And her mind spun with the effort of trying to put it all together. Payment. Payment for what? And who had kept her in the dark about it? Surely not her mother, who had been lying comatose in her bed for a year? What could she possibly have known about this?
If Becky knew anything, she never would have let the man into the house, so Phoebe mentally marked her from the list.
That left only one person. And added yet one more lie to his catalog.
The twisting in her heart at this horrendous thought hurt far more than the firm hold Wallace had on her wrists. It made her want to give up, to let him do what he wanted. Take his payment, whatever that may be. For what did any of it matter now?
Not only had Benjamin lied to her about Lillian, her father and now even this bizarre situation with the colonel, but he had left her. He had left without a word, without an apology of any sort. And he’d left her to fend for herself with his family, and with Wallace.
It was almost more than she could bear. No, she was stronger than that. She could bear it, but she didn’t want to.
And so she surrendered. Her body went limp as the tears began to flow. She closed her eyes tight as Wallace pinned her arms together over her head, and waited for him to do his worst.
***
Benjamin walked through the front door of Blakeny House, excited to find his wife and begin the healing process in their relationship. But instead of finding Phoebe at the door, he was greeted with whimpering and sounds of struggle.
It was a cold feeling that passed over him, leaving his hands numb and his heart pumping with fury and fear. He and Becky exchanged panicked looks, and then they both darted down the hall toward the parlor.
The door was wide open, and Benjamin’s gut turned as he was faced with his most horrific fear. Wallace had his wife—his wife!—pinned to the couch, his face a mere inch from Phoebe’s. Her eyes were shut tight, and he could see the tears glistening on her cheeks. Benjamin didn’t hesitate before launching himself at the fat bastard attacking his wife. The man hadn’t heard them come in, so Benjamin took him by surprise when he delivered an upper cut to his jaw and sent him sprawling to the floor beside the sofa.
As much as he wanted to go to her, he left Phoebe in the capable hands of Becky. “Get her out of here,” he said, his eyes cold and focused on the colonel, who now struggled to his feet. He knew if he looked even once at that beautiful and pained face, he wouldn’t be able to resist taking her into his arms.
But first he had a job to do.
He grabbed Wallace by the collar at his throat and twisted the fabric until he was sure it was near to choking him. “What part of ‘Stay the hell away from them’ was so difficult for you to understand?”
Of course, Wallace couldn’t answer—not with Ben’s knuckles digging into his throat. He just stared back, red-faced and wide-eyed. Clearly, he hadn’t expected to see him there that morning.
And then Ben unleashed his fury on the loathsome wretch. He delivered a few poignant blows to the man’s face. The sound of cracking bones and teeth gave him a great deal of satisfaction. And once the man succumbed to unconsciousness, Benjamin left the room. He was certain the man would not get up for quite some time.
He made his way up the stairs and found Phoebe and Becky sitting on the edge of the bed in what Benjamin assumed was Phoebe’s old bedchamber. Tears streaked her face as she lay with her head in Becky’s lap. He knelt down in front of her and stroked her cheek until she opened her eyes to look at him. Her bottom lip quivered, but she made no move to go to him. Rather, she turned her face into Becky’s skirts and began to cry all over again.
He would not be deterred, though. He wanted to hold her, to be the one to comfort her. And he could do with a bit of comforting himself. So he sat on the bed beside her and dragged her, albeit reluctantly, into his arms, until it was his chest she cried upon.
“Becky,” he said quietly as he stroked Phoebe’s hair. “I need you to find me a runner, quickly. I don’t know how long we can keep the colonel incapacitated.”
She needed no further explanation; she was up and out the door within seconds. Ben took a few moments of silence to slow his breathing and to thank God he had arrived when he did. He had already paid the man far more than he should have, sure that the sum would keep him out of their lives for good. Obviously, Wallace had been out for much more than monetary compensation.
With so many willing women wandering the streets of London, Ben wondered why he’d been so intent on harassing the Blake women. But it didn’t matter now. Wallace was going to get just what he deserved. Benjamin would have no trouble pressing charges against the man in a court of law.
However, that was not his most pressing concern.
“Phoebe, my love,” he whispered as he pulled back so he could see in her eyes. When she refused to open them, he said, “Please, my darling, let me see you.”
It seemed to be a struggle, but she finally lifted her lids to reveal those wide sable eyes he had missed so very much. They were filled with tears and fear and sadness, and all he wanted was to make it all go away. He wanted to see her smile again, to hear her laugh . . . to hear her say I forgive you and, perhaps, even I love you.
“What are you doing here?” she finally asked, her voice thick as she tried to swallow more tears.
“I saw Becky at the market this morning and followed her here. She says you came to find me.”
