“Itispossible,” Lady Dodge whispered hurriedly, taking her hand again. “I have heard of many ladies that do such things. They flee their husbands and then file for separation through a lawyer later.”
“My husband would never permit such a thing, not for me to leave.”
“That is why you do not tell the husband,” Lady Dodge said with another smile. Phoebe’s lips parted in amazement, realizing the audacity of her friend’s suggestion.
“I would be running away?” she asked.
“Why not? Do you not wish to do it?”
She thought long and hard about the words, with her gaze flicking around the room. She looked between many women who hung on their husband’s arms, most of them were smiling, infinitely happier than she had ever been standing beside her husband. Then her gaze landed on Graham on the other side of the room, and she remembered the pressure of his hand on her throat, and the fear of how far he could go to hurt her one day.
“More than anything,” she sighed with the words.
“Then let me help you,” Lady Dodge pulled on her hand, urging Phoebe to look back to her.
“Lady Dodge, be serious,” Phoebe almost laughed. “It is fun to talk of. It is certainly wonderful to imagine it, but in practicality it would only incur my husband’s wrath more. I am quite simply trapped.”
“Then allow me to help you out of the trap,” Lady Dodge took another step toward her with her expression completely serious. “Of course, if one were to do such a thing half-heartedly, it could be a disaster. Yet if it is well planned, if it is truly wanted, then of course you can escape him. You could escape these bruises and never have to suffer at his hand again. Is it truly wanted?”
Phoebe found herself saying the words without much more thought, for she knew the answer instinctively. She wanted to be far away from the bruises, she wanted to be free of fear.
“It is,” she said, feeling the tears that had swelled in her eyes earlier that evening threatening to take her again. She blinked them away, aware that Lady Dodge was squeezing her hand in comfort. “But I do not know what to do to achieve it,” she tried to turn her thoughts to practicalities. “My father would never offer any help, that I know for certain.”
“I am offering you help,” Lady Dodge said, bouncing on her toes with an artful smile now in place. “This evening, you could make an excuse to return home sooner than your husband, complain of a headache, or soreness from your bruises. He could hardly argue with that.” At her words, Phoebe winced, all too aware of the pain in the throat. “Urge that lovely maid of yours to pack you a bag and I shall send my carriage for the two of you. Tonight, you can stay at my house.”
“You would do that?” Phoebe abruptly felt hope swell in her stomach. Her friend was offering her a lifeline, a way out of the incessant misery she was suffering.
“Of course, I would,” Lady Dodge said, as though the matter were already decided upon. Phoebe was about to grow excited when a thought occurred to her, dampening that hope.
“Ah, there is just one problem,” she bit her lip.
“Which is?”
“The Viscount knows of our friendship,” Phoebe whispered. “I do not doubt that when he found I was missing, he would search your house.”
“Then we must think of somewhere else to hide you,” Lady Dodge said, tapping a finger on her punch glass as she screwed up her nose in thought. “Oh, I have just had an idea. It is quite brilliant! I think you’ll be impressed by how clever I am this evening.”
Phoebe couldn’t help the laughter that fell from her lips, delighted by her friend’s mannerisms.
“First, I must speak to another about this,” Lady Dodge went to walk away when Phoebe tightened her hand on her friend.
“We cannot speak to anyone else about this,” she said quickly. “If this is to work, no one else must know.”
“Trust me,” Lady Dodge said with a whisper. “Someone else must know. Now, wait here. I will be back very soon.” As she hurried off through the crowd of guests, darting her head back and forth, Phoebe nearly followed her instruction. For a minute, she stayed perfectly still, until she noticed her punch glass was empty with just a few scarlet red dregs left in the cup.
Well, that just won’t do.She made up her mind quickly and crossed the room again, hurrying toward the punch table. She poured herself another cup and was about to turn away from the table when she bumped into something. No, not something.Someone!
The punch went everywhere, all over not only her dress, but the clothes of the person beside her too. Phoebe gasped and looked up with fear when she found a pair of blue eyes staring down at her, rather like Lady Dodge’s eyes, only more startling and set within a handsome face.
The jawline was strong and the features rather narrow, though a smile played upon those lips. The black hair over his forehead curled softly, tantalizingly so. The suit was a fine one too, as black as his hair with a midnight blue waistcoat, a few shades darker than the color of his eyes.
Who is that?
Chapter 3
“Oh my! I am so sorry. I cannot apologize enough,” the young woman before Francis was apologizing profusely as she stepped away and hurried to grab napkins off the table beside her.
Francis was startled as a laugh fell from his lips.
