your mind would only do himself a disservice.” Griffin looked down at her, wondering if he dared try for an invitation into her home. It would save him from the rain and provide entertainment.
What made him laugh turned her sober. “It intrigues me that you think so. My own brother is forever telling me to curb my tongue.”
“That is a shame. I find myself amused whenever we have an opportunity to converse.”
“Amused?” she asked, eyebrows drawing downward.
Griffin nodded and released her arm. “It is rare a woman speaks her mind as you do.”
“And a woman speaking her mind is…amusing.” Her tone remained flat, which he ought to have taken as a warning.
Griffin only widened his smile as he continued speaking, ready to explain how much he enjoyed their verbal battles. “Of course. It is refreshing to hear a woman converse with such lightness and wit. Most cannot take what you say seriously—”
Miss Kimball raised her hand, halting him mid-sentence. “That is quite enough.” Then she balled that delicate gloved hand into a fist, lowering it to her side while her cheeks turned red. “Most, in fact, do not take what I say seriously. I always thought that a mark against their intelligence, not my own.”
As she spoke, Griffin’s horror grew. Something had gone terribly wrong in their conversation. “Miss Kimball, if you will let me explain—”
She cut him off again, at the same moment a large raindrop fell past the brim of his hat. “I have no desire to converse further. I apologize for ending your entertainment this afternoon, but the show cannot go on in the rain. Good day, Mr. Fenwick.” She turned from him and ran up the steps. The door opened and when it slammed shut behind her, the sky broke open above.
Griffin stood like an addle-pated dunce, staring at the closed door. The rain did not care that it soaked him and came down all the harder.
At last he turned, walking away. What a fool he was. Even if they had come along in their relationship, apparently, she knew him less than he did her. He needed to mind his tongue. The conversation had turned too quickly, and now he needed to make amends. But when? And more importantly, how?
Phoebe paced her bedroom, the glow of the gas lamp the only light. None came from outside, despite the early evening hour, due to the heavy clouds storming above Town. The rain beat against her window, the sound soothing her troubled thoughts.
The letter from her anonymous friend lay open upon her writing desk, a blank sheet of paper beside it.
“Do share your list with me…”
Dare she? Having one man laugh at her that day had shaken her. Mr. Fenwick had seemed like the sort of man one might befriend, but knowing he only spoke to her because she amused him had stung.
Phoebe put her hand over the red beads of her bracelet, rolling the accessory down to her wrist again. How she missed her friends. If only they were near to one another and could laugh away their troubles as they had at school.
What would they advise?
She went to the desk and sat, staring at the neat handwriting of the man with the rampant lion seal. Who was he, and why had he taken an interest in her? Enough of an interest to warn her not once, but twice?
He had to be a gentleman. At least, that was what she hoped. But was he an elderly fellow merely doing her a kindness? Somehow, she doubted it, given the firm hand he used. And the humor in his words.
It was dangerous for a woman to write to a gentleman, let alone a stranger.
But the little flower girl would warn her if there was something amiss, wouldn’t she?
The memory of Griffin Fenwick’s smirk, his hurtful words, goaded her at last.
Biting her bottom lip, Phoebe took up the pen.
Chapter 6
An Evening of Dancing
My Dear Friend,
I am not certain many would call me clever. How clever is it, for example, to write out one’s hopes and wishes to a complete stranger? I will have to trust to your honor, sir, whoever you might be.
I suppose I wish for the usual things in a gentleman, in terms of health and general good nature. But when I think on those things that I most hope for, that I want to be part of my life, I find myself hoping for a generosity of spirit. I also wish to find a man who will