‘Oh, my goodness! What did you say?’ Sophie breathed, her eyes as round as saucers as they stared up at the semi-ellipse of grand houses on the Royal Crescent.
‘I told him he was neither my guardian nor my brother, and how I spent my time was of no concern to him … which only made it a hundred times worse,’ Phoebe replied, her cheeks reddening at the memory of the previous disastrous evening. ‘I think we can safely say the viscount considers me the oddest, adventure-seeking harlot alive, with frogs’ eggs for brains.’
Sophie started to gurgle with laughter.
‘Well, odd adventure seeker I’ll allow, but harlot and frogs’ eggs is definitely a stretch!’
She eyed her sister curiously.
‘But he must have said something else? Before he put you in his carriage?’ She suppressed another laugh, likely at the thought of the infuriated viscount handing Phoebe into his crested carriage, clutching two halves of a dress and a widow’s cap.
Phoebe closed her eyes and shuddered.
‘He was in every way most solicitous,’ she muttered.
‘Oh well, I suppose that’s good…’ her sister began doubtfully.
‘No! Not good!’ Phoebe hissed. ‘He is the most arrogant, condescending, obnoxious person I’ve ever met! His eyes…’
‘Yes?’ Sophie waited, watching Josephine and Matilda run down the crescent green, bonnet ribbons streaming.
‘His eyes made every personal judgement it is possible to make! He followed me backstage, just waiting for an opportunity to confront me! How much he must have enjoyed extricating me, in my petticoats, from a dress fight… He even called meMrs Smith…’
‘He put two and two together when he saw you with Aurelia in the Carlisle box,’ Sophie guessed, her eyes widening.
‘He must have,’ Phoebe groaned, wishing for the umpteenth time that morning that the ground would actually open up and swallow her whole.
‘You should tell him the truth, then.’ Sophie frowned. ‘That you were there for Aurelia!’
‘What? I may have frogs’ eggs for brains, but I am no betrothal wrecker! … No, I must avoid him, at all costs – forever.’
Phoebe stared after Matilda and Josephine, trying to ignore the violent twist of emotions in her core. So much for adventures – all they’d brought was ignominy and embarrassment. Perhaps the most heroic thing she could do now was to get married, and spare her sisters any further possible disgrace.
‘But there’s still the Damerel dinner,’ Sophie murmured. ‘Thomas has given Aunt his permission for us to attend, on account of it being in Bath and a private family affair.’
Phoebe nodded, the viscount’s parting words echoing in her head as the twist tightened.
‘It’s time you left, lest I do something we all regret.’
‘And Aunt says she feels obliged to go,’ Sophie continued ‘on account of the viscount rescuing Matilda – and refusing a new suit…’
‘Then we will go to the dinner, and I will behave just as I ought,’ Phoebe returned, forcing a smile. ‘And that will be the end of our obligations.’
‘Do take care, Josephine, dear!’ Aunt Higglestone called, waving a kerchief from where she stood just a few paces behind Phoebe and Sophie. ‘We don’t wish to be calling Dr Cox this evening!’
‘A little light exertion will do her good, Aunt,’ Sophie reassured, watching her younger sisters startle a flock of pigeons before continuing their chase. ‘She’s been bedridden long enough.’
‘Oh, I do hope so,’ her aunt agreed fervently. ‘Speaking of health, Phoebe, dear, Thomas made an enquiry aboutyourrecuperation today. He also shared a few more details about your forthcoming nuptials!’
Sophie shot her silent sister a concerned glance.
‘He has received another visit from the earl, and they’ve settled on a wedding at the end of May. Just think, dearest, you’ll be a countess before the summer, and with all the fine dresses, jewels and horses any young lady could wish for. It is a triumph, indeed, and I know your dear Mama would have been so delighted for you! As I understand it, and on account of his age and health, the earl is going to request permission to wed quietly, and your brother has entrusted me with your honeymoon attire because…’
Their aunt rattled on, but Phoebe heard nothing pastthe end of May. Even by her own dazed calculations, that left little more than five weeks before her life was entirely over.
‘Oh, look, Aunt. Josephine has dropped her shawl!’ Sophie interjected suddenly. ‘We’ll go and retrieve it for her.’
She grabbed Phoebe’s arm and pulled her over the lawn towards their carefree younger sisters.
