And then there was the way he seemed almost to vouch for her, before he left.
‘Miss Fairfax’s courage, when faced with the Somerset Highwaymen, was something to behold indeed. Some may even have called it … heroic…’
‘…and are you even listening?!’ Sophie scowled, dragging her back to the clattering wheels and pale March sunshine.
Phoebe forced a smile.
‘Sorry, I was thinking of Misty.’
It was Sophie’s turn to roll her eyes.
‘There’s no point sighing over a horse you can’t ride, home or away,’ she chastised. ‘And besides, who needs a pony when there may be thoroughbreds in Bath?!’
Phoebe couldn’t help but chuckle.
‘And even if Thomas has written with the strictest chaperone instructions thatglueour amiable aunt to us day and night, do you think we might cross paths with morefashionable members of the ton at the Pump Room?’ Sophie added, with a twinkle.
‘Who knows?!’ Phoebe exhaled. ‘From what Harriet said, it will be filled with scheming mamas, their precious unmarried daughters, and ageing bachelors with gout – my speciality!’
‘Actually, there’s an ageing bachelor in my book, Colonel Brandon?’ Josephine sniffed, without looking up. ‘He doesn’t have gout and seems rather lovely.’
‘There are always exceptions,’ Phoebe conceded darkly, ‘but to my mind anyone above forty is counting the days until they’re scented of onions!’
‘In truth, I suspect the fashionable set won’t be looking to spend time with chits from the schoolroom,’ she murmured to Sophie, while the others laughed, ‘and even if one or two do notice us, they won’t number Viscount Damerel! He’s an abominable dandy and far too superior to seek out the company of a few country misses!’
‘He did help you out of a fix, though, Phoebs,’ Sophie cajoled, her eyes narrowing. ‘And it sounds as though your first meeting could have been misconstrued…’
‘Why else were you listening outside my parlour door? And three sheets to the wind, no less! Confess, if it hadn’t been for Briggs’s infamous cider, your intention was to appropriate…’
The viscount’s words echoed through Phoebe’s head, and she felt her hackles flare instantly.
‘He did what any decent human would do, who found an injured person on the roadside, and wasn’t completely devoid of scruples or moral inclination!’ she snapped. ‘I don’t afford him a hero’s cape because of that!’
‘Colonel Brandon found Marianne in the pouring rain,’ Josephine sniffed, ‘The Dashwoods thoughthewas pretty heroic.’
‘Well, Viscount Damerel is nothing like Colonel Brandon!’ Phoebe retorted. ‘AndI warrant he only stopped in the first place because there was a roadside audience!’
She coloured faintly, recalling the way the viscount’s swift action had both driven the highwayman away and prevented further injury. Yet he’d also been ready to take advantage of her vulnerability before discovering her identity… Far better her sisters thought him the dubious, dislikable dandy he’d already proven himself to be.
There was a brief silence before Josephine coughed, and then all thoughts of the viscount and the fashionable set were forgotten.
‘Are you warm enough, dearest?’ Sophie frowned anxiously. ‘Do you need another blanket? I do believe Matilda has enough for two shrimps!’
Phoebe watched as Sophie plied their younger sister with gloves, handkerchief, and herbal poultice to inhale, all of which the long-suffering Josephine accepted without complaint. They’d shared care of their sister since Mama passed, and she hadn’t had a lung spasm or infection in two years, which their doctor hailed as a near miracle. The last thing they needed was for Josephine to fall ill while they were in Bath.
‘You know, I do believe the waters will do you the power of good,’ Sophie cooed, tucking the blanket around Josephine with practised ease, while Phoebe quietly assessed her.
Sophie was the undisputed queen of fuss, but she alone had the knack of calming the worst of Josephine’s attacks, which had made her both fortunate and indispensable. Happily, their sister looked a good, healthy colour today.
‘And while you and Phoebe are recuperating, Matilda and I can keep watch for any caped Colonel Brandons – unscented, of course!’
The coach filled with more laughter, as Phoebe settled back to watch the sunlit, springtide hedgerows speed by. Sometimes she wished her sisters a thousand miles away, and sometimes she wasn’t sure she could breathe without them.
ChapterEight
Eight weeks and one pair of parasol pirates until the wedding
Aunt and Uncle Higglestone lived in a bourgeois villa, in a bourgeois street, in the most bourgeois part of Bath, and Phoebe couldn’t love them more for it if she tried.
