Michelle Styles - Impoverished Miss, Convenient Wife

‘My mother died as well. We can be friends, the kitten and I.’ He paused and his bottom lip trembled. ‘Will you protect me? I am not ready to go to heaven or to the other place. Mrs Smith says that I will burn for ever in the torment.’

‘Who says that you will die?’ Phoebe looked at him, shocked. How much had he heard of her whispered conversation with Mr Clare? How much about his condition did he know? ‘Did your papa tell you that? Or the doctor?’

‘They thought I was asleep—Mrs Smith and Gladys, the maid. I will go to hell because I am wicked through and through.’

Phoebe heard a growl behind her, but she held up her hand, stopping Mr Clare from speaking. She had to do this.

‘Sometimes you only think you hear things and really you are dreaming. It is best not to think on such things.’ Phoebe grasped Robert’s hand and his fingers folded around hers. ‘Shall I look after you for a little while? Your aunt would like that.’

‘You do not smell of barley water or peppermints.’ Robert’s lips turned up and he gave a tiny laugh. ‘And you have a kitten. I have often longed for a kitten. Do you think it might choose me?’

‘There is no accounting for kittens, but when you are stronger, I will introduce you.’ Phoebe did not dare to glance at Mr Clare. She could feel the heat of his gaze from where she knelt. Maybe he had learnt his lesson. He wouldn’t dismiss her as some silly woman who did not know how to run a sick room. ‘And you will only get stronger if you keep taking your medicine.’

‘Did…did my uncle say anything before you left? Did he send any message?’ His shoulders tensed. ‘He is not disappointed that I have had to come home from school, is he? I had promised him that I would stay at school, but they sent me home.’

‘Your uncle did indeed give me a message.’ Phoebe strove to keep her voice light. ‘He said that if you were to get well and strong, then he’d see about teaching you to drive a carriage, regardless of what your dear papa says.’

She ignored the outraged growl behind her.

Robert collapsed back against his pillows and all the tension eased out of him. ‘I want to get strong again. All my puff seems to have gone. The littlest thing appears to bother me.’

‘My cousin strikes me as a man who keeps his word.’

‘Uncle Brett does.’

‘And I will work with you to get you strong again.’ Phoebe gritted her teeth. Mr Clare would have to eat his words. She believed that she had proved him wrong. She would do all in her power to get Robert strong enough to drive carriages, with or without Mr Clare’s consent.

‘I will.’ Robert’s lashes fluttered closed. ‘I like you, Miss Benedict, you and your kitten.’

She watched him for another moment as his lips turned up into the sweetest smile and sleep claimed him. She pulled the blanket up to his chin and tiptoed out. A small glow of triumph filled her. She had succeeded. She could do this. This really would be a new beginning. All her debts would be paid and her stepbrothers would get the start in life that her father would have wanted them to have.

‘Very neatly done,’ Mr Clare said softly from where he stood watching her. ‘You seem to have a knack, Miss Benedict. It took Gladys and two strong footmen three hours to calm him last night. And the maid before her only lasted until Robert tossed a bowl of porridge at her. My words to you were hasty and ill thought out.’

Phoebe tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. She longed to say that she had told him so, but she would be magnanimous in her victory. He would never know how deeply his remarks had wounded her. ‘One learns a lot about boys and their ways when one has three stepbrothers. The so-called nurse did far more harm than good.’

‘She will be gone by morning light. I shudder to think what she nearly did…what she nearly had me believe. Her references were excellent.’

‘No doubt sent by people who were pleased to be rid of her!’ Phoebe wiped her hands on her gown. ‘I will need to freshen up and then there is the question of the boy’s care. We should discuss this downstairs, away from Robert.’

Mr Clare caught her elbow, stopping her progress. ‘It would appear my sister was correct to send you. You will work admirably if you wish to stay.’

‘There is no need to apologise.’ Phoebe attempted to ignore the sudden flood of warmth on her cheeks. ‘It must have come as a huge shock.’

‘I never apologise, Miss Benedict, for stating the truth. In this instance I was mistaken. I judged you too harshly.’

‘The important thing is that Robert is now sleeping.’ Phoebe clung on to the remnants of her temper.

‘Shall we quarrel about that as well?’ A smile touched Mr Clare’s face, transforming it. ‘I fear my sister will have misled you. My temper has become far shorter since the accident. I do assure you, Miss Benedict, that my bark is worse than my bite. Above all else, I want Robert to get well.’

‘Hopefully, there is a room near Robert’s where I can store my things.’ All the exhaustion from her long journey returned, crashing over her in one great wave. All she wanted was a warm bath and the welcoming embrace of clean sheets, but these would have to wait until Robert was better. She knew her duty. Phoebe stifled a yawn. Even the armchair in Robert’s room would be welcome after the hard springs of the coach.

‘I refuse to allow you to start tonight. You have just arrived. Someone will watch over him.’

Someone? Gladys, the upstairs maid? Did she dare risk another confrontation? Phoebe forced her body to relax. She had to be content with her small victory. He might decry arrogant aristocrats, but Mr Clare was without a doubt one of the most pigheaded people that she had ever met.

She willed a smile to cross her lips. Her time in the ton had taught her how to be polite to the rudest people. ‘Robert’s health is more important, Mr Clare. I want to hear if he cries out in his sleep.’

‘Very well, if you wish.’ He made a dismissive gesture with his hand. ‘Jenkins, put Miss Benedict’s things into the little room next to Robert’s rather than in Miss Diana’s old room. She appears determined to look after him. You will be able to hear Robert if he cries out.’

‘Your sister entrusted me with his care. I gave her my promise.’

‘How much did my sister tell you about this house?’

‘Very little. There was not time. Speed was of the essence according your letter.’ Phoebe kept her voice steady. ‘I expect I will learn the house rules as I go on.’

‘There is one request I must make of you, Miss Benedict.’ His face became stern. ‘Onnoaccountspeak to Robert about his mother.’

‘Why ever not?’ Phoebe’s eyes widened and she wished that she had questioned Lady Coltonby more closely about the precise nature of the situation. What had this boy’s mother done before she died?

‘I have no wish to encourage morbid fantasies. His mother is dead and that is the end of the matter.’

‘But—’ Phoebe stared at the man. Surely he had seen the hunger in Robert’s eyes when he mentioned that his mother had died. She knew what it was like to be alone and motherless. She knew what it was like to be without a family. Did Mr Clare?

‘That is the one charge I make on you.’ Mr Clare inclined his head. ‘I have agreed reluctantly to my sister’s scheme, but I will have the rules obeyed in my house.’

‘I will take it under advisement.’

‘You will obey my orders.’

‘If I had obeyed your orders, Robert would now be tied to his bed. Or, worse, in a madhouse. Robert is seriously ill and has been treated badly.’

Mr Clare opened and closed his mouth and his scar became a livid red. A small thrill of satisfaction ran through Phoebe. She enjoyed seeing the barb hit home. It might make her wicked, but she felt Mr Clare deserved it.