She nodded. “I m-missed you,” she said, and then scrunched her face up with uncertainty. “Is that . . . all right?”
For the first time in weeks, a genuine smile spread his lips. “Of course it’s all right, darling. And quite a relief. I was sure you hated me. That’s why I’ve stayed away so long.”
“I never hated you, Benjamin,” she assured him. “I—” She looked down to where she gathered the fabric of her skirts in her fingers, and then back up. “You lied to me.”
“I know.” He looked at her, deep into her eyes, and hoped she read the honesty and sincerity that lay in his own. “And I promise I will never make that mistake again.”
“But you have.”
“What are you talking about?” The hope he had felt a moment before vanished in an instant. Clearly, they weren’t done sorting out their issues.
“What do you know of Colonel Wallace and my mother?”
Dammit! Benjamin breathed out, long and slow, and threw his head back to stare at the ceiling. The bastard had said something to her, but what was he to tell her?
“Phoebe, it is not, nor was it ever, my place to tell you about Wallace and your mother. And as a matter of fact, your mother begged me to protect you from the truth.”
At this, she was up and off the bed, pacing before him. “Why? Why does everyone think I need to be protected? Have I not been the rock my mother has depended upon for the last year? Have I not kept a household afloat on my own? A girl, who should have been at balls and parties, not force feeding her mother, or searching the ground for a fallen penny. It was I! I did all that.” With a resigned sigh, she added, “The faith you all have in me is astounding.”
“Phoebe, please, you’re upset. You’ve just had an awful fright, and I don’t blame you one bit for being angry . . . with me, with your mother and Wallace. Lord knows, you are entitled.”
“Entitled doesn’t begin to describe it, Benjamin. What did everyone think I would do if I knew?”
“Perhaps we worried you would do what we have done, go into hiding, run away. There were any number of ways you could have reacted, but most importantly we didn’t want you to suffer any more than you already had.”
“But I . . . I wouldn’t have, Benjamin.” She looked up at him and there were tears in her eyes again. Only this time, he saw the resignation in her body, the understanding and, dare he hope, the forgiveness.
He went to her, unable to bear another moment without having her in his arms again. “I know that now, my love, and I’m so sorry . . . for everything. You didn’t deserve to be lied to, and you certainly didn’t deserve the horrific things I said to you that night.”
“I said some pretty awful things too,” she admitted. “And I was very wrong. I-I feel terrible for what I said about your father—”
He put a finger to her lips. “Please, Phoebe, let us not relive it.”
“But I never should have said that, no matter how angry I was. They were horrible accusations, and—”
“And partially true.”
She shook her head, the guilt in her eyes more than he could bear. They had said things in anger, both of them, that they should not have said. He wanted to forgive and forget and move on.
“I never should have asked you to sell your house.”
“Perhaps not . . . but I did, anyway.”
She pulled back a bit and stared up at him, an astonished look in her fathomless brown eyes. “You what?”
“I sold it. I care too much about you, about this marriage, to have any point of contention between us.” He took a deep breath and prepared to tell her more of the truth. “I sent a letter to Lillian.”
Her sleek muscles tensed beneath his hold, so he continued in hopes of reassuring her.
“I couldn’t just ignore her. I had assumed responsibility for her, and, yes, it was wrong of me to keep that from you, but I felt I at least owed her an explanation. So I told her about you, and I informed her that she needed to leave . . . that I was no longer her protector.”
Phoebe didn’t say anything to this. He wondered if she was hurt by the fact he’d sent Lillian a personal note, or if she even trusted that he was telling the truth about the letter’s contents. He didn’t have to wonder for long, though.
“Thank you,” she said as she threw her arms around his middle and squeezed tightly. He knew she was thanking him, not for ridding his life of Lillian or for selling the house, but for telling her the truth. And that gave him an incredible sense of satisfaction.
“Benjamin?” she asked a moment later, her voice muffled against his chest.
“What is it?”
“Am I ‘your love’?”
He wanted to laugh at the uncertainty in her voice, for it was surely unwarranted. Instead he tipped her head back and kissed her, tasting the salty tears, reveling in the unique soft smell of her, his wife. “I will never, ever lie to you again. You have my word. However, on the topic of your mother and Wallace, that is something you will have to take up with her. I love you, my darling.”
She threw her arms around his neck. He lifted her off the ground in a firm embrace. “I love you, too!” she said, and his heart swelled until it was so full he thought it might burst.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t much time to enjoy the moment, for they heard a distinct scraping across the wooden floor below them in the parlor. They pulled away and stared at one another.
“I completely forgot about our guest,” Phoebe said. “But we don’t want him running off now, do we?”
“Certainly not.” He kissed her quickly on the forehead and then started for the door. “You stay here until I ensure his immobility.”