Page 52 of West End Earl
The idea of someone demanding money to leave a woman alone struck her as icky in every way. At least it hadn’t been Cal’s idea. But Lordy. “You’re awful calm about Emma’s fit.”
“You should have seen our mother. Emma needs to step it up if she wants to impress me. Although this”—he nodded toward the vase—“was a nice touch.”
An hour later, Emma bounced into the morning room, all smiles once more. Any trace of her earlier illness and the fit about Roxbury appeared to be in the past. Cal took the mercurial change in stride, but Phee couldn’t help wondering at the shift. No matter how many side-eyed glances Phee gave her, the girl’s cheerful demeanor stayed in place.
Maybe her sicknesshadbeen a lingering travel ailment.
Phee shook her head. It didn’t matter. At the end of the day, Lady Emma wasn’t her problem. This party wasn’t her responsibility. She wasn’t the mistress of Lakeview.
After selecting a book from the library, she retreated to her room. The lush chambers were familiar now. The massive bed and a charming view of the surrounding fields were designed to cradle a lady in the lap of luxury, but today it was wasted on her. No matter how hard she tried to focus on the book, her mind wandered until she finally set it aside and paced the thick carpet.
Between Emma’s presence in the house and the imminent arrival of guests, Phee might be stuck in her own bed for the foreseeable future. If nothing else, she and Cal would need to be extremely circumspect. Even knowing what could happen if people thought the Earl of Carlyle and his employee were lovers, spending her nights apart from him made her want to pout and stomp her foot like a child.
And therein lay the problem. The ease with which she’d fallen into this romance should frighten her—but the fact that it didn’t was a concern of its own. In no time at all, he’d moved from being an important part of her life to being the center. Which, given the way her life usually went, could lead only to disaster. Everyone important died or betrayed her. Except maybe the vicar. But that logical fact had no place in this mess of emotions.
For two blessed weeks the rest of the world, her future, Milton, everything had disappeared. Nothing else had mattered, and it had been so lovely to relax. To enjoy Cal. Now reality roared again, clanging louder after the peaceful reprieve. Everything seemed so far out of her control, and thinking of all the unknowns made panic bubble inside her as she considered her options.
Returning to London meant walking into danger. Running off to another village and changing her name meant leaving Cal. And she wasn’t ready to do that. Not yet.
These weeks had been a gift. Regretting Cal would be impossible, even if it meant she walked away with a broken heart at the end of all this. And there very well could be an end, although she didn’t want to think about that. Cal talked as if they would be together in the future, but how could that work?
The only sure shot at happiness within her reach would be to curl up with him in the big bed behind her and let the world disappear again. During those times she’d discovered pieces of herself she’d thought out of touch forever. The man acted like a truth serum, forcing her to be honest and wholly herself, rather than exist within her brother’s persona. But honesty and vulnerability went hand in hand. Without a facade, she had nothing to hide behind.
He’d changed everything. Or perhaps he’d merely been present for the change. After all, he’d witnessed her shedding Adam’s clothes and held her as she’d taken those initial steps to embrace the woman she could be. And he’d done it while making her feel safe. Safety was the ultimate luxury. Was it any wonder her heart had tumbled into his hands—whether he knew it or not? Such a quick slide it had been from friend to lover to beloved.
Staring out at the bucolic scenery, Phee waited until the unease gave way to clarity. Even if she didn’t know what the future held, even if she had no right to sleep in the family wing of this grand house, she would take her happiness where she found it.
And right now, she found it with Cal.
***
Baron Rosehurst and Miss Cuthbert were the first guests to arrive. As soon as the baron stepped through the front doors, he craned his neck about, gawking at the soaring ceiling and grand sweeping staircase, then said in an echoing voice, “This will all be yours, Violet. Take note of the staff and household practices. It’s your job to make them better.”
Oh God. So that was how this was going to go. Cal’s cheeks felt as immovable as steel, unable to muster a polite smile. To her credit, Miss Cuthbert closed her eyes in clear mortification before saying calmly, “Nothing is settled. Such talk is inappropriate, Father. Lord Carlyle is our host. I am merely a guest in his home.” Turning to Cal, she said, “Which is lovely, milord. I apologize for my father’s comments. He’s tired from traveling. I have no doubt your staff are efficient and will ensure everyone’s stay is comfortable.”
Well, if nothing else, that pretty speech saved Miss Cuthbert from damp sheets on her bed. The baron might not be so lucky, and frankly, Cal wouldn’t blame his staff one bit if they let the standards slide a bit in that bedchamber.
He returned Miss Cuthbert’s efforts with a grateful smile, then offered a tight nod to her sire. “Baron Rosehurst, welcome to Lakeview. I hope you’ll enjoy yourbriefstay in my home.”
If he could get through this house party without strangling Rosehurst, he’d count himself—and the baron—lucky.
Over the next three hours the center hall of Lakeview became a bustling hub of barely controlled chaos with servants scurrying about and guests greeting one another. At one point a petite fluffy dog joined the fray, and for the life of him, he had no idea whom it belonged to.
He kept checking the stairs, hoping Phee would make an appearance, but it would seem Adam Hardwick intended to keep a low profile. Or she’d gone into hiding entirely. Not that he blamed her. Dealing with Rosehurst and his daughter for the next weeks wouldn’t be fun for her.
If he had his way, he’d cart Phee to his room and lock the door against everyone else in this house. But if he did that, he’d never fulfill his promise to Miss Cuthbert. And then someone would have to deal with his father’s harebrained bet, and he’d never marry off his headstrong sister.
Smile. Make a joke. Don’t step on the yippy little dog.“Whose dog is this?” he asked the room at large. A maid stepped forward and saved the animal from getting trampled.
He still didn’t know whom it belonged to.
No matter. He blew out a breath.
Only one guest hadn’t arrived—the reclusive Duke of Gaffney, his best chance at a match for Miss Cuthbert. If it hadn’t been for their budding business dealings and the promise of face-to-face talks, Cal never could have gotten Gaffney to Lakeview.
The soft poet heart of Lord Hornsby might appeal to Miss Cuthbert, but Gaffney’s ducal coronet would satisfy the baron. Hell, it would satisfy any papa with sense.
He’d instructed his staff to seat Miss Cuthbert between the two lords at dinner each night. With any luck, one of them would spark a mutual attraction.
