Breena crouched down in front of Phoebe, her wide spring-green skirts forming an inflated circle around her. Breena rolled down Phoebe’s hose. Her touch was warm and comforting, her expression pleased. “The scar is practically gone. How’s the pain?”
Phoebe had to think about it for a second before answering because it had been the farthest thing from her mind. “The pain stopped weeks ago.”
Lucia sat on Phoebe’s right, putting an arm around her shoulders. “I know you miss Slade, but you will make yourself sick if you continue like this. Has he written?” Lucia asked.
Phoebe let the crown of her head dip, too heavy to hold up. “No. I am sure he is taken up with work. But, not knowing if he’s well, all these weeks, is torture,” she whispered.
“I’m sure once he’s taken care of your former employer he’ll be back. These things take time.” Lucia said.
Phoebe blinked confusedly at Lucia. Had Slade told Lucia about Bolingbroke? “My former employer?” Phoebe asked.
“Why, yes. Slade asked for an introduction to my father’s friend, Magistrate Higgins, so he could make a formal complaint against your former employer. Didn’t he tell you?”
“Oh … yes. Of course,” Phoebe said, recovering, then adding. “But I don’t know if he will return. He’s not happy with … with our marriage.”
Lucia frowned. “Not happy? Why would you think that?”
Phoebe let out a weary breath, not being able to elaborate further without telling Lucia that Slade was worried about her dangerous lifestyle with the Movement. “He said we must discuss our marriage. He was displeased with it,” Phoebe said.
Lucia stood, going towards the food tray. “Slade loves you. He can never keep that dark smoldering gaze of his off you. Whatever the problem is, you two will find a solution. You simply have to work together, and compromise. For two people so in love, problems are not impossible to solve. Difficult maybe, but never impossible. Now please eat so I can stop worrying about you,” Lucia said, her bottom lip pushing out in an endearing pout as she held out a small dish with a scone.
Phoebe attempted a smile. Not wanting to disappoint her friend she reluctantly took the scone. She bit into it, ignoring the fact that it tasted like sand, she chewed and swallowed.
CHAPTER 69
After Breena finished applying the salve to fade the scar, she tugged up Phoebe’s hose and dropped down the hem of her skirt. “Lucia is right. It’s clear to everyone you and Slade MacLean are terribly in love,” Breena said.
Phoebe let Breena’s clear confident tone sink in. Her chest expanded, even as gooseflesh rose on her skin.
“My Peter was just saying yesterday, he knows Slade well enough to know he would do anything for you, Phoebe, which is why he went to Birmingham,” Lucia said, sitting back down on Phoebe’s right.
Breena took Phoebe’s hand in hers, her touch gentle but firm. Her bright tawny eyes closely considered Phoebe. “I don’t mind admitting that I was worried for you on your wedding night. You seemed so nervous, even terrified. Or maybe it was my imagination. I immediately voiced my concern to Egan, but he assured me Slade MacLean was an honorable and courageous man, that he would never cause harm to the woman he loved. He also said your husband had a nauseatingly over-inflated sense of what was right and wrong. And he would always protect you, even at great risk to himself. I am happy to see Egan was correct. Whatever the reason for Slade’s extended absence, itisn’t because he doesn’t want to be with you, or that he doesn’t love you,” Breena said to Phoebe.
Phoebe swallowed back the intense emotion that engulfed her. She’d always known Slade’s honorable qualities, of course. Perhaps this was where her jealousy of Sylvia started over a decade ago. She had yearned to be the woman he loved, to be the object of his passion, intensity, love and protectiveness. Phoebe had wanted Slade for herself.
And Breena didn’t know how accurate her imagination about the wedding night had been. Or perhaps she did know. Breena’s intuition not only surprised her, it left her quite speechless.
“Thank you. I am so grateful my brother is marrying you,” Phoebe said. “How is Egan? How are my parents?”
Breena sat on the bed to the left of Phoebe. “Egan and I are trying to agree on a date for our wedding. He wants a spring wedding, but I want it to be in the summer.”
Genuine emotion stretched Phoebe’s lips up for the first time in weeks. “My brother is nothing if not pigheaded. But I am at your disposal for anything you need, be it help with invitations, planning, going through wedding patterns, or hitting my brother over the head until he agrees to your terms.”
Breena laughed. “I may need you to do just that. And I’d love for you and Lucia to be my bridesmaids. My dear friend Eva has already given herself the maid of honor distinction.”
Lucia squealed in delight just as Phoebe embraced Breena, and Lucia ended up embracing them both in turn.
“This is so exciting! I love weddings, and I am really good with sewing patterns, and flower arrangements,” Lucia said, her tone high with excitement.
After Lucia and Breena exchanged a few words on the latest wedding patterns, Phoebe looked from Lucia to Breena.
“How goes it at Eileanach?” Phoebe said, her spirits lifting for the first time in weeks.
Lucia, who’d been staying at Eileanach Castle with Peter while they concluded various arms deals for Hortons, was the first to speak. “Your parents are well; they do seem eager for you and Slade to have children. I think they yearn to be grandparents.”
Phoebe recalled her mother’s visit during her recovery, when she’d said the very same thing Lucia was now saying. None of her family or friends knew about Faye Ross and the Movement, except Slade. They all thought her horse had just gone wild, kicking her and fracturing her leg.
Her own accidental meeting with Mistress Willoughby popped into Phoebe’s head. The stark declaration from the woman’s lips still shook Phoebe to her core. My Sylvia was the illegitimate daughter of General Bolingbroke.Afterword, parts of a puzzle seem to fall out of place. She’d thought Slade hated Bolingbroke for killing his friend, Isaac, Raghnall and Margaret’s only son, and that he was possibly conducting a mission for the Movement which spies weren’t supposed to discuss, even with fellow spies. But now learning that Bolingbroke was Sylvia’s father, she realized she had been mistaken.
