Aila gave a spirited nod. “I’d be delighted to, Mistress.”
Later, after a quick search, Phoebe found Lucia sitting on a cross-backed wooden chair in Eileanach’s apothecary, sipping from a fine white teacup. She’d sought her friend out hoping for commiseration on her likely marriage to Slade. Phoebe’s eyes widened at the midday light permeating the colorful stained-glass window, lighting gleaming shelves with more majolica jars and glass bottles than she recalled from the last time she’d been here. There were a number of improvements, like new wooden apothecary chests and countertops filled with freshly dried herbs. There wasn’t a speck of dust now, like there had been when she was growing up.
Last night when she had been introduced to Breena MacRae, Egan’s betrothed, there’d been mentioned she was a healer and an expert on medicinal plants and herbs.
Phoebe’s eyes were drawn to Breena, who stood behind a countertop tying sprigs of fresh herbs together to be hung for drying.
Phoebe gestured to her surroundings. “Are you responsible for all this? It’s a vast improvement from when I was in here last.”
Breena sent her a bemused glance. “For such a grand and illustrious castle as Eileanach, there was a shocking lack of attention given to the apothecary when I first arrived. I made it my mission to stock up.”
Breena was a stunning woman, with her long, raven-black hair, her creamy complexion, and her slender figure, at the moment showcased by a simple but elegant open-draped gownwith an exposed petticoat in dark burgundy. There was a quiet sort of grace with the way she carried herself.
What was such a woman doing with her overbearing, mutton-headed oaf of a brother? An unbidden unladylike sound escaped Phoebe’s lips. Irritation at her brother for his handling of Slade needled her.
CHAPTER 38
Lucia straightened in her chair eying Phoebe with interest. “Is everything all right?”
Phoebe walked over to the wooden chair next to Lucia’s and sank down. “My parents are adamant I marry Slade, since Egan reported to them what took place at the Black Hog’s. They are not willing to discuss it,” Phoebe said.
“Oh. What are you going to do?” Lucia asked, her eyes widening.
Phoebe gave a hopeless shrug. “Maybe I’ll run away to hide in a convent. Or find a position as a governess and leave the Highlands.”
She was being outlandish of course. But then again, maybe not.
Concern etched its way into Lucia’s features. “You can always return to Birmingham with me.”
Phoebe sent Lucia an appreciative smile. “Thank you. You are kind. But I have to think. And quick—my parents mentioned a special marriage license. They are not going to wait for the reading of the banns,” Phoebe said.
Lucia looked askance at Phoebe. “Have you heard from the colonel?”
Phoebe’s gaze dropped, worrying her left thumb and pointing finger. “I have not.”
Her plan to avoid hurt these past seven years burnt to ashes around Slade. She was not hearing the warning bells anymore. Her blood, bones and entire body wanted him. Her soul wanted his soul. He would never harm her body, but as her husband it would be his right to control her, and that would destroy her. She wanted Slade but was terrified of what would come of it.
Lucia silently set aside her teacup and saucer, and put a light hand on Phoebe’s shoulder, a patient smile stretching her lips. “The colonel has been a kind and true friend to you and is quite handsome. He is a fine catch. Would it be so terrible to be his wife?”
Lucia’s opinion of Slade seemed to have improved during their journey to the Highlands, for right after seeing the beautiful Swindlehurst and Slade together in Birmingham’s Jewelry Quarter, she’d been quite disapproving.
Breena, who had been eying them both, offered Phoebe a fresh cup of tea from the tea service on the countertop.
Phoebe took the cup obligingly and shook her head to refuse the offered honey. The fresh, sweet scent of the chamomile teased her nose, as she took a few sips and then surrendered to the calm settling in her stomach. She turned to Lucia, then to Breena. “Every part of me rebels against giving up control of my life to a husband.”
A well-formed brow arched on Breena’s features. “It is maddening, isn’t it? We as women are under the control of our fathers or husbands. We cannot enjoy much of the freedom men have. We cannot go to universities, are dissuaded from speaking our minds or becoming too learned. We cannot operate lands if we are lucky enough to own them and in the few professions women are allowed, we are not afforded equal wages.”
Phoebe couldn’t help but appreciate the irony of Breena’s situation, for she would soon be married to Egan.
Lucia sat up straight in her chair. “My Peter is honorable and kindhearted, and I love him. I love being his wife. I don’t see it as control in the least.”
Phoebe narrowed her eyes at her friend. Despite the fact Lucia was generous and sweet-natured, she had to remind herself they were from different worlds.
“If women were allowed to be in charge of all aspects of their own lives, they wouldn’t be hurting anyone, would they? I look forward to being in charge of my own home and managing how and where the income comes from as a married woman,” Breena said in a mild manner.
Puzzlement snaked Phoebe’s insides. “But you are getting married … giving up control of your life to my brother.”
Breena threw her an unperturbed glance as she returned to tending to her herbs. “Well, yes. I love Egan. I want to marry him and share my life with him. I, like Lucia, don’t see it as being controlled. But even if it was, giving up control is freeing, with the one you love and trust.”
