“You will?” Louisa asked, with a great smile on her cheeks.
“Yes, perhaps the gold necklace would be best?” she asked. Louisa nodded with eagerness and hurried off, back to the dresser before returning with a gold chain necklace and placing it around her neck.
“There, it fits perfectly.”
Phoebe smiled as she looked down at the dress. It was not dissimilar to the gown she had attempted to wear the night she had run away from Graham. Yet this gown was pastel pink in color, with a similar deep neckline and short sleeves. She was showing off more skin than she had done in a long time, thankful that a lot of her bruises were finally healing. With the gold chain around her neck, it matched the bracelet on her wrist perfectly, and complimented the small golden clips Louisa had placed in her hair to hold up a few loose curls.
“Beautiful,” Louisa said again, bringing another smile from Phoebe.
“Thank you,” she said softly as she stepped back from the mirror, knowing in her heart why she had taken such care over what she had worn that night. It was for Hayward.
“I’m sure he’ll like it, my Lady,” Louisa said quietly. The words made Phoebe hesitate and look back to him. “Don’t play innocent,” she giggled as she ushered Phoebe toward the door of the chamber. “I saw the two of you yesterday whilst we were shooting. The air practically crackled.”
“It did not!” Phoebe complained, but Louisa appeared not to be listening, pushing her out the door anyway.
“Go enjoy your dinner, my Lady. I am sure you will enjoy your company as well as the food.”
Phoebe tried to clamp her lips together to stop her smile, but it didn’t work. As she left Louisa and crossed the landing, heading toward the stairs, she was very aware of the smile on her features and the restless excitement with which she was walking toward the dining room. As she descended the stairs and walked into the dining room, she found Hayward had beaten her there.
He was walking up and down the dining room, his feet taking him back and forth beside the table. He appeared equally restless, unable to settle, fidgeting and scratching the back of his head. That was until she made a sound, clearing her throat a little to show she had entered the room. His gaze snapped up to her then.
“Your Grace,” she said, bobbing her usual curtsy.
“My Lady,” he said, bowing to her as he held her gaze. He took a step toward her across the room, the anxiousness in the move made her breath hitch, wondering if he would kiss her hand in such a way again.
Then there was movement behind her in the corridor. She turned and moved away as the butler stepped into the room, along with the servers carrying trays ready to serve their food. The appearance of others made Hayward step away as well, moving back to the head of the table, as though he had not been about to run to her side.
“Thank you, Carling,” Hayward said, nodding his head at the butler. “What have we got tonight?”
“Roasted venison, Your Grace,” Carling said as other trays and plates were brought in with steaming vegetables and potatoes. As the plates were set down on the table, Phoebe slowly walked around them, heading to her usual place beside Hayward.
He stepped forward right away, pulling out her chair in a kind way to help her sit down. She smiled at him her thanks, holding his gaze, unable to say words that had been lingering on her tongue for the last few hours, ever since she had gone on her ride earlier that day. As Hayward moved away, he dropped a hand down, brushing her arm softly. It was a brief thing, there one second, gone the next, but it brought a heat to her skin and made Phoebe’s eyes follow him as he turned to his own seat.
The servers moved away, leaving the room, though the butler lingered for a while.
“Claret, Your Grace?” Carling asked, placing two glasses down on the table for them.
“Thank you, yes,” Hayward said. Carling moved to the side of the room and collected a carafe of wine from a drinks cabinet before returning to the table and pouring the wine out for the two of them. “Thank you, Carling, that will be all.” The dismissal was polite, but an insistent one. The butler nodded politely and then moved away, heading toward the door.
Phoebe felt her body tense as she waited for the butler to leave. As soon as he had left, she turned her head to Hayward. Neither one of them seemed interested in food, their eyes were only on each other instead.
“You kissed my hand,” she said softly.
“Gentlemen often do kiss ladies’ hands,” he said mischievously with a small smile. She arched her eyebrows at him, showing exactly what she thought of his words.
“Not in that way!”
“Maybe not,” he accepted, sitting forward in his seat and leaning toward her. She found her own body leaning toward him, closing the distance between them. “Are you surprised? You have been flirting with me almost as much as I have with you.”
“Your Grace…” she paused, closing her eyes for a minute. “This is so complicated. What even isthis?”she asked, opening her eyes and gesturing between the two of them.
“I do not know,” he said softly. “I do not have words for it.” Yet he reached for her hand again, entwining their fingers together and pulling her toward him a little more. “All I know is that I seem to pin hopes on seeing you every day. I look to you in hope to see you smiling, happy, no longer afraid.”
He paused with the words as Phoebe itched forward in her chair toward him.
“What is it you see when you look at me?” he asked softly. The tone was teasing, yet his expression suggested he was truly serious. She leaned toward him a little more, still clasping tightly to his hand.
“I see the best man I have ever met,” she confessed. She couldn’t deny it. He had rescued her when she was in a dark place, and since then had spent every day determined to make her smile and keep her safe.
