Page 58 of The Rebellious Lady and the Phantom Lord
She tugged off her riding hat and stretched out dreamily, flat on her back in the meager shade. “The last hunter Grandfather bought was magnificent. He had the most showy chestnut mane and extremely powerful hind quarters. It was a great pity Ewan had to have been riding Brute the day he?—”
She broke off, flushing at the waywardness of her own tongue. She hardly ever mentioned her late husband to Armande, let alone referring to the manner of his death. She glanced up to find Armande eyeing her gravely.
“I suppose you feel I am a terrible, heartless woman,” she said. “That I could so mourn the loss of a good horse and not spare one tear for my husband’s broken neck.”
“No, I don’t think you are terrible at all.”
Despite his reply, Phaedra felt driven by a need to defend herself. “The accident was Ewan’s own fault. He was always careless with his horses, tearing about like a madman; even over unfamiliar ground. He was out riding alone that morning and decided to cut across some poor farmer’s fields. He never checked his pace when jumping that stone fence, never bothered worrying what might be on the other side, that some field hand might have been careless enough to leave his plow behind.”
Her eyes shut tight as though a vision of the accident might rise up before her. “Mercifully, Ewan must have died at once. They say he never suffered, but Brute took the worst of the blow, breaking his leg, gashing his side on the plow and it was some time before anyone found them. It was all so strange.”
“Strange? How?”
Armande’s question startled her. He had been quiet for so long, she had almost begun to wonder if he were even listening. She opened her eyes to find his gaze intent.
“Well, I hardly know,” she said slowly, sitting up. “Perhaps ironic is what I really meant, that Ewan should have been riding alone. Ewan hated solitude. Why, sometimes he even sought out my company rather than be left alone.”
“Your life with him was very unhappy, wasn’t it?”
“Pure hell,” she said with a shaky laugh.
“Then I’m doubly glad he broke his neck.”
Phaedra shivered. She had come close often to thinking that herself; but the deathlike quiet with which Armande gave voice to her guilty thought left her feeling cold.
She regretted ever having mentioned her late husband. The mere sound of Ewan’s name seemed to have cast a pall over thebright summer’s day she and Armande were sharing together. And she had no idea how many more such days she might be granted.
“The worst of those days are all behind me,” she said, hugging her legs in close. “I am a free woman now.”
“But you will marry again.” Armande’s voice sounded strained. “I have noticed that one friend of your grandfather’s seems most devoted to you. I would imagine Mr. Burnell could offer a woman a most secure future. “
Was this Armande’s way of telling her that he had no future to offer her himself? She had sensed that long ago, and one glance at the sadness darkening his eyes was enough to confirm it. She looked away again, not wanting to face that just now.
“I shall never allow myself to be shackled by the bonds of marriage again. I intend to be an independent woman one day.”
“I am sorry you feel that way,” Armande said. “Marriage was never meant to be like the misery you shared with Grantham. If things were different, I would try to make you change your mind.—” He broke off abruptly, standing and walking away from where she sat. He stared out across the meadow.
“But what would you know of it?” she asked. “You have never been married, have you?”
“No, I have never been that fortunate. But I have the example of my mother and father to draw upon. There were never two people who came closer to achieving perfect happiness in this very imperfect world.”
“Your parents were supposed to have died when you were only a babe,” she said gently.
For a moment he looked startled, then he flung up one hand in the manner of a fencer acknowledging a hit. “Piqued again!Merci beaucoup, madame, for the reminder.”
“I wasn’t trying to be clever.” She frowned up at him. “I only hope you are not as careless in the presence of others as you are with me.”
“It was at your insistence, my dear, that I abandoned my pose as the marquis.”
“Only with me. I never meant for you to risk exposure with anyone else. God knows what my grandfather would do if he discovered you are an impostor. And there are many who would take malicious delight in telling him. Hester, for one.”
She had explained to Armande exactly what Hester Searle was capable of, revealing how Hester had been the one to lock her in the Gold room with Danby. She had apologized to Armande for accusing him, but he had shrugged the matter aside as being no longer of any importance, although he had expressed his wish that he could rid Phaedra of the woman’s irksome presence.
Phaedra saw no way of doing so. She could only beg him as she had before.
“Please, Armande. You have to take great care around that horrid woman.”
“So you have warned me many times before. I know full well how to protect myself, Phaedra.” The hard planes of his face softened with longing. “It is only with you that I have ever been in any danger. I sometimes think I would sell my soul to be able to tell you everything, hear you call me by my real name.”
