He nodded once, his eyes carefully measuring her reaction.
“Do you suppose society is aware of your family’s secret?”
His flinch was subtle, but it was there. “Years ago, they were very much aware, and the scandal of it all but ruined my father. To protect us, he took his children and left England. We have not returned since.”
“And once you do…there are those who will stir those old rumours with the violence of a winter storm.”
“Yes.”
A lesser family would simply stay away from it all, as many did who had fallen to ruin. The entire family would eschew all of society and bury themselves away in the country with little opportunities for any pursuits, whether it be studies, marriage, or the frivolous kind—all would be made impossible.
If any family that had been cut dared to return to town without the approval of those who deemed themselves the arbiters of high society’s circle, they would find themselves shunned socially, politically, and even financially as bank doors and investment clubs would be closed to their queries. Those powerful lords and ladies in the ton could be merciless when they deem a family should stay away.
Memories of how terrible they had been to her brother set her throat to aching. Only that he had been even more ruthless and uncaring of society’s opinion had seen him, his darling wife Evie, and his band of children, whom he had taken into his heart and home, safe. And her family, Hugh and Caroline, would face it shortly. And it seemed her husband might be just as cunning in dealing with the lot.
Phoebe was decidedly unsure of just how she should feel about her assessment of him in that moment. She found him vaguely disturbing and terribly compelling. “Is that why you advertised for a wife? Not wanting to wade through the scandal and idle gossip you would have faced in the marriage mart.”
“The old earl is dying with only a few weeks left to live. Advertising seemed the most expedient way of satisfying his wish before…”
“Dying! I cannot credit it!” The earl, while he avoided her most ardently, did not act like a man who hovered at death’s door. “Are you certain?”
“I am.”
“You do not seem alarmed by the prospect that something so dreadful hovers.”
“I have accepted it, and so has he.”
Her heart ached for him, and that notion that he was so very carefully contained with his emotions occurred to her again. Do you not feel? She was tempted to ask but wisely held her reckless tongue. “Will you be taking Caroline with us when we return to England?”
He glanced away toward the small waterfall for several moments before lifting his hands and signing, “Yes.”
“Are you worried about her reception?”
“She is dreadfully improper and has big dreams in her heart. Those dreams will take her to London for a come out that must be spectacular.”
Phoebe hesitated, torn by conflicting emotions. “She is also not the earl’s daughter,” she said softly, unable to understand how their mother could have been so terribly selfish. “Where…may I ask where your mother is?”
“In Edinburgh. She is quite famous for her charm and beauty, and the papers take great pleasure in recounting her famous exploits.”
“Is she to return home soon?” It had been several weeks since they had married, and no one had mentioned the marchioness. Phoebe had even wondered if their mother had died and had thought it odd no portrait of hers hung in the hallways.
“Unlikely, since she left us some fifteen years ago and has never been back once.”
A shock went through Phoebe’s entire body; then their gazes collided. “She left?” The scandal must have been horrifying. Good heavens. “By her own choice or did the earl…”
His eyes chilled, and discomfort curled through Phoebe.
“By her own will. The confines of marriage and children were gathered to be dull. We are uncertain since no explanation has ever been given.”
How abominable of her. Phoebe leaned forward and grasped one of his hands. She laced their fingers together, wishing to comfort him in any manner she could. He allowed this, a curious expression in his eyes. “I am so terribly sorry for the pain you must have endured and must still suffer knowing she is here in Scotland and quite uncaring!”
A brow arched, his gaze grew even more remote, and when he tugged his hands from hers for a moment, she felt bereft.
“You mistake the matter. It is of no consequences that she is gone. Good riddance to her disloyalty and inconstancy.”
She winced at his flat dismissal. “But surely should she return—” It was that remarkable indifference in his mien that caused her to stop speaking.
An uncomfortable silence lingered, and she couldn’t say what madness prompted her to ask, “And if one day I should leave?” Phoebe discerned that the reserve she had always sensed within him was rooted deeply in this very moment. It felt silly that she asked, and she took a breath to beg him to ignore her words when his fingers leaped to life.
“If it is after you have done your part of the bargain, if you are to leave, it would be of little consequence.”
“Oh!” she gasped, almost overcome by mortification. Phoebe believed she interpreted it correctly to mean that she was of little to no consequence to him. She realized in that moment he had no expectations of her, beyond whatever had prompted him to marry her. The awareness left her feeling wretched.
His eyes caressed over her face, searching every nuance of her expression. How stricken she must appear, and she schooled her features into a pleasant mask. The ache that filled her heart was bewildering because it was all for the man before her. How he must have hurt when his mother left, enough so that he seemed to exile his emotions from all states of feeling.
She recalled with perfect clarity then, his letters and how indignant she had initially been at his dismissal of love.
I do not plan to leave you, she promised him silently, a soft smile curving her mouth.
The shift in her countenance had him canting his head and staring at her.
“Your smile, it is very beautiful.”
Her cheeks coloured under the heated intensity of his gaze. How foolish! To blush so easily at a compliment as if she were a silly girl fresh from the school room. “You flatter me, thank you.” Before he could respond, she continued, “I would like to dip my feet in the brook.” The cool water had a wonderful way of easing the ache she oftentimes endured in her ankles, and this ritual had become a part of their morning routine.
With spry grace, he pushed to his feet before coming over to her. It was always so difficult to get up, and Phoebe suspected that soon they would have to stop coming here, because surely her belly would only get larger. The doctor had informed her she had at least two months to go before the birthing, and to Phoebe’s mind, each day her belly grew an inch. He came down to almost her level, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and braced as he eased her to her feet.