“No,” she answered immediately and honestly.
Jones shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “But…you know the hour is early then, my lady.” He squinted at something behind her, and she realized that he must be looking toward the sun, tracking its progress as it crept higher in the sky.
“It is quite early, Jones,” Phoebe responded. She could hear the chipper sound of her own voice and quite liked the way the words bubbled out of her. She rushed on with renewed energy. “But I wish to speak with Lady Genevieve.” She turned to the side and slid past him. “I assume she is in her bedchambers.”
Jones followed her down the hall dutifully. “Lady Genevieve came in only a few hours ago. She told her maid that no one was to wake her before noon.”
Phoebe laughed lightly. “She will not mind if I disturb her sleep.”
“She… might,” Jones said quietly.
It was evident that he meant to do his best to discourage Phoebe from mounting the staircase and rushing to Genevieve’s bedchambers, and Phoebe admired him for his efforts.
But today, on this occasion, she simply could not contain her ebullience.
“I will apologize to her profusely,” Phoebe promised. She paused with one slipper on the bottom step and turned back to face Jones. She gave him what she meant to be a comforting smile. “I will be sure to tell Lady Genevieve that you tried your very best to dissuade me from interrupting her repose, Jones, but I was too stubborn to listen.”
“Thank you, Lady Phoebe.” Jones nodded, then turned and walked toward the kitchens.
Phoebe wasted no time. She dashed up the stairs, rounded the corner, and rushed to Genevieve’s bedchambers. She knew she ought to knock, but feared that in doing so, she might wake other members of the household. While Phoebe did not mind rousing her cousin at this early hour, she did not relish the idea of waking her uncle and having him question her.
Without giving the matter much more thought, Phoebe flung open the door, slipped into Genevieve’s room, and shut it quietly behind herself. She stood there for a moment, panting.
How exhilarating!
Quickly, she surveyed her cousin’s bedchambers. They were a mess. It looked as though Genevieve had come home from the ball last night and flung her clothing everywhere.
The gown she had worn, a white muslin frock with dainty flowers embroidered along the hemline, was pooled near the vanity. A pair of matching slippers had been kicked so that one was near the window and the other was poised near the dresser. There were hairpins stacked on top of that same dresser and a dusting of baby’s breath scattered everywhere.
When Phoebe’s eyes fell on her cousin, she noticed the way Genevieve had curled into a pillow and clutched the sheets tightly to her chin. For just a fraction of a second, a tingle of guilt made Phoebe want to turn about, leave the room, and come back another time. But then, she cast that feeling aside and embraced all the others which coursed through her veins.
I must tell her. I must share my news now!
Without further ado, Phoebe rushed to Genevieve’s bedside, crouched there and whispered, “Wake up, sweet friend. Wake up. I have such news.”
Genevieve’s eyelashes fluttered and then she sat bolt upright. Just as one might anticipate, the moment Genevieve was roused, questions began pouring from her mouth.
“What is it? Who is there?”
There was not a hint of grogginess in Genevieve’s speech. She was immediately awake, alert, and ready to pummel Phoebe with a barrage of questions.
“What time is it? How long have I been asleep?” She blinked hurriedly, then turned sharply to look at her cousin. “Phoebe?” She blinked again. “Is that you?”
“It is.” Phoebe beamed at her in the early morning light.
“But what are you doing here?” Genevieve pulled the covers up and made a show of flopping back against her pillows once more. “Do you not realize that I require my beauty sleep?”
Phoebe laughed. “You are beautiful enough, Cousin. And you may go back to sleep once I have shared my news with you.”
As if Phoebe had flung cold water on Genevieve, her friend sat upright once more.
“Yes,” she said. A new trace of enthusiasm laced through her words. “I suppose you did have quite an exciting time last night at the ball.” Genevieve’s eyes widened. “I had never seen such a spectacle. Can you believe the way those men marched into the ballroom and whisked away Lord Birchwood? They were so dashing. So bold. They were like one of the characters in your novels.” Genevieve laid a hand over her heart. “And there were quite a few of the constables who look attractive in those sharp, blue coats.”
It was hard to contain her mirth, so Phoebe did not try. “I imagine, from the outside looking in, the moment was quite dramatic and swoon worthy.”
Genevieve’s brow crinkled as she dropped her coverlet and reached for Phoebe’s hand. “Oh,” she said softly as she lowered her voice, “But I am just now realizing that maybe seeing Lord Birchwood led away in iron cuffs was not so very thrilling for you.” She hummed apprehensively. “Perhaps that was a disturbing sight.” She squeezed Phoebe’s hand tightly. “I am sorry I did not seek you out and check on your well-being as soon as it happened. It was just that the entire party was thrown into disarray. And when I looked for you, I solemnly swear that I did try to find you in the multitude but?—”
“Calm yourself,” Phoebe soothed. “I do not expect you to always stand sentry by my side. You are not my guardian, Genevieve.”
