with a misty smile. “Now Freddy, what have you found out about our mystery lady?”
“Her name is Lady Serena Weir . . .”
Chapter Five
A s Robert walked toward Grosvenor Square, he felt better than he had in weeks. Wilson, the Dunwood butler, showed him to the library, where Marcus, working on some papers, glanced up as Robert was announced.
“Robert, what brings you here?”
He took in the stack of documents on the large mahogany partner’s desk. “I don’t wish to disturb you. Do you have time?”
Marcus waved his hand at the papers. “Don’t let this bother you. I don’t have to do it all myself. That’s one of the joys of having a wife who knows as much about estate management as do I. Please, come in.”
He motioned Robert to a chair.
Robert sat and tried unsuccessfully to sort his thoughts. This was not going to be as easy as he’d supposed. “Marcus, when you were courting Phoebe, did you feel, well, crazed?”
“Crazed, exasperated, murderous, as well as a number of other things,” Marcus said. “What has my courtship with Phoebe to do with you?”
Robert swallowed. “Well I—I, I’m not quite sure how to put this . . .”
Marcus’s face darkened. “Put what? Is it something to do with Phoebe?”
“No, no. I need advice because . . . I am not feeling at all the thing lately, and I came to ask for Phoebe’s help.”
Marcus’s lips twitched. “Robert, are you trying to tell me you think you might be in love?”
Beaumont recoiled as if his friend had thrown a punch. “ Love? No. It’s not possible.”
He slumped in the chair and sunk into his own thoughts. The problem was they weren’t telling him anything useful.
Marcus waited.
After a few moments, Robert gave up trying to sort out his muddled mind. Lifting his head, he fixed Marcus with a stare. “How would I recognize if I’m in love? Not that I am, but, with Phoebe, how did you know?”
“I was in a pretty fair way to being in love, but when my beloved wife knocked me down, I was sure of it. Though I don’t recommend it as an experience.”
“Phoebe hit you? Why?”
“I was stupid.”
Robert stared out the window as Marcus went to the sideboard.
“Would you like anything to drink?” Marcus asked.
“A wine, thank you.”
Marcus tugged the bell pull and a footman popped his head in the room. “Yes, my lord?”
“Please ask her ladyship to attend me.”
The door closed. Marcus gave a glass of wine to Robert and took one for himself.
A few minutes later Phoebe entered. She glanced at Robert.
Marcus shrugged. “The only thing I’ve been able to determine is Robert’s not in love. Perhaps you can discern what the problem is. I have great faith in your powers of perception, my dear.”
Phoebe sat on the small sofa next to the chair Lord Beaumont occupied. “Robert, what is it and how can we help?”
If he knew what the deuce was wrong, he wouldn’t be here. Frustrated, he said, “I’m having these feelings, and—and I don’t know what they are. Marcus says I’m in love, but I can’t be . . .”
Phoebe bit her lip. “You have an attraction for someone?”
Attraction? Damned obsession might be more accurate. “Yes, that’s it, and I can’t seem to think of anything else. I feel as if I am walking in circles, and—”
Marcus interrupted. “Just to be clear, Beaumont, you are talking about a gently-bred female, not a . . .”
“Marcus, do be quiet. Of course he’s talking about a lady.” Phoebe turned back to Beaumont. “Go on Robert. Tell me about her. Is she someone I know?”
“It’s Lady Serena.” He groaned.
Marcus handed Phoebe a glass of wine. “You may need this.”
She smiled at him. “Come Robert, it cannot be that bad. If you think you like Lady Serena you should come to know her better, and then, if you find you suit, you may try to fix her attention.”
Suddenly Robert felt a glimmer of hope. “My aunt Freddy is going to arrange for me to receive cards again and
“Her name is Lady Serena Weir . . .”
Chapter Five
A s Robert walked toward Grosvenor Square, he felt better than he had in weeks. Wilson, the Dunwood butler, showed him to the library, where Marcus, working on some papers, glanced up as Robert was announced.
“Robert, what brings you here?”
He took in the stack of documents on the large mahogany partner’s desk. “I don’t wish to disturb you. Do you have time?”
Marcus waved his hand at the papers. “Don’t let this bother you. I don’t have to do it all myself. That’s one of the joys of having a wife who knows as much about estate management as do I. Please, come in.”
He motioned Robert to a chair.
Robert sat and tried unsuccessfully to sort his thoughts. This was not going to be as easy as he’d supposed. “Marcus, when you were courting Phoebe, did you feel, well, crazed?”
“Crazed, exasperated, murderous, as well as a number of other things,” Marcus said. “What has my courtship with Phoebe to do with you?”
Robert swallowed. “Well I—I, I’m not quite sure how to put this . . .”
Marcus’s face darkened. “Put what? Is it something to do with Phoebe?”
“No, no. I need advice because . . . I am not feeling at all the thing lately, and I came to ask for Phoebe’s help.”
Marcus’s lips twitched. “Robert, are you trying to tell me you think you might be in love?”
Beaumont recoiled as if his friend had thrown a punch. “ Love? No. It’s not possible.”
He slumped in the chair and sunk into his own thoughts. The problem was they weren’t telling him anything useful.
Marcus waited.
After a few moments, Robert gave up trying to sort out his muddled mind. Lifting his head, he fixed Marcus with a stare. “How would I recognize if I’m in love? Not that I am, but, with Phoebe, how did you know?”
“I was in a pretty fair way to being in love, but when my beloved wife knocked me down, I was sure of it. Though I don’t recommend it as an experience.”
“Phoebe hit you? Why?”
“I was stupid.”
Robert stared out the window as Marcus went to the sideboard.
“Would you like anything to drink?” Marcus asked.
“A wine, thank you.”
Marcus tugged the bell pull and a footman popped his head in the room. “Yes, my lord?”
“Please ask her ladyship to attend me.”
The door closed. Marcus gave a glass of wine to Robert and took one for himself.
A few minutes later Phoebe entered. She glanced at Robert.
Marcus shrugged. “The only thing I’ve been able to determine is Robert’s not in love. Perhaps you can discern what the problem is. I have great faith in your powers of perception, my dear.”
Phoebe sat on the small sofa next to the chair Lord Beaumont occupied. “Robert, what is it and how can we help?”
If he knew what the deuce was wrong, he wouldn’t be here. Frustrated, he said, “I’m having these feelings, and—and I don’t know what they are. Marcus says I’m in love, but I can’t be . . .”
Phoebe bit her lip. “You have an attraction for someone?”
Attraction? Damned obsession might be more accurate. “Yes, that’s it, and I can’t seem to think of anything else. I feel as if I am walking in circles, and—”
Marcus interrupted. “Just to be clear, Beaumont, you are talking about a gently-bred female, not a . . .”
“Marcus, do be quiet. Of course he’s talking about a lady.” Phoebe turned back to Beaumont. “Go on Robert. Tell me about her. Is she someone I know?”
“It’s Lady Serena.” He groaned.
Marcus handed Phoebe a glass of wine. “You may need this.”
She smiled at him. “Come Robert, it cannot be that bad. If you think you like Lady Serena you should come to know her better, and then, if you find you suit, you may try to fix her attention.”
Suddenly Robert felt a glimmer of hope. “My aunt Freddy is going to arrange for me to receive cards again and
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