Devil's Daughter (The Ravenels #5) - Lisa Kleypas Page 0,64

or two, he came back from the threshold with a basket. Looking both perturbed and amused, he brought it to Phoebe. “This was delivered to the station for you.”

“Just now?” Phoebe asked with a nonplussed laugh. “Why, I believe it’s Ernestine’s mending basket! Don’t say the Ravenels went to the trouble of sending someone all the way to Alton to return it?”

“It’s not empty,” her father said. As he set the basket in her lap, it quivered and rustled, and a blood-curdling yowl emerged.

Astonished, Phoebe fumbled with the latch on the lid and opened it.

The black cat sprang out and crawled frantically up her front, clinging to her shoulder with such ferocity that nothing could have detached her claws.

“Galoshes!” Justin exclaimed, hurrying over to her.

“Gosh-gosh!” Stephen cried in excitement.

Phoebe stroked the frantic cat and tried to calm her. “Galoshes, how . . . why are you . . . oh, this is Mr. Ravenel’s doing! I’m going to murder him. You poor little thing.”

Justin came to stand beside her, running his hands over the dusty, bedraggled feline. “Are we going to keep her now, Mama?”

“I don’t think we have a choice,” Phoebe said distractedly. “Ivo, will you go with Justin to the dining compartment, and fetch her some food and water?”

The two boys dashed off immediately.

“Why has he done this?” Phoebe fretted. “He probably couldn’t make her stay at the barn, either. But she’s not meant to be a pet. She’s sure to run off as soon as we reach home.”

Resuming his seat next to Evie, Sebastian said dryly, “Redbird, I doubt that creature will stray more than an arm’s length from you.”

Discovering a note in the mending basket, Phoebe plucked it out and unfolded it. She instantly recognized West’s handwriting.

Unemployed Feline Seeking Household Position

To Whom It May Concern,

I hereby offer my services as an experienced mouser and personal companion. References from a reputable family to be provided upon request. Willing to accept room and board in lieu of pay. Indoor lodgings preferred.

Your servant,

Galoshes the Cat

Glancing up from the note, Phoebe found her parents’ questioning gazes on her. “Job application,” she explained sourly. “From the cat.”

“How charming,” Seraphina exclaimed, reading over her shoulder.

“‘Personal companion,’ my foot,” Phoebe muttered. “This is a semi-feral animal who has lived in outbuildings and fed on vermin.”

“I wonder,” Seraphina said thoughtfully. “If she were truly feral, she wouldn’t want any contact with humans. With time and patience, she might become domesticated.”

Phoebe rolled her eyes. “It seems we’ll find out.”

The boys returned from the dining car with a bowl of water and a tray of refreshments. Galoshes descended to the floor long enough to devour a boiled egg, an anchovy canapé, and a spoonful of black caviar from a silver dish on ice. Licking her lips and purring, the cat jumped back into Phoebe’s lap and curled up with a sigh.

“I’d say she’s adjusting quite well,” Seraphina commented with a grin, and elbowed Phoebe gently. “One never knows who might rise above their disreputable past.”

Two strikes of the bell and a long whistle blast signaled the train’s departure. As the locomotive began to pull away from Alton Station, Phoebe felt a hollowing sadness inside. There was something melancholy about a train whistle, the twin notes bracketing the air like an empty set of parentheses. Overcome by a longing that, for once, had nothing to do with Henry, she nudged aside the edge of a gold-fringed curtain to look at the platform.

Among the milling of passengers and porters, a lean, dark form stood with a shoulder casually propped against a support column.

West.

Their gazes met across the platform as the railway carriage passed. Phoebe stopped breathing, waves of alternating heat and chills leaving her shaken. It wasn’t just physical desire—although that was certainly a considerable part of it. In the measure of a few days, a connection had formed between them. An inconvenient, painful connection that she hoped wouldn’t last for long. She stared at him without blinking, trying to keep him in her vision every possible second.

With a faint curve of his mouth, West reached up to touch the low brim of his hat. Then he was out of sight.

Chapter 20

Essex

Three months later

Phoebe looked up from her writing desk as Edward Larson’s tall, lanky form strode into the front parlor of Clare Manor. “Good morning,” she said brightly. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

A warm smile crossed his lean face. “A pleasant surprise, I hope.”

“Naturally.”

As always, Edward was impeccably dressed and groomed, the perfect picture of a country gentleman.