I fail to see how I could be freer!’
‘Playing dubious parlour games? Spooking horses? Relying on strangers to help you withspots of bother?’ Phoebe challenged, shrugging off Sophie’s warning hand. ‘Oh, yes, I can see why those adventures would capture any heroine’s imagination! Tell me, when was the last time you made arealdecision?’
‘I have as much freedom as I want!’ Aurelia fired back. ‘If I wish to … race phaetons at dawn, I can and I will!’
‘Done!’ Phoebe glowered.
‘Phoebe?’ Sophie enquired nervously.
‘Name the day!’ Aurelia growled.
‘A race to the death!’ Josephine nodded approvingly, her eyes shining.
‘Phoebe, I really think…’ Sophie tried again.
‘Sunday. Name the route!’ Phoebe demanded.
‘Pulteney Bridge, Great Pulteney Street, Sydney Gardens – finish at the Sydney Hotel,’ Aurelia reeled off without drawing breath. ‘A dawn meet and a fifty-pound stake, unless you wish to apologise! You forget, there is more than one way to win!’
Then she swept away, leaving Phoebe to Sophie’s wide-eyed despair.
‘Oh, Phoebe.’ She shook her head. ‘What if Thomas hears of it? Or the earl?!’
‘They won’t,’ Phoebe seethed, lifting her chin. ‘Besides, you heard Aurelia: it’s a matter of honour now. She issued a challenge, and I can’t not meet it.’
‘When will you see that you don’t have toactlike a man, to know you are as courageous as one?’ Sophie despaired. ‘Especially when the stakes are so high? Aurelia’s parents are members of the haute ton, with connections enough to hush anything up. But you? If this comes out, Thomas will cut you off – or worse! You’re risking everything for someone who could fit all they know about heroism into a snuffbox! You must apologise, before it’s too late.’
ChapterTwenty-Three
Two weeks, six days, and lying to herself until the wedding
‘All I’m saying is that it’s still not too late,’ Sophie whispered, passing Phoebe another cool, wrung out cloth.
‘You could write to her, say you never intended to offend, and that you both have extremely good reasons to avoid this madness. It’s not as though you even own a phaeton for goodness’ sake…’
They both paused as Josephine descended into a severe coughing fit that made her grip the coverlet until her knuckles whitened.
‘Can you pass the honey and ginger?’ Phoebe frowned, counting under her breath. ‘Also, open the window and ask Cook for some wild garlic leaves … and, I think, send for Dr Kapoor. We need a second opinion this time.’
She gazed at Josephine’s pale face, at the bluish tinge around her lips, and the cold beads of sweat around her hairline. She’d managed so many of Josephine’s lung seizures, but this one had been brewing since the picnic, and her fever was more stubborn than any Phoebe had seen in a long while.
‘What about Dr Cox?’ Sophie frowned. ‘He knows Josephine.’
‘Dr insulate-everything-that-moves? No, I think we need fresh thinking. Could you write a note to Captain Elliot, perhaps? Ask him to contact Dr Kapoor, urgently? They’re … good friends I believe.’
‘Yes, of course.’ Sophie’s tired eyes lit up at the thought of having a legitimate reason to dash the captain a note at midnight. ‘I’ll go this minute… But Phoebe, please consider what I’ve been saying. Our presentation is at the Assembly Ball the night before the race. You should be waking up to flowers and congratulations, not a race to the death! Just imagine Thomas’s wrath if he finds out. It’s the very worst timing.’
Phoebe held the glass of tonic against Josephine’s dry and cracked lips, before looking up.
‘I imagine any wrath on Thomas’s part will be entirely connected to whether or not I can still make the wedding,’ she muttered, raising her eyebrows.
‘Phoebe…’
‘Dr Kapoor, Sophie,’ Phoebe insisted. ‘And anyway,’ she added with a faint smile, ‘I came to Bath seeking adventure; what better way to leave it than with a race in the name of freedom? Perhaps, one day, I might even consider myself heroic!’
‘But you already are,’ Sophie sighed, closing the door behind her.
* * *
