By the time the parsonage came into view, with its windows glowing faintly in the encroaching dusk, the day’s weariness faded into a calm contentment as the issues plaguing him receded. Not vanishing, but relenting. Whatever chaos the evening would bring, he would manage it with Phoebe at his side.
Smiling to himself, Samuel left his mount with the grooms and crossed the final distance to his home, striding through the front door and taking the stairs to their bedchamber. His wife sat at her dressing table whilst Molly made the final touches to her coiffure. Though Phoebe’s attention did not stray from the task at hand, he felt her awareness, and Samuel leaned against the doorjamb as she turned her head this way and that, examining the maid’s handiwork.
“Very good, Molly,” she said with a warm smile before sending the girl off to her other duties. But when Phoebe’s eyesfound Samuel’s in the mirror, her expression fell. “Mr. Colby is not faring well, and Mrs. Broad’s rheumatism is keeping her from helping him much. I fear this will be a hard winter on them both.”
Striding over, Samuel settled a hand on her shoulder. “We will find a solution. One way or another.”
A faint smile returned to her lips. “‘We?’”
Samuel’s hand lingered on her shoulder as a smile pulled at his lips.
Was it time? The question rose to his thoughts, insistent and eager as he considered the bundle hidden in his drawer. Samuel forced himself to breathe evenly, though his throat was doing its utmost to strangle him. It was a small gesture, but would she welcome it? Or think it presumptuous? Suspect him of trying to purchase her goodwill?
Samuel kept his expression composed, though his mind was anything but. The dinner party pressed at the edges of his thoughts. It would be so fitting. And would likely please her.
Yet the silence stretched as he wondered if it was too bold.
Still, the occasion warranted such an offering; it was sensible and needn’t signify anything more.
Drawing in a steadying breath, Samuel crossed to the chest of drawers and retrieved the small linen bundle, bringing it back to where Phoebe sat. And paused before offering it to her.
Uncertainty flickered across her features as she examined it. Tugging the ribbon free, Phoebe pulled away the linen to find a scuffed leather box, and her breath caught. With wide eyes, she looked at Samuel and back at the gift before she opened it.
The velvet within was dulled with age, its once-rich color softened by time, but the pendant cradled in the hollow was as bright as ever. The rich gold of the scrollwork caught the fading light and lent a richness to the cluster of pearls embedded between the leaves of gold. Phoebe’s hand hovered a momentbefore she touched it, as though afraid the thing might vanish, and when her fingers finally closed around the delicate chain, the movement was careful, reverent.
“How?” she whispered.
Samuel cleared his throat. “I attended the auction and spied it among your family’s things.”
“It is such an inconsequential piece that Frederick wanted me to keep it,” she said, a tender smile gracing her lips as she examined the pendant. “But I couldn’t bring myself to keep it when he had given up everything. We needed every penny.”
Her dark eyes rose to his, and Samuel could hardly think with that confession burning its way through him. His wife was a generous soul in so many quiet ways.
“But how did you know this one… That I…” Blinking, Phoebe swallowed as her words failed her.
“You wore it most evenings,” he said, tucking his hands behind him. “The rest of your things were too dear, but I knew this belonged with you. And with the dinner tonight, I thought you would wish to have it, but I do not mean to presume…”
Faith. He was babbling like a fool, but with her selfless confession warming his heart, Samuel found himself unable to keep a hold on his tongue.
Rubbing his palms against his thighs, he turned to the wardrobe. “I must dress.”
But Phoebe rose and caught him by the arm. “Would you?”
Handing over the necklace, she turned as his gigantic fingers fumbled with the delicate clasp. Once free, Samuel lifted the chain over her head and settled it around her neck, though he nearly dropped it when his fingers brushed her skin. Despite knowing the warmth of her and the curve of that neck, his pulse quickened.
Forcing himself to move (though his hands felt like foreign agents determined to do as they please), he battled with theclasp; the fine mechanism ill-suited to his clumsy attempts, and he became acutely aware of how ill-suited he was for this task.
Phoebe did not move, but that stillness sharpened the moment. This lady was his wife—someone with whom he had shared far greater intimacies—yet the faint rise and fall of her breath was hypnotic. And he found himself leaning closer, his thumb caressing the nape of her neck.
Samuel withdrew his hand as though from a flame, his breath unsteady, the room suddenly pressing close around them. The necklace lay properly in place, but the awareness it had stirred remained, taut and unmistakable.
Turning in place, Phoebe’s skirts enveloped his legs, her glimmering eyes rising to meet his. “Thank you.”
The whispered words landed with more force than they ought. But then, there was far more weight in those two syllables than their simple letters conveyed. Samuel nodded, completely unable to form a response, and Phoebe leaned in before he had time to retreat or recover, her movement unhurried and sure. Her lips brushed his cheek, lingering long enough to leave warmth in their wake, and the contact sent a jolt through him, sharp and disorienting.
Reaching up, Phoebe smoothed his lapel. Her fingers adjusted the fabric just like any other morning, and then she stepped back, leaving behind only the faint scent of her soap and the unmistakable imprint of her nearness.
And he remained fixed in place as she swept from the room, utterly unaware of the world tilting around him. Lowering himself onto the edge of the bed with more haste than dignity, Samuel braced a hand on the mattress, though it did little to steady his thoughts.
