“Do not play coy with me.” Agitated, Fiona sat up. It was not enough, so she stood, and when that failed to quiet her jangling nerves, she began to pace. “You will have to leave, Phoebe. I forbid you to be in love with him. Distance will help you see him more clearly, and you will be gratified that I stepped in to save you from yourself.”
Phoebe set the book aside and folded her hands in her lap. Her eyes, not her head, tracked Fiona’s movements. She did not respond directly to what was said; instead she advanced her terms. “You need to tell me what happened between you and Remington to make you revile him. I will not leave without hearing it from you. Tell me what he did.”
Fiona made a small huffing noise at the back of her throat. “The last time you put that question to me, you asked what I had done to him. It is small gratification that you recognize the shoe is on the other foot.”
“I am not asking a question now,” said Phoebe. “Tell me.”
Fiona stopped pacing so suddenly that she seemed to vibrate before she went completely still. “You will not like it.”
“That is the one thing of which I am certain, and it does not matter. Tell me.”
Fiona’s bosom rose with the fullness of the breath she took. She spoke as that same breath rushed out of her. “He propositioned me.”
“Propositioned?”
“He wanted me in his bed. Is that plain enough for you? I am his father’s wife and he wanted to fuck me.”
Without inflection, Phoebe said, “That certainly is plain speaking.”
“You’re a cool one, aren’t you, Phoebe?”
“I don’t know what you mean. It’s rather a lot to take in. I don’t want to make hasty judgments.”
“What are you saying? You wanted to know what happened, and I told you. I sincerely hope you are not judging me. I am the wronged party.”
Phoebe nodded, though not in response to what Fiona said. “Why do you suppose he did it? Proposition you, I mean.”
“Why did he—” Fiona could not finish, not just then. She took a steadying breath and went on as evenly as she was able. “Why did he want me in his bed? Could you possibly be more insulting? Why wouldn’t he want me?”
Phoebe stared at her. “Of course that was a slight against you, Fiona. How could I have meant anything else by it? You are offended if a man doesn’t show interest in you.” Fiona opened her mouth to speak, but Phoebe cut her off. “Let us say I believe you—because I don’t doubt that you believe yourself—can you not imagine another reason besides your devastatingly fine face and figure that a man like Remington might want to compromise you?”
Fiona’s eyes widened fractionally. She said nothing.
“Perhaps he hoped the two of you would be found out and Thaddeus would send you packing. Or perhaps it was Remington who wanted to go and couldn’t find the courage to say as much. Maybe he hoped his father would send him on his way. Could you consider either of those possibilities? No? Then I’m certain you are right. He must have wanted to fuck you because he is a man and that is what men do because they are helpless when confronted by their baser needs. You told me that, remember?”
Fiona shook her head. She clasped her hands together because they were trembling. Her denial was barely audible. “I never.”
“You did, but I have always believed it was in aid of arming me with knowledge meant to protect me. You still don’t remember? Think back to Alistair Warren. You beat him bloody with his cane, drove him out of the theater. You explained the facts of what happened to me later. Mr. Warrenwas acting according to his nature; therefore, it would always fall to me to seize control. That is what I’ve observed you doing, Fiona, so it is difficult for me to imagine that in any encounter you had with Remington, you were not the one with the upper hand.”
“You have a knack for twisting my words, Phoebe. You twist everything to suit your perspective.”
“That’s interesting,” said Phoebe. “Do you know the one about the pot calling the kettle black?”
Fiona curled her upper lip, not amused. “Go back to New York, Phoebe. I cannot abide you remaining here while Remington poisons you against me. We are better friends, you and I, when we are not breathing the same air.”
“And there, in a nutshell, is the fundamental difference in our perspectives. It has always been you who insisted that we be friends. I don’t think we are. I don’t think we can be. I blame myself for that. I know now that I held out too long hoping you would want to be anything else.” Phoebe stood and squarely met Fiona’s gaze. “But then, you always said I was stubborn. I intend to remain so. I am not leaving, Fiona. I want to stay here even if it means we must breathe the same air.”
Phoebe smiled. The effort was faint and forced, and she wished she had not tried. “Excuse me.”
Fiona reached out but was too far away to stop her. “Wait, Phoebe. Please.”
Phoebe’s step faltered. She shook her head and kept going.
It was Remington who ruined her exit, not that she had intended a stagy departure, but she had hoped for a dignified one. He caught her by the upper arms and steadied her before she walked straight into his chest. It was indicative of the state of his mind when he did not apologize. She looked up at him. His dark eyes were not implacable now. She saw very well that he was troubled.
“What is it?” she asked. “What’s happened?”
He didn’t answer her. Instead, he looked past her to Fiona. “Would you mind leaving us?”
