Page 69 of The Rebellious Lady and the Phantom Lord
She glanced at Armande and saw him go rigid at Gilly’s approach, the wary expression upon his face far from welcoming. Her stomach knotted tighter.
After greeting her grandfather and Jonathan, Gilly vaulted toward her in three quick strides. “Phaedra, my sweetest coz. Sure and you’re looking as fair as the shamrocks in the springtime.”
Despite his jovial expression and the thick brogue he was putting on for her grandfather’s benefit, she saw the hard glint of determination in Gilly’s eyes. His resolution to search Armande’s room had not abated a jot in the past twenty-four hours.
Her cousin bruised her ribs with his rough embrace. She hissed in his ear, “Gilly, I swear if you go near the house today, I will break your head.”
He merely laughed, giving her chin a hard pinch. “Ah, sweet, indeed, and a tongue to match.”
He turned to Armande, sweeping into a mocking bow. “By all the saints, if it isn’t his lairdship, the Marquis de Varnais. A good day to your worship. You’re looking elegant enough to coax the snakes back into Ireland.”
“Mr. Fitzhurst.” Armande’s smile was cold. “You seem to become more Irish each time I meet you.”
“Ah, well, ‘tis a damn sight cleverer than becoming more English.”
Phaedra’s breath snagged in her throat, but Armande’s only acknowledgment of her cousin’s biting comment was a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. He bowed and tried to move on his way, but Gilly barred his path, her cousin’s chin tilted to a pugnacious angle.
“I have recently returned from France. A charming country. But sure and I don’t have to be telling your lairdship that.”
Armande’s lips compressed as he nodded in polite agreement. Once again he tried to sidestep her cousin, but Gilly laid a restraining hand upon his arm.
“I even had the good fortune to travel by your lairdship’s own estates, and what do you fancy I?—”
“Gilly!” Phaedra cried. She sensed the belligerence coursing beneath her cousin’s lazy smile, the tension masked behind Armande’s expression of indifference.
Armande removed Gilly’s hand from his sleeve in an elaborately courteous manner. “I am glad you had such a rewarding journey,” he said. He took out his snuffbox, flicking open the lid, the gesture laden with weariness almost as though he himself had conceived a distaste for the role he had to play. “You have not been spending your money unwisely again, I hope?”
“After all your grand advice when last we met? Certainly not. I expect far greater results from my investments this time.” Armande closed the snuffbox with a click. Phaedra wondered if he realized he had forgotten to pretend to take a pinch.
“Indeed, Mr. Fitzhurst?” he said. He looked directly into Gilly’s eyes. “Well, I wish you a long life in which to enjoy it.”
Gilly blinked, astonished; and Armande managed to walk past him with an air of quiet dignity. Her cousin let out his breath in a long, low whistle.
“What a cool devil! I think I have been rather silkily threatened, but stap me, if for an instant I didn’t fancy his good wishes were sincere.”
Phaedra glared at him, realizing how her hands had trembled during the exchange. It had been like watching two duelists facing each other and wondering who would be goaded into striking first.
“I shouldn’t wonder if he had threatened you when you were doing your damnedest to provoke him.”
“I was only seeking to know the man better, my dear.” Gilly’s innocent expression was belied by the acid in his tones. “Bring forth his warm, caring side you’ve been telling me so much about. Perchance I’ll become better acquainted with himself before the afternoon is out.”
Phaedra placed her hands upon her hips. “Perchance you’d best stay away from Armande-and the house.”
“Oh, I promise to stay away from him.”
“I warn you, Gilly,” she said, “I will be watching you.”
He shot her an aggravating smile and sauntered away, twirling his hat. She had little choice but to dog his footsteps, fearful that at any moment he intended to slip off to the Heath.
While Gilly joined a group of the older lads in playing at ninepins, she hovered in the background, taking care to keep her cousin constantly in sight, all the while affecting a deep interest in the game. When someone tugged at her sleeve, she pulled away without glancing around.
“Phaedra,” Jonathan pleaded. “You must give me but a moment of your time.”
“Not now,” she started to protest, then swallowed the words as she recalled guiltily that she tended to avoid Jonathan too often of late. The poor man appeared nearly ill with worry over something. She sighed, offering her hand in a gesture of acquiescence, permitting Jonathan to lead her to a bench where she could still keep Gilly within her line of vision.
Knowing Jonathan, she was certain whatever had caused this state of anxiety would prove nothing more than a tempest in a teapot. She did not even feel startled when Burnell announced gravely, “Phaedra, I am afraid you may be in danger.”
Phaedra forced a smile to her lips, her eyes drawn to where Gilly hurled the ball, scattering the heavy wooden pins. “Jonathan, I assure you, despite the heat, I am not planning to go swimming or do anything else which might distress you.”
