on you. To see if you were still resting. But since I find you awake, I’ll just leave you to Phoebe’s company till dinner.”
He surveyed her carefully. “You’re looking rather flushed,” he remarked. “Are you sure you’re not coming down with a fever?”
“Oh no, milord. I feel quite well.”
She could hardly tell him that her high color was the direct result of his presence. But she was quite certain he was the cause.
He came toward the bed and put a hand to her forehead. His touch was gentle, tender. Like a mother’s. Except that no mother’s touch had ever set a heart to such insane fluttering.
“No,” he said thoughtfully. “You don’t feel feverish.”
He turned to Phoebe. “If she seems tired, you will see that she rests.”
“Of course.”
“Then I’ll see you both at dinner.”
Aurelia stared after his departing figure, her mind a veritable chaos of thoughts.
There was silence for several moments after his departure. Then Phoebe turned back to the bed. “Well?”
“I ... I think perhaps you are right. I seem to have conceived a partiality for the Earl.”
Phoebe’s smile was ecstatic. “Oh, this is so romantic.”
Aurelia was still not convinced. “But Phoebe dear, these are my feelings. Not his lordship’s.”
Phoebe shook her head. “Oh, but I saw how he looked at you! With longing in his eyes. Just like the dark stranger looked at Corrinne.”
A modicum of sense still remained to Aurelia, but it was being rapidly reduced by visions of herself on Ranfield’s arm. Still, she tried hard to be sensible. “He has only been kind to me.”
“Kind!” Phoebe’s snort was very like her mother’s. “Kind needn’t include carrying you about like that. Or checking your forehead for a fever.”
“Phoebe!”
“It’s plain as the nose on your face,” Phoebe declared. “He’s taken with you.”
Aurelia sighed. “Oh, if only that were true.” To be wife to Ranfield—the picture was so enchanting she lost herself in it.
But she was not a green girl. Common sense had not entirely deserted her. “Oh, Phoebe, it simply won’t wash. Your cousin is merely being kind. He has no romantic interest in me.”
Phoebe frowned. “Then we shall see that he does.”
“Weshall?”
“Of course.”
Aurelia frowned. “But Phoebe, I thought ... That is, shouldn’t the woman wait for the man to fix his interest on her?”
Phoebe frowned and went to pleating her gown again. “Perhaps. But what if he doesn’t?”
“I don’t know. I know nothing of dangling after men. And as you said, you are equally ignorant.”
“I know.” Absently, Phoebe picked up the copy of The Dark Stranger and tapped it impatiently against her palm. “How to do it?” she mused. “How to ... ?”
And then, looking down, she smiled. “Aurelia! That’s it. It’s all here!”
The quick succession of emotions had left Aurelia bewildered. Could it have also affected her ability to comprehend? “I don’t understand.”
“It’s all here!” Phoebe repeated. “In Lady Incognita’s book. Aurelia, think. Doesn’t the dark stranger fall in love with Corrine?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Well, we’ll just see how she did it. And then we’ll do the same.”
“But Phoebe, The Dark Stranger is not life.”
“But did it not strike you as so real ...?”
“Yes, but we have no ruined abbeys, no ghosts, no ... And besides, Uncle Arthur will be coming.”
Phoebe frowned. “Do you want Ranfield to dangle after you or do you not?” she demanded.
In the face of such a question Aurelia could only breathe a heartfelt, “Oh, yes, I do.”
“Then we must use what we have. And what we have is The Dark Stranger.” Phoebe smiled. “We’ll find a way to keep you here.”
“Bat ...” Phoebe’s reasoning seemed faulty, somehow. Still, she was so insistent. And perhaps ... Who was to say that she was wrong? “All right,” Aurelia agreed, finally capitulating.
Phoebe shoved the book into her
He surveyed her carefully. “You’re looking rather flushed,” he remarked. “Are you sure you’re not coming down with a fever?”
“Oh no, milord. I feel quite well.”
She could hardly tell him that her high color was the direct result of his presence. But she was quite certain he was the cause.
He came toward the bed and put a hand to her forehead. His touch was gentle, tender. Like a mother’s. Except that no mother’s touch had ever set a heart to such insane fluttering.
“No,” he said thoughtfully. “You don’t feel feverish.”
He turned to Phoebe. “If she seems tired, you will see that she rests.”
“Of course.”
“Then I’ll see you both at dinner.”
Aurelia stared after his departing figure, her mind a veritable chaos of thoughts.
There was silence for several moments after his departure. Then Phoebe turned back to the bed. “Well?”
“I ... I think perhaps you are right. I seem to have conceived a partiality for the Earl.”
Phoebe’s smile was ecstatic. “Oh, this is so romantic.”
Aurelia was still not convinced. “But Phoebe dear, these are my feelings. Not his lordship’s.”
Phoebe shook her head. “Oh, but I saw how he looked at you! With longing in his eyes. Just like the dark stranger looked at Corrinne.”
A modicum of sense still remained to Aurelia, but it was being rapidly reduced by visions of herself on Ranfield’s arm. Still, she tried hard to be sensible. “He has only been kind to me.”
“Kind!” Phoebe’s snort was very like her mother’s. “Kind needn’t include carrying you about like that. Or checking your forehead for a fever.”
“Phoebe!”
“It’s plain as the nose on your face,” Phoebe declared. “He’s taken with you.”
Aurelia sighed. “Oh, if only that were true.” To be wife to Ranfield—the picture was so enchanting she lost herself in it.
But she was not a green girl. Common sense had not entirely deserted her. “Oh, Phoebe, it simply won’t wash. Your cousin is merely being kind. He has no romantic interest in me.”
Phoebe frowned. “Then we shall see that he does.”
“Weshall?”
“Of course.”
Aurelia frowned. “But Phoebe, I thought ... That is, shouldn’t the woman wait for the man to fix his interest on her?”
Phoebe frowned and went to pleating her gown again. “Perhaps. But what if he doesn’t?”
“I don’t know. I know nothing of dangling after men. And as you said, you are equally ignorant.”
“I know.” Absently, Phoebe picked up the copy of The Dark Stranger and tapped it impatiently against her palm. “How to do it?” she mused. “How to ... ?”
And then, looking down, she smiled. “Aurelia! That’s it. It’s all here!”
The quick succession of emotions had left Aurelia bewildered. Could it have also affected her ability to comprehend? “I don’t understand.”
“It’s all here!” Phoebe repeated. “In Lady Incognita’s book. Aurelia, think. Doesn’t the dark stranger fall in love with Corrine?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Well, we’ll just see how she did it. And then we’ll do the same.”
“But Phoebe, The Dark Stranger is not life.”
“But did it not strike you as so real ...?”
“Yes, but we have no ruined abbeys, no ghosts, no ... And besides, Uncle Arthur will be coming.”
Phoebe frowned. “Do you want Ranfield to dangle after you or do you not?” she demanded.
In the face of such a question Aurelia could only breathe a heartfelt, “Oh, yes, I do.”
“Then we must use what we have. And what we have is The Dark Stranger.” Phoebe smiled. “We’ll find a way to keep you here.”
“Bat ...” Phoebe’s reasoning seemed faulty, somehow. Still, she was so insistent. And perhaps ... Who was to say that she was wrong? “All right,” Aurelia agreed, finally capitulating.
Phoebe shoved the book into her
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