Mistress Horton pressed her startlingly white gloved hand to her chest, blushing. Peter’s wife placed the fashionable portmanteau she’d been carrying on the long table then came forward, taking both of Phoebe’s hands in her own.
“Please call me Lucia. Where is your bedchamber?”
Half an hour later, Phoebe pressed her palms against her ears as everything in the chamber spun around. She stared tongue-tied at the contents of the portmanteau that were now laid out on the bed, various items of colorful clothing, undergarments, and personal effects.
“When Peter said you not only had to make a hasty departure from your employer’s home after you found out what bad sorts they were, but that you hadn’t had time to pack, I said to myself, I must help,” Lucia said.
“But … but this is beyond generous,” Phoebe said, sounding breathless to her own ears.
“These are yours to use for as long as you wish. You are but a few inches taller than I am. Otherwise, the size is quite similar. My Peter surmised my gowns may fit you.”
Lucia held up an emerald-green muslincontouchegown next to Phoebe, then beamed.
“Most becoming. Now, take those hideous garments off so I can assist you into this,” Lucia said.
While Phoebe was grateful to Lucia, she bit down on her lip and actively refrained from crossing her hands over her chest after donning the gown. The overpowering urge to rip the shockingly revealing gown off her body warred with her need not to offend Peter’s wife. Its low-cut bodice was far too revealing.
At least the gown wasn’t red. Phoebe thanked all the saints for that. Since her attack, the color red made her break out in a sweat. Red was the one color she would never don again, ever—the color of Ross’s uniform.
After Lucia helped her to snugly wrap and knot the bandages around her palm and the back of each hand, she also assisted Phoebe with brushing out her hair. As Lucia then put up the sleek strands in a chignon, Phoebe spoke of her childhood and first meeting Slade while he fostered with Egan.
“In the Highlands, clan lairds often send their sons for training or fostering with warlords to prepare them for their duties as men. They forge bonds with other clans, train with various weaponry, acquire knowledge on how to do battle, manage their own clans, various livestock and farming plusthey are given an enviable education in the process,” Phoebe explained.
Then Lucia described how she first met Peter, who was currently with Slade just outside the lodge tending to the horses. He came into her father’s apothecary on Loveday Street years ago. Then the tangible air of wealth surrounding Lucia made sense.
“Is your father either Allen or Hanbury of Allen and Hanbury’s apothecary?” Phoebe asked. That establishment was well known and thriving.
“My Father is a Hanbury.” Lucia brightened.
After Lucia was finished with her hair, Phoebe rose and walked over to the mirror. Her hand went up to cover her mouth as her eyes widened at her own reflection. Her appearance was head-turning. Weakness slithered down her body, bringing on a slight queasiness in her belly.
CHAPTER 20
For the eventide meal at the lodge, the cook laid out food in various dishes on the sideboard across from the long table. The prominent aroma of the meat and leek soup made Phoebe’s mouth water, reminding her she hadn’t eaten all day.
As Phoebe stood by the table, her hands resting on the back of a chair, she glanced at Slade across the table. He had just popped opened a bottle of wine with a polished motion of his hands. He hadn’t said a word to her, hadn’t even looked at her since he’d made an appearance. She couldn’t blame him, after the way she’d reacted in her bedchamber earlier.
Phoebe was unable to pull her eyes away from Slade, taking in his square, clean-shaven jaw. He was dressed for dinner in thigh-hugging gray breeches and a crisp white Cambria shirt, his neck missing a cravat.
The play of shadows on the angular lines of his face, cast by the flickering light of the candelabra, emphasized his breathtakingly handsome features.
Lucia shifted from dish to dish, a few feet away at the sideboard. “I am very much looking forward to keeping company with you at the lodge, Phoebe. I think it will be great fun for thetwo of us. A chance to get to know each other even better, as it were.” Lucia’s tone was conversational as she topped off her plate of food with an apple tart.
Phoebe hadn’t touched the fruit in seven years. Ross’s apple scented pomatum had made her cast up her accounts that night on the moors. But then again, it had been the least of the reasons for her losing her stomach content. She shook the recollection away when Lucia eyed her, expectantly.
“I very much look forward to spending time with you as well,” Phoebe said.
Lucia’s expression brightened as she set her plate of food down on the table across from Peter who, without hesitation, got up to help her with a chair.
Phoebe sensed Slade’s approach from behind.
She swung around to see his handsome face lined with worry and regret. Her eyes dipped the length of him, taking in his tall riding boots. They were polished to a gleaming shine, another one of his military habits.
“I sincerely apologize for my behavior earlier,” he whispered. “It pains me to think I caused you distress. Forgive me?”
Phoebe shook her head, her heart squeezing at his thoughtful words. “No, no, it is I who must apologize for my overreaction. I was simply exhausted and not myself.”
His eyes were warm and searching as they considered her before speaking. “Well, then, perhaps we may endeavor to forget the entire episode?”
