Thursday afternoon was the time he usually spent working on his etymological monographs, currently a quite detailed one tracing the origin of the wordclue. But Thursday afternoon was also the time Alice had tea with Phoebe at the Abingdon town house. George had never joined Alice before, but she had seemed unsurprised when he had been waiting for her in the front hall of their own house, saying, “I’ll think I’ll come to tea with you today.” Alice had merely raised her eyebrows and smiled.
“Do you think,” he started.
Alice and Phoebe both swung their heads toward him.
He cleared his throat. “Do you think the duchy of Thornwick is up to standard?”
Alice snorted. “It’s a duchy, George. How many are there in England?”
“Twenty-eight,” Phoebe answered.
“Surely, with dukes and duchies being so scarce,” Alice said, grinning, “there can be no standard.”
“It’s just that . . .”
The two women waited expectantly.
“It’s just that I’ve heard rumors of some insolvency.”
“I’ve been over the books of the Thornwick estate with my father. There is nothing glaring. But it is so good of you, George, to worry over it.” Phoebe reached out and patted his knee.
She had touched him. His leg. His knee. He was lost in the sensation of that gentle touch. He almost whimpered when she took her hand away.
He rallied.
“But the mistresses must surely be a great expense.”
Alice sat back in her chair, her face unreadable. Phoebe flushed a beautiful red. Oh, how he wished he had caused that flush a different way. In his bed. Intheirbed.
“Mistresses, George?” Phoebe choked out.
“Well,” he said, now very uncomfortable indeed. Damn, his cravat was tight. He must speak to Morton about tying it more loosely in the future. He tried to work a finger between the cravat and his neck.
“Well?” said Alice.
“Thornwick has a stable,” he said.
Alice neighed.Shut up, Alice.
“Had,” Phoebe said firmly, despite her red face. “He had . . . companions, as you have had, George. I wouldn’t use the word stable. Women are not horses, after all.”
“Yes, yes, that’s true,” he said quickly.But you were last night, weren’t you, Phoebe? My little mare in heat for her stallion.
Phoebe nodded. “And Arthur gave up all his women months ago when he decided to seek a bride. I don’t claim to understand why men need these flings before marriage when women do without them—”
“I don’t,” Alice volunteered.
He growled at his sister. “Shut up, Alice. This is between me and Phee.”
Alice leaned forward. “Whatis between you and Phee?”
“This discussion.”
Alice smirked. “I’m the one who was there when she met Thornwick. I’m her best friend. Unless Phoebe tells me to shut up, I will say what I like.”
George glowered. Alice’s next allowance for hats and gloves would be very meager, indeed. He was Phoebe’s best friend, wasn’t he?
“I assure you, George, I’m not worried about Arthur’s fidelity.” Phoebe’s normal color was returning but her voice was quavering and her eyes were glistening. “If anything . . .” She ducked her head.
