Letters for Phoebe by Sally Britton Page 0,26

friends, while Phoebe sat quietly nibbling upon a small cake. Strange, he had not thought her at all shy on previous occasions. But her mind may have turned to other matters, and Griffin had to hide his smile behind his cup when he saw Phoebe’s hand reach for the book at her side. She laid her palm upon it, and a blush returned to her cheeks.

Griffin took his leave with a feeling of lightness he had never experienced. Never before had he looked forward to an evening enough to wish the present time away. With his mother as chaperone, Griffin would sit next to Phoebe for an entire evening’s entertainment. If he was very lucky, he would move to the top of her list of suitors before the play ended.

Chapter 8

The Play is the Thing

To My Friend,

Tonight I go to see the very play you have mentioned, and perhaps you will see me there. I am escorted by one of the gentlemen you named to me, Mr. Fenwick. He is acquainted with my sister-in-law and her family, so I have more than your reference to know he is a good man. But I do not believe he is a man with any interest in matrimony at present. Rather, I hope he will know the others you have presented.

I find that I wonder if you and I are acquainted at all, sir. Perhaps you know my family. Though if that was so, why did you write to me a warning when you might have approached my brother? I confess that I am confused as to how you came to an awareness of my situation and interests. I understand why you must remain anonymous now, of course. We have exchanged enough letters to scandalize even the most lenient of chaperones.

But would you give me a hint, even the very smallest hint, as to your identity? On my honor, I promise I have no wish to cause you shame or anything unpleasant. I am merely curious.

Perhaps you will write to me after the play and tell me what you thought of the performance. I will happily share all my thoughts with you, my friend. I must send this letter on its way to you and prepare for an evening of great enjoyment.

Yours, etc.,

P.K.

Phoebe checked the arrangement of her hair once more in the parlor mirror. Mr. Fenwick would arrive at any moment to escort her to Covent Garden. She had eaten dinner alone, and early, in her room. Caroline and Joseph had left hours earlier, before she had even finished dressing for the evening.

She wore an amber cross and her bracelet, and red ribbons in her hair. Her gown was ivory with a red-net overlay that would shimmer in the soft gaslight of the theater. In her reticule she carried a red silk fan and Caroline’s opera telescope. After smoothing her dress and checking again that she had all she needed, Phoebe paced from the window to the hearth.

Her stomach felt rather full of loose feathers, tickling her until she could not sit still. What made her nervous, she could not tell. There was the excitement of the play, of course. Perhaps in part it was due to the anticipation of an evening with a handsome gentleman—for Griffin was quite handsome, even if he was not a serious suitor. But the idea that her anonymous friend could be present, that she might see him and not even know, set her to fidgeting. But what if she did recognize him? Perhaps he would give her a secret sign, or come upon her in the theater corridor and she would simply know it was he?

“The Fenwick carriage has arrived, Miss Kimball.” The butler’s pronouncement nearly made her leap out of her satin slippers.

“Oh. Thank you.” She smiled shakily and went to the door which opened at the same moment she stepped into the foyer.

Griffin stepped inside, his customary grin in place, until the moment he spied her. His grin faltered, his eyes grew wider, and Phoebe hastily put her hand upon her stomach to calm the dratted feathers.

“Miss Kimball.” He did not seem to know what else to say, as he simply stared at her. Phoebe’s cheeks warmed beneath his rather fierce gaze.

“Mr. Fenwick. Is your mother waiting for us in the carriage?”

He jolted back into awareness, his smile appearing almost pasted on. “Yes. Of course. Here, allow me.” He took her shawl from the butler and held it out to assist her.

“Thank you.” Phoebe