Page 2 of Swindled By a Spinster
Pasting on a smile that made her cheeks ache, Phoebe replied, “Nothing for you to worry about.” Phoebe scanned the park to make certain Kilman wasn’t about.
Ruth mirrored her actions before asking, “Have you spoken to Lord Kilman?”
Expelling the breath that she’d been holding in, Phoebe avoided the question. “Please allow me to apologize again. I’m truly sorry. I should have never involved you and Lillian. I should have intervened sooner and put a stop to your inquiries.” She captured Ruth’s gaze and added, “However, I also knowhow overwhelming the desire to defy expectations and seek out adventure can be.” She bowed her head and shook it twice.
Her own wish to be considered anything other than a meekish miss had led her straight into Kilman’s world of secrets and adventure. Eyes closed. She remembered the heart crushing pain of overhearing her male counterparts describe her as no more memorable as one of the many daisies that lined a garden wall during her debut ball. She gripped her parasol tightly. She had dashed blindly through the gardens into the back alley, where she nearly tripped over Kilman who sat slumped against the wall unconscious, battered and bruised. Rather than running for help, she had slowly approached Kilman. It wasn’t until he reached out and grabbed her by the wrist that Phoebe realized the precarious position she’d placed herself in. Despite the waves of panic that riddled her body, she leaned forward when his lips parted only to hear him whisper, “Leave. Return to the ball and pretend you never saw me.”
She wouldn’t deny her initial thought was to obey the man, so conditioned was she to following every societal rule. Phoebe tugged her arm free and stood. Except she couldn’t leave him there alone. In her first act of defiance, Phoebe knelt down and slung Kilman’s arm over her shoulder, and with strength she didn’t even know she possessed she assisted him until he was on his feet. Half dragging, half stumbling, she managed to escort the battered man down the alley where she hailed a hack. She deposited Kilman in the vehicle with the help of the driver, who insisted she return to the ball. Not willing to be embroiled in a scandal, Phoebe took the advice of the driver and returned to the festivities. While she had never forgotten the events of that evening, Kilman had never made mention of it. Bah. Kilman. The fool still believed it was his idea to have her supply him with information that only a lady who could move about in the shadows could obtain. It had taken her three weeksof investigation to confirm her suspicion that Kilman was in fact linked to the Home Office and another three weeks to fully plant the idea in the man’s thoughts that she could be of assistance to him in his investigations. It had been another two weeks for Kilman to gain the courage to approach her. If she hadn’t taken action, she wouldn’t have…her train of thought was broken as Ruth nudged her in the ribs.
“Kilman. Up on the hill. To our right.”
With Kilman in sight she needed to act fast and return to her carriage or she’d be forced to face the man. Phoebe lowered her parasol over her shoulder, linked arms with Ruth, and marched forward. Even after a fortnight of deliberations she had yet come to terms with her feelings for the man. At first, she had ignored the weight of disappointment that had settled upon her shoulders when Kilman had not come to her aid and had in fact sent the Duchess of Whistlestop in his stead. But as each day had passed, Phoebe could no longer deny the hurt that burned in her chest over his lack of concern.
Determinedto track down the woman he left his post for, Kilman entered Hyde Park and scanned the crowded paths. No longer willing to let Phoebe out of his sight, he climbed the nearest slope to gain visibility in hopes of catching a glimpse of the woman’s pale yellow parasol. To his dismay, the color of the sun in all its variations was in favor this Season. He needed to find her before news of his departure from the agency reached her. Heart racing, he drew in a breath and forced himself to focus on searching the paths for Phoebe’s lithe profile. Her height normally made it possible for him to spot her easily;however, at a distance it was slightly more challenging. Damn. Where was Phoebe?
It was prime hours for those who wish to be seen out and about, which meant it was the best time for eavesdropping, and Phoebe was a master at ferreting out information.
Switching strategies, he turned on his heel and strode across the park to where a long line of carriages and coachmen were awaiting their owners’ return. It wasn’t long before he spied Phoebe’s family's dated conveyance. Without hesitation, he hopped in to await the one person he wished to spend the rest of his days with.
Muttering under her breath, Phoebe entered the carriage and plopped herself down in the center of the forward-facing seat.
He waited until she froze and said, “You aren’t running from me, are you?”
“Of course not.”
Torrance pulled out his pocket watch and glanced down at the time piece Phoebe had given him as a birthday present last year. “I’ve missed you. It’s been fourteen days, twelve hours and eight minutes since I last saw your beautiful face.”
“Hmm…flattery…you only employ such tactics when you intend to deliver unfavorable news or you wish to avoid a specific topic.” She busied herself adjusting her skirts, pretending to be uninterested, but the pink tint to her cheeks proved she wasn’t immune to his compliment.
“I’m afraid you are wrong this time. What I want to share with you today is neither bad nor avoidable.” He tugged at his cravat. The lump that was suddenly lodged in his throat had him unsure whether to proceed or delay informing her of his decision.
“Is that so?” She tilted her head slightly and arched a brow at him. “Well then, out with it.”
“I’ve resigned from my post. I’m no longer an agent for the Home Office…” He inhaled, letting his declaration hang in the air while he debated if he should share his hopes for their future. At the sight of her dark scowl his tongue tied and he sat at attention, bracing himself for what was to come next. An interrogation? A tongue lashing? Phoebe’s gaze narrowed even more, pinning him back against the coach bench.
Before he could explain further she said, “You resigned because of me…because of what happened…because?—”
He placed a gloved finger over her lips. “I’ve decided it's time I wed.”
Wide eyed, she pulled back. “Beg your pardon?”
“I wish to wed and have a family.”
She blinked repeatedly and then asked, “You’ve decided to seek out a wife?”
His brows snapped together. “No. I want to marry you.”
“Me?” Phoebe’s look of disbelief wasn’t feigned. She continued on to say, “What gave you the impression I was even remotely interested in the idea of matrimony?”
As if he’d received a blow to his head, he shook his head and replied, “I thought that…” He paused. For years he had assumed that they had an implicit agreement that one day, when the time warranted, they would wed. At the risk of having all his dreams for the future dashed, he cleared his throat and forced himself to say, “You don’t wish to marry me?”
“It…it’s not you. It…it’s…well. It—it’s complicated.” Phoebe stuttered.
In all the years he’d known her, Phoebe had never avoided answering him directly. It was one of the many reasons why he trusted her implicitly.
He leaned forward and reached for her hands that were clasped tightly in her lap. “Whatever the issue, we, together, can resolve it as we always have in the past.”
Chin tucked against her chest, she inhaled deeply. “I’ll not let you bear the consequences of my mistake. I’ll speak to Archbroke this eve.”
