‘We should be delighted!’ his brother returned, overriding the objection.
Phoebe inhaled silently. She could hardly blame her sisters’ excitement. The captain’s smile was clearly disarming, and his dancing eyes full of mischief, too, but the viscount was the last person with whom she wished to spend time. An echo of his ridicule in the modiste’s reached through her thoughts, and she bristled instantly.
What gave him the right to make his opinion so evident? He held no authority over her or any of them, nor was likely to anytime soon.
She glanced at Sophie, who was dimpling far more than necessary, as they joined the busy main path.
‘Do the Misses Fairfax like to ride?’ the captain enquired, proffering an arm to Sophie, who happily fell into step beside him. ‘If so, I can certainly recommend Prior Park, especially before breakfast.’
‘Oh, do call us by our first names, Captain Elliot,’ Sophie insisted. ‘The Misses Fairfax makes us sound like old governesses!’
She trilled off into a frivolous laugh while Phoebe glared at the back of her animated head, thinking all sorts of uncharitable thoughts.
‘Is riding of interest to yourself, Miss Fairfax?’ came a much quieter enquiry. ‘Or perhaps I should ask if your shoulder has recovered sufficiently yet?’
Startled, Phoebe glanced up to discover that the viscount had fallen in beside her, leaving Josephine and Matilda to bring up the rear of the party with their beaming aunt and uncle. She drew a deep breath, starkly aware that the proximity between them might yet prompt him to realise that she was the fast widow who’d led his betrothed astray.
‘I love to ride, and my shoulder is much recovered, thank you, sir,’ she returned stiffly. ‘I also like to climb trees, swim, and do all the things my brothers do, given half the chance!’ she added, lest he think her any less the girl he’d met on the roadside.
‘And I warrant are much better at such pursuits than they are, too,’ the viscount murmured.
Phoebe glanced up, but his expression was schooled.
‘I must own to being somewhat surprised that the picnic is one of your seasonal highlights,’ she frowned, after a beat. ‘It seems rather tame entertainment for a gentleman…’
‘Yes?’ he prompted.
Phoebe swallowed, his proximity was beginning to unnerve her.
‘For a gentleman of yoursophistication?’ she finished, recalling the way he’d threatened to withdraw his patronage at The Swan Inn.
A curious smile played around his lips.
‘Actually, I think you would find my tastes quitevariable,’ he returned, a gleam creeping into his eyes. ‘And, unlike balls, these gardens feature horses – which always have my distinct approval.’
‘Is that what brings you to Bath?’ she quizzed.
He paused to chuckle and, quite inexplicably, Phoebe caught her breath
‘Unfortunately, not,’ he returned. ‘I’m in Bath on family matters and will return to Ebcott Place when they are concluded.’
There was a moment of quiet while Phoebe fixed her gaze ahead, conscious of the oddest rush of feelings. Undoubtedly, he was speaking of his betrothal, and she was certain he and Aurelia would suit exceedingly well – which didn’t explain her agitation at all. Except that, perhaps, it made her think of her own wretched, forthcoming announcement.
‘You are fortunate that you have some control over your future,’ she commented, after a beat. ‘It is a privilege most ladies must forego.’
‘I am. Though in my experience, not all ladies wish foradventure, as you do.’ He frowned faintly, dark eyebrows arching.
‘Perhaps most gentlemen don’t wish for a young lady then,’ Phoebe retorted. ‘Perhaps they actually wish for a songbird they can admire and remove from its cage occasionally, so it can perform!’
‘Rather a songbird than a wife who doesn’t know how to behave!’ the viscount countered.
‘Marriage shouldn’t be a behaviour test!’ she flared. ‘And if a lady lacks imagination or adventure, it’s because she hasn’t been allowed to dream further than a respectable marriage. In my view, the frailer sex are rarely frail at all! We are just as curious, and just as capable, as any man, though some of the polite world would term us dangerous radicals for such thoughts.’
‘Indeed!’ he returned, his eyes glittering. ‘As evidenced by the success of your recent endeavours, I suppose.’
She felt a sudden scorch of heat reach across her cheeks.
‘And why shouldn’t I wear trousers and drink devil’s brew and duel if I so wish?’ she demanded. ‘Surely, I am just as capable of managing myself as any gentleman?’
