Page 42 of West End Earl
A dull thud started at his temple. “Miss Cuthbert and I agree that our fathers’ bet was a terrible idea. So I’ll find her another husband. Easy solution.”
She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Do you have a list of potential bachelors?”
There was his practical friend. “Yes. I’m also hoping one of them will turn Emma’s head. Marry off both debutantes, hide you from your murderous uncle, and we can all live happily ever after. Our life sounds like a stage farce.” Cal tried to grab an abandoned piece of bacon from her plate, but she swatted at his fingers testily.
“And I need an evening coat for this?” She knit her brows in skepticism.
“Unless you want to confess to everyone that you’re a woman, yes. But in that event, you’ll need a gown. You would look lovely in green or copper.”
Phee rubbed a palm over her face. “Fine. I’ll find something.” She grimaced and said, “Damn, I forgot. I meant to tell you yesterday. I have more Emma news.”
Alarms went off in his head, and he suddenly wished he could retreat to bed for a day or two. Preferably with Phee. “What’s she done now?”
“She’s been sneaking out during the day. I can’t be sure she’s meeting Roxbury, but it makes sense. I found out yesterday. I’m sorry, I meant to say something but then got distracted, and—”
Cal groaned and tilted back in his chair to stare at the swirls in the ceiling plaster. “The women in my life are destroying my sanity. One by one, you ladies will be the death of me.” He shot her a glance, but she ignored his theatrics.
Midchew, she paused and looked at him. “What? I hope you weren’t anticipating sympathy. I’m waiting for you to finish whining. Drink another cup of coffee. Everything looks better after coffee.”
***
Given her need to stay out of sight, Phee had plenty of time to assemble a guest list, send invitations, and coordinate with the staff in place at Lakeview. At least it gave her something to do besides sew and stew over the situation with Miss Cuthbert.
Fortunately, an invitation from Lord Calvin Carlyle was a rare and precious commodity, and this one coincided with the highest temperatures of summer. No one in their right mind wanted to stay in the stench of London during the hot months, but with Parliament still in session and not likely to break anytime soon, people were jumping at any excuse to escape to the country. Even for an event that was essentially a game where the grand prize happened to be a pair of blond debutantes with questionable taste in men.
She remembered feeling an affinity for Miss Cuthbert at Vauxhall. But the way Calvin’s father and hers had winked and nudged their way through the introductions, fully expecting Cal to fall at the little blonde’s feet, sparked useless flames of jealousy now.
Phee shrugged off the unpleasant feeling. Cal had promised he had it handled, and she believed him. The jealousy was one more indication that it was too late to keep her heart from getting deeply involved in this budding romance between Cal and herself. She didn’t know what to do about that. Before now, they’d been close friends. Hell, he was her best friend. It stood to reason that if their feelings turned romantic, they wouldn’t be lukewarm. Their newfound attraction for one another seemed as deep as their friendly affection had been. Unfortunately, that meant there was more at stake if everything went sideways. She’d lose a friend and a potential lover—and just when she was getting used to the idea of wanting a lover.
Two years of daydreaming about Cal was one thing. Getting pulled into empty rooms and kissed senseless by the man was another beast altogether. He showed affection unreservedly, but each time he kissed her, she worried they’d be caught. She worried that her feelings were barreling past friendship and into love.
They’d shared countless stolen kisses and frantic touches. The taste of him and the sound of his voice, rough with desire, had been imprinted in her mind forever. But for every stolen moment, there was an interruption or an obligation pulling him away. While she was stuck hiding in this posh town house, Emma’s social schedule whirled on, and Cal needed to be there for it. Given Emma’s recent choices, Cal was on high alert.
Not that it would make much difference in the end. Emma would make whatever bullheaded and ill-advised decisions she wanted, with little regard for anyone else.
Every day, worry lines dug their way around Cal’s mouth. It was hard not to feel guilty when fear for her safety because of Milton only added to his burden. Yet the opportunities to remove some of that load were few and far between.
Two nights ago, Cal had fallen asleep beside her in bed. She’d been a heavy sleeper all her life, and now she cursed that fact. Even the presence of a man in her bed wasn’t enough to wake her. So they’d slept.
When she awoke cradled against his shoulder—his bare, warm, smooth shoulder—disorientation made her jerk before her brain caught up with the situation. Kingston’s knock at the door interrupted Cal reaching for her. The valet hadn’t looked at her when he reported that there’d been an attempted break-in overnight. The kitchen door had sustained damage, and the servants were all aflutter.
Cal didn’t visit her last night. However, Kingston sent Jenny the maid to her room this morning with a freshly starched cravat. Phee took that as a sign that the valet would keep what he’d seen to himself. She ran a finger over the smooth linen around her throat. The man worked miracles with cloth and starch.
A knock on the library door interrupted her musings. “Enter.”
Nelson slipped into the room. He held out a slip of paper. “A message arrived for you, Mr. Hardwick. One of the neighborhood kids dropped it off. I told them you weren’t here but I’d pass it along if I found out where you were.”
Phee took the paper and read the uneven pencil scrawl.No boat news.“Thank you, Nelson.” The lad lingered instead of leaving, so she cocked her head. “Is there anything else?”
“Is his lordship here?”
“No. Would you like me to relay a message?”
“I’m not sure.” Nelson seemed quite young as he twitched in his livery and ran a nervous hand through his hair.
Phee set aside the note. “Nelson, does this have anything to do with my uncle? Do you have information to share?”
His shoulders slumped on an exhale, and he nodded. “The break-in the other night? That was a test run. I didn’t know about it, or I’d have said something, I swear. The boys are comin’ back tonight. They have orders—ugly ones. Your uncle wants to collect on that insurance something fierce, Mr. Hardwick. They know Lord Carlyle is hiding you. I’m supposed to let them in the servants’ entrance and clear a path to your room. I don’t know what to do.”
