men.
When Beatrice led the ladies into the drawing-room Dorothy took Phoebeâs arm and marched her across to a sopha in a far corner of the room.
âYou were behaving disgracefully!â she hissed. âYou were flirting all through dinner. I felt thoroughly ashamed of you.â
Hermione had joined them and seated herself on Phoebeâs other side. âIf Reginald hears about how you are letting him down he will not permit you to go on this silly Brussels jaunt.â
Phoebe laughed. âYour brother has no authority over me, to allow me to go anywhere, and I shall talk to or flirt with â if that is how you choose to describe friendly conversation â whomsoever I like. At least I donât simper at men who are unlikely to appreciate such infantile behaviour!â
As they spluttered with indignation Phoebe rose to her feet and walked calmly across to where Priscilla and her sister were looking at a book of flower paintings. They welcomed her, moving to make room for her to sit beside them, and chatting until the men came in. Soon afterwards several card tables were organized, while some of the younger men went off to play billiards. Phoebe and her new friends went with them to watch. When one of the men who had been talking to Phoebe asked Dorothy and Hermione if they were coming, they quickly shook their heads.
âI am not interested in such ways of passing the time,â Dorothy said, and the friendly man shrugged and left them.
âTheyâll become sour old maids,â Priscilla said, and Phoebe knew she was right. There was nothing she could do to help, and their attitude towards her did not make her want to try and help them. When she went to bed she made sure the connecting door between their bedrooms was locked, resolutely ignoring the insistent rapping on it, and the demands for the door to be opened.
On the following day Phoebe rose early, as she usually did. It was a bright, sunny day, and she longed to be outside, away
from the sisters who would, she was sure, spend the day being critical of their hosts and the other guests. The only other person in the breakfast-room was the Earl of Wrekin, dressed in immaculate buckskin breeches and high boots. He rose to his feet as she entered and offered to help her from the dishes set out on the sideboard.
âThank you, my lord. Just a slice of ham please.â
He put the plate in front of her. âYou are up unusually early. I thought most ladies preferred to stay in bed for several more hours.â
âOh? Ought I not to be here? Was I expected to stay in my room?â Phoebe asked, worried she had made a social gaffe.
âDonât be concerned. It is a pleasant change to see a girl who has energy in the mornings. What do you mean to do to fill the hours?â
âI thought I would walk in the grounds, unless it rains, but it looks as though it will be a fine day.â
âThere is not a great deal to see in the gardens at this time of year, except bare trees and dead plants. Do you ride?â
âI used to, before my father died.â Phoebe thought wistfully of Rusty, the gentle mare they had been forced to sell when her father died, because they could not afford to keep her.
âBeatrice has a mild-mannered mare she would lend you, if you cared to come out for a ride with me.â
Phoebeâs eyes lit up. âOh, that would be wonderful.â Then she remembered. âBut I donât have a riding habit with me.â
âIâll ask Beatriceâs maid if she can find an old one.â He rang the bell as he spoke. âMy sister probably has several. Ah, Peters, can you please ask Lady Draytonâs maid to find a riding habit and some boots for Miss Kingston? Then send to the stables to have her mare and another horse for me saddled.â
When the butler had left, Wrekin poured Phoebe some more coffee. âYou live in Yorkshire?â he asked.
âI do now, but
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley