Page 5 of Swindled By a Spinster
With a shake of the head, Ian marched toward the coat closet. There was no pleasing the man who had been Torrance’s moral compass.
It was true that he had been rather consumed with completing missions for Archbroke over the years, but it was time. Time for him to bear the full responsibilities of being Baron Kilman rather than playing the role of Agent K. The moment he realized Phoebe had gone missing and was possibly in danger, his priorities immediately shifted. He’d been a fool to take Phoebe’s presence for granted. Fear that the woman who was his savior would come to harm and he’d not see her again had shredded his sanity. He’d aged at least a decade over the harrowing two weeks he’d been unable to locate her. The woman was critical to his health and wellbeing, and he was going to convince her to marry him or die trying.
Ian held out his favorite greatcoat for him. “I’ll say it one more time, mayhap in a way you will understand, Lady Phoebe is fond of Agent K,notBaron Kilman.”
“They are one and the same.”
“You are only deceiving yourself if you believe that to be the truth.” Ian stuffed his hands in the front pockets of his waistcoat and headed back up the stairs without a backward glance.
Blast the man. He always had the last word.
Torrance strode past his butler who held the front door open for him and noted the smirk on the old man’s face. Why had he never noted the insubordinate behavior of his staff before? Ian’s voice rang in his ears:because you had more important matters to attend to. That may have been the case in the past. However, protecting Phoebe was now his most important task, one he intended to do for the rest of his days.
In the middleof Lady Osbourne’s ballroom sat a grand piano.
Phoebe wrapped an arm about her waist to refrain from covering her ears that burned red. Her mama had insisted all eligible ladies needed to master at least one musical instrument, and since her family only owned a pianoforte, it was the instrument of choice. Even after hours upon agonizing hours of attacking the black and white keys, Phoebe could not play a tune that didn’t make her own ears bleed. Backing up against the far wall, she waited until her racing heart calmed.
The card in her gloved hand bore a list of names—the guests who had been one way or another been coerced into performing by the notorious matchmaker Lady Osbourne, her host for the evening. It came as no surprise that the list was comprised of ladies who had been deemed unmarriageable dueto their age, lack of funds, or perceived lack of beauty by her so-called peers. Phoebe reread the list. Neither Ruth nor Lillian were included, which was peculiar since they were both unwed and talented musicians. Urgh. If even Lady Osbourne believed the gossip of their disappearance, the pair were doomed. Worse than being labeled a wallflower and relegated to the shadows was a reputation for scandal. It was all her fault. She should have informed Kilman as soon as she discovered the pair of wallflowers were investigating a burglary. She should have followed the rules. But she hadn’t, and if Ruth and Lillian never married because of her mistake, she’d not forgive herself.
“A penny for your thoughts?”
Phoebe dropped the card. Blast Kilman for sneaking up on her.
He bent and picked up the list and handed it back to her. “Before we discuss what has your pretty brow knitted into a frown, would you join me for a stroll about the room?”
She took the aggravating list and waved it back and forth to cool her overly warm cheeks. Phoebe snuck a covert glance at the man standing next to her. She studied the man’s features, which she could normally read with ease, but tonight she was having trouble deciphering the glimmer in the man’s gaze.
Hope swelled up within her and she blurted, “You spoke to Archbroke, didn’t you? Did he agree to reinstate you as an agent?”
“No. I didn’t seek out Archbroke and I’m not returning to the Home Office.” Kilman’s handsome features transformed from lighthearted interest into a dark scowl.
“Oh. Well, don’t worry. I have a plan. I’ll…” She stopped mid-sentence as Kilman turned and walked away, with hands fisted at his side and the tips of his ears bright red. The man was clearly angry—heated even. But why?
CHAPTER FIVE
Torrance stormed toward the terrace doors away from the woman who had twice in one day sliced his heart into two. He was uncertain if the rage roaring through his veins was due to the fact that Ian had once again been correct in his assessment or if it was because he had failed to see the truth of the matter—Phoebe didn’t hold the same tendre for him as he her. She simply saw him as a conduit to defy society at every opportunity.
The hasty patter of Phoebe’s slippers behind him forced him to slow his pace. He might be enraged but he wouldn’t let her trip and injure herself, or worse, have her fall into his arms in plain sight ruining her reputation and forcing her to wed him. If they were to marry, he wanted her to do so willingly.
Behind him, Phoebe called out, “Lord Kilman.”
Her breathy tone had him imagining Phoebe in his bed—naked. A guttural groan escaped him because his fantasies would forever remain that…fantasies.
A poke from what he guessed was Phoebe’s fan in the back stopped him in his tracks, and he turned to face her. “Yes…Lady Phoebe.”
“Don’tLadyPhoebeme.” With a snap of her wrist she unfurled her fan and proceeded to artfully wave it back and forth. The tendrils of hair that framed her face fluttered in a fashion that had Torrance’s torrid imagination running wild once more. It had been a long while since he’d lain with a woman and his body, as it usually did, longed to be closer to Phoebe.
Clearing his throat, Torrance replied, “Then pray tell me, how would you wish for me to address you? My dear…” He shook his head and pressed on, “No, that would be too common. How aboutmy beloved…no, too intimate. If you had agreed to marry me this afternoon at the park,wifecould have been a possibility.” He stared down at Phoebe, whose brow was knitted, and lips pressed tightly together to form a fine line.
“Weagreed long ago to stop using honorifics with one another. Why would you choose to reinstate them?” The pained look that flashed in her eyes took Torrance by surprise.
“My apologies. However, I’d assumed that there was no longer awe, since I’m no longer an agent.”
Phoebe took a step back. With the added distance, he spied the moisture gathering at the corner of her eyes. He’d never seen her cry before. Knowing he caused it had his heart twisting in agony. Not caring who was about or how his actions may be interrupted by others, he reached out for her.
Phoebe stepped to the side and dodged his grasp. “You are clearly not thinking straight this eve. I suggest we continue our conversation on the morrow once you have had a chance to calm down and… and have contemplated what it is that you really want.”
He knew what he craved: her. Why did she not understand? He’d stated his intent clearly, hadn’t he?
