Page 56 of West End Earl
Sweet Lord. Phee sighed and did as requested. The obvious ploy combined with the noxious perfume and too many nights in a row of limited sleep meant Phee’s tolerance measured at an all-time low. Last night she’d bowed out early, then tossed and turned until Cal crawled into bed next to her, slightly tipsy from too many glasses of wine and brandy while talking to Gaffney about his cider operation. They’d cuddled together like a pile of puppies, wrapped in limbs and languid pillow talk in the darkness, an experience that struck her as more intimate than coming together in a passionate frenzy. That, they’d done this morning. Phee smiled at the memory.
Once Miss Lillian stood in the cradle of her arms, it was a bit startling how small she turned out to be. For such a big personality, Lillian came in an awfully tiny package. Phee towered over her by at least six inches—a detail Miss Lillian noticed and appreciated, if the coy eyelash fluttering gave any indication.
Aligning the angle of the other woman’s elbow just so, Phee grasped Miss Lillian’s wrist and reminded her, “Hold firm. Make your body a series of straight, strong lines.”
Together they released the arrow, both holding their breath as it flew in a graceful arc to hit the straw target for the first time that afternoon.
“I hit it!” crowed Miss Lillian. “All thanks to you, Mr. Hardwick. Although I believe that’s the first time a man has ever told me to make my body a straight line. Don’t men like curves?”
Damn. Right when Phee was nearly enjoying the triumph of Lillian’s achievement, the lady had to turn it into a flirtatious comment. Pretty words took too much effort, and she was done.
“Miss Lillian, please understand that I mean no offense. But of all the men in this house, why are you trying to charm me? There’s a duke, an earl, three viscounts—several of whom I’m sure would appreciate your attention and flirt in return.” Not Cal, obviously. But Lillian might have a legitimate shot at Hornsby. He’d been sneaking glances at the lady when the party decamped to the side lawn for archery.
Miss Lillian tilted her head, studying some distant point beyond the target. When she turned to Phee and spoke, some of the illusion disappeared. No more playing the coquette; she was finally without artifice.
“You seem to embrace a direct approach, so I shall answer in kind. I spoke the truth at dinner last night. Your story is fascinating. Tragic and romantic. You’ve made a life for yourself, which shows strength and character. Truly, Mr. Hardwick, you underestimate your appeal. You have kind eyes and a remarkable smile. Besides, without a title, your future wife is likely to never be at the center of the London Season again. I’ve been out for three years, and frankly, I’ve had enough.”
Phee rocked on her heels. Blunt Lillian was far more likable. The honesty softened Phee’s feelings toward the woman. Everyone deserved a chance to be happy. “Thank you for your kind words. I must tell you, though, that my affections are engaged elsewhere.” When Lillian’s expression fell and her cheeks laced with pink, Phee hastened to add, “However, Lord Hornsby might be worth your attention. Old family, and I’ve never heard a bad word spoken about him. Last night he mentioned preferring his country estate. Persuading him to avoid London might be a simple thing.”
Miss Lillian eyed the man in question several target lanes away. Phee pressed the point. “See how strong his arms are? He’s a striking fellow. Say the word and I can change your seating assignment at dinner. Or you can go now and ask him for archery advice.”
“But he’s speaking with Lady Emma. Why would he pay attention to me instead?”
“I’ll take care of Lady Emma. Would you like to talk to him?”
Miss Lillian lifted her chin, appearing to draw determination around her like a cloak. “Yes, please. I would appreciate a proper introduction to Lord Hornsby.”
“In that case, come with me.” Phee dared a friendly wink and offered her arm.
***
Miss Lillian appeared to be moving on from her infatuation with Adam Hardwick, thanks to some deft maneuvering by his lady. Cal eyed the pair as they began an animated discussion with Hornsby and Emma. Making it seem like the most natural thing in the world, Phee and Emma split off from the group, leaving Hornsby and Miss Lillian to the archery and their conversation.
As Phee and his sister walked off, arm in arm, they seemed at ease with one another, smiling and chatting as they wandered across the grass, greeting guests. Cal had seen his sister flirt, and Emma wasn’t flirting with Phee, so at some point they must have struck up a friendship. Frankly, he didn’t know what he’d do if Emmahadbeen flirting. If nothing else, it would have been terribly awkward, all things considered.
Analyzing the relationship between his sister and the woman who’d invaded every area of his heart struck him as rather ridiculous. Cal grinned as he stuffed arrows into the quiver. The situation appealed to his overdeveloped sense of the absurd. Someday their children would ask how they’d met, and they’d have quite the story.
His hands froze, and he looked up, searching for Phee among the guests milling about on the lawn. That was where this was going, wasn’t it? Marriage. A life together. Maybe even children. Even though he had no idea how they’d manage it, the dream of that future settled into his bones with a certainty he’d never known before. With his feelings teetering toward beautiful but scary and unfamiliar permanency, Cal kept looking until he spotted her still standing near Emma.
How the hell had she bamboozled everyone foryears? The breeches she wore clung to slender thighs and molded around a delicious bottom designed to fit perfectly in his hands. The cut of her coat hid her upper body, but he knew her breasts were tender mouthfuls. He’d called her a selkie their first night at the lake, but he’d been wrong. She was a siren, and he was so damned lucky he’d heard her call.
She and Emma were still in conversation when he approached.
“Not him?” Phee asked.
“He seems like a lovely man. It would be awful to ruin that,” Emma said.
Cal missed the context, but with his fingers twitching to touch Phee inappropriately until she melted and made that delicious purring sound…well. Explanations could wait.
“Puppy, could you come with me, please?” He held his hand out for her to take before catching himself and turning the gesture into an awkward wave, as if sweeping his arm toward the house had been his intention all along.
“Certainly. If you’ll excuse us, Emma.” Phee bowed slightly, then turned toward the house with him. “What’s the rush?” she hissed.
“You’re too delectable for words, and I need to bury myself inside you until you clamp around my cock and make me see stars. Any objections?”
“Not a one. Walk faster.”
They made it as far as the side entrance of the house before the joy bubble burst. Baron Rosehurst and his daughter approached, making their first appearance of the day. It had been a relief to not have to deal with the baron over his bacon this morning. Beside him, Phee stiffened.
