Quite without warning, Phoebe felt a hot, hard ache in her throat and the pressure of tears at the back of her eyes. She answered Fiona’s question with a nod and a watery smile because it was all she could manage.
Fiona held out her free arm to Phoebe. “Will you comein now?” Her eyes darted to Remington. “She doesn’t have to take care of the horse, does she?”
“No, ma’am. She doesn’t have to do that. I’ll see to it.”
“Good. See, Phoebe, you can come inside now. Remington will take care of the horses.” She curled her fingers in invitation. “Do you need help dismounting? Help her, Thaddeus. Please?”
He released her hand and dropped down the steps. “Come here, Phoebe.”
She gave Remington Mrs. McCauley’s reins and levered herself off the mare, dropping easily into Thaddeus’s waiting arms. His hands tightened briefly on her waist and he dropped a kiss on her brow before he turned her over to Fiona.
“I’ll go with Remington,” Thaddeus said. “She’s yours.”
Fiona nodded. “Yes. She is.”
Chapter Twenty-four
“Did you tell him?” asked Phoebe. Hot water lapped at her breasts and curling ribbons of steam rose from the tub. She waved them away and slid deeper until the water almost touched her shoulders. Fiona sat on a padded stool beside the tub. Her fingers dangled in the water. Sometimes she made ripples. The soap floated toward Phoebe but she didn’t reach for it.
“No,” said Fiona. “I didn’t. I think he knows. Maybe he has all along, but it’s for me to say, isn’t it? Thaddeus is a good man that way. He waits for me. When I’m ready, I’ll tell him.” She slowly made a spiral in the water with her fingertip. “This is how he drizzles honey on a biscuit.” She made the spiral again. “He’s so particular about it. Very careful. He leaves his clothes all over the floor in the dressing room. How do you understand a man like that?”
Phoebe smiled, thinking of Remington’s wadded clothes on the line. “I don’t know. Who wrote ‘Woman’s at best a contradiction still’?”
“I think it was Pope.”
“Yes, that’s right. Well, he should not have been pointing fingers at our sex.”
“True,” said Fiona. “‘What a piece of work is man.’ That’s something worth pondering.”
Phoebe smiled wryly. “Especially when it’s so easily taken out of context.”
Fiona shrugged. “When it serves, it serves.” She glanced at the floor near the foot of the tub, where Phoebe’s clotheslay in a heap. Leaning over, she used a thumb and forefinger to pick up the chambray shirt. “Shall I burn this?”
Phoebe merely raised an eyebrow.
Fiona dropped it. “All right. I’d put it all away if it didn’t need a thorough washing. Everything smells like wood smoke. Your hair, too. I suppose that means you were able to keep warm.”
“Yes.” She did not elaborate.
“Where did you get these clothes?” She glanced at the pile again. “And the hat.”
“You know.’
“Hebought them for you, didn’t he?” When Phoebe was quiet, she said, “I suppose I did know. These were in the parcels and boxes we took right out of his hands, weren’t they? How you must have laughed when I helped you carry them. I recall adamantly opposing the purchase of items such as these.”
“I didn’t laugh, Fiona. Neither of us did.”
“Didn’t you? Well, you got what you wanted over my objections. It’s hard to believe he did not take special delight in it.”
Phoebe felt as if their fragile peace was fraying at the edges. She ducked under the water and stayed there until her hair was thoroughly wet. When she came up, she held out her hand for the soap, and Fiona obliged her by slapping the slippery bar in her palm. She worked up a lather and applied it to her hair.
“Why do you dislike him so?” she asked.
“He is rude. Arrogant. Unpleasant. Is that enough for you?”
“More than enough, I think.” Phoebe scrubbed her scalp and then soaped the rest of her hair. She twisted her hair into a rope, wound it on top of her head, and left the soapy crown there while she began to wash. “Will you tell me what you did to provoke him?” She gave a little start when Fiona slapped the water and sent competing waves in every direction. “Why did you do that?”
“Why? Why do you think? You put that ridiculousquestion to me, that’s why. It is offensive, Phoebe, that you believe I must have done something to goad him into behaving badly. I’ve known him a great deal longer than you, and while Thaddeus thinks his son can do no wrong, my view of his base nature is decidedly different.”
