Excerpt from Chapter Two
Phoebe was amazed at the change that had come over her normally serious brother. After the babies had arrived safely, he’d been seen smiling for no apparent reason—and at odd times during the day. He hadn’t been this happy for the longest time. Tears threatened at the realization that it had been before their father had died.
Needing to put those thoughts aside for now, she dug deep to do so. She could bring them back out later and have a good cry once she was alone in her bedchamber. “Would anyone care for a spot of tea? I’m sure I could convince Constance to prepare something for us to eat while the little ones nap for a bit.”
Persephone kissed her husband on the cheek as he bent to take their daughter in his arms. “Why don’t you ring for it?”
“I need to stretch my legs just a bit. Now that Jared is here, I don’t mind leaving you alone.”
Persephone frowned. “I am quite sure I can manage on my own.”
Jared stopped to stare at his wife. “Need I remind you of Dr. McIntyre’s orders?”
Persephone sighed. “You do not.”
“Excellent. Relax, my dear, while Phoebe has a visit with Constance, and perhaps one of her favorite treacle tarts while our cook prepares our tea tray.”
“I’ll be back in a trice,” Phoebe promised as she left the nursery. Hurrying along the hallway, she paused to smooth her skirts at the top of the stairs. The sound of a familiar voice had her looking over the railing. She didn’t see her very good friend, Lady Calliope, the new Viscountess Chattsworth, but her husband, the viscount, stood quietly talking to Humphries, the butler.
She rushed down the stairs, taking the man by surprise, flinging herself into his arms. “William! It’s so wonderful to see you. Where is Calliope? Didn’t she come with you?”
Marcus caught the delightful armful against him and held her there a heartbeat longer than was proper. The curvaceous young woman pressed against him had his full attention. Before his body outpaced his brain, embarrassing the chit with his body’s swift reaction to her fulsome form, he eased her out of his arms.
She had the dark chestnut hair and brilliant blue eyes of his Lippincott cousins. This couldn’t be Lady Phoebe, could it? Only one way to find out. He bowed low over her hand. “I sincerely regret that I am not my cousin, William.”
Her cheeks flushed a fetching shade of rose. “Do forgive me. I am certain you are quite shocked at my forward behavior, but I did think you were my very good friend Calliope’s new husband.”
He released her hand and stepped back to better study the lovely young woman. “You have to be kin to my cousins the duke and the earl.”
“Er…yes. They are my brothers. I’m Lady Phoebe.”
“Delighted to make your acquaintance, Lady Phoebe. Baron Marcus Summerfield at your service. I have an appointment with the duke.”
Humphries cleared his throat, calling attention to himself. “I’m afraid the duke is otherwise engaged.”
Without missing a beat, he reached into this waistcoat pocket. “I brought the duke’s missive with me on the off chance that you require it.”
Phoebe was listening quite intently to the exchange. He wondered if the butler was the only person informed of his impending arrival. Why in the bloody hell was the duke otherwise engaged? Before he could ask, a familiar-looking, light-haired man strode toward them.
He frowned as he spoke. “Ye must be Baron Summerfield.”
The man was a whole head taller than Marcus and wider through the shoulders. Recognition filled him. “Are you perchance related to Michael O’Malley?”
The man grinned. “Patrick O’Malley at yer service.”
The baron nodded. “I believe my cousin, William, has mentioned…er…meeting you and your brother.”
Patrick chuckled. “Me brother, Finn. Michael’s one of our cousins. We’re part of the duke’s guard, and ye’d be the viscount’s cousin.” He frowned and asked, “Did ye not get the duke’s missive?”
Marcus held it up. “Brought it with me. Dashed if I thought it would be required to gain entry.”
Phoebe finally spoke up. “Patrick, what are you talking about?”
“Beggin’ yer pardon, Lady Phoebe, but is there somethin’ ye needed?”
Marcus wondered if the guard had seen the woman fling herself at him. The laughter was gone from O’Malley’s gaze replaced by a hard look in the man’s eyes. A silent warning to keep his distance. He took a half-step back, adding to the space between himself and the delightful Lady Phoebe. Rumors of her beauty did not do her justice—she was exquisite!
She sighed. “I needed to apologize to his lordship,” she explained. “I mistook him for Viscount Chattsworth.”
“Understandable,” the baron added, his glance never leaving O’Malley’s. “Happens quite frequently.”
O’Malley was listening closely to their conversation.
“Your apology is appreciated, but not necessary.”
“Thank you.” She curtseyed and rushed off down the hallway.
“Is the duke’s sister always in such a hurry?”
O’Malley stared at him. He answered the baron’s question with a question. “Did ye not receive the duke’s missive postponin’ yer meetin’?”
“I did not. When did the duke send it?”
“Just last week when the babes were born.”
Marcus smiled. “My cousin is a father? He must be in high dudgeon.”
Before he could ask after the duchess, O’Malley was shaking his head. “If ye received the first missive, there is no reason for ye not to have received the second.”
Marcus paused to think about it. “I haven’t been home in a number of weeks. I’ve been in London and, more recently, visiting with William and Calliope at Chattsworth Manor in Sussex.”
“Have ye now.”
The duke appeared at the top of the stairs and grumbled, “Keep your voices down! There are little ones trying to sleep.”
Marcus was surprised that William’s description of their cousin was so off base. The man was far from impeccably attired. If anything, the duke was more than a bit on the rumpled side.
The duke stared at him for a few moments before he asked, “Did you not get my missive, Summerfield?”
“I already asked him, Yer Grace,” O’Malley explained. “Apparently, the missive arrived, but his lordship was not there to receive it.”
“You don’t say,” the duke murmured. “Most inconvenient. But since you’ve come all the way from Sussex if I heard correctly, I shall see if my wife can manage without me for the rest of the afternoon.”
The baron wondered at the idea of the duke checking with his wife before he met with him but did not dare to comment on it. William’s report was off the mark in this regard as well. He decided to ignore the viscount’s warnings. He would be better served to observe and form his own opinions.
“Humphries, please show his lordship to my study. I shall be down shortly.”
“This way, your lordship.”
Marcus followed the staid butler. While wondering if the duke’s household was always in such an uproar, thoughts of the dark-haired, blue-eyed beauty intruded. Mayhap he would have the chance to speak with her again before he left.
He could still feel the impact of her curves against him, reliving that moment in time, when he’d briefly experienced Heaven holding her in his arms. Inhaling deeply, he caught the faint scent of lavender and roses. Soft and bold…an interesting combination and quite apropos, given his impression of Lady Phoebe.
The butler cleared his throat to call attention to himself. “If you’d wait in here, His Grace will be with you shortly.”
“Thank you.” Marcus wondered where she’d rushed off to and if she always dashed about. Something to ponder while he awaited the duke’s pleasure.
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