Letters for Phoebe by Sally Britton Page 0,32

he muttered to himself as he entered his family’s townhouse. But making his interest known in such a way would put pressure upon it, he well knew, and cause those with critical eyes to watch and wait and comment on the relationship.

“Griffin, darling, is that you?” His mother called from the drawing room. “Do come here, son, and tell me where you have been the last two days.”

Entering the room, Griffin saw his father seated in a chair with his feet on a stool. He looked over the book he was reading and smiled at his son. “Fair warning, all your mother really wants to know is whether you have seen Miss Kimball of late.”

Griffin’s mother embraced him, then shook her finger at her husband. “Do not pretend I am the only one who is curious. You have been speaking of her as much as I have.”

Though it somewhat alarmed him to know his parents had speculated on his relationship with Phoebe, Griffin decided it would be better if he were merely amused. He fixed his grin upon his face, kissed his mother on the cheek, then flopped inelegantly into the chair near his father.

“What do you think of Miss Kimball, Father?”

“Same as I did after the play. She is a lovely, lively young woman.” Mr. Fenwick closed his book and took off his spectacles. “Ask me what I think of you, Son.”

Raising his eyebrows, Griffin obeyed. “What do you think of me, Father?”

“I think,” his father said slowly, drawing each word out with some severity, “that you have avoided us these two days past because you like Miss Kimball excessively.”

“I concur,” Mrs. Fenwick said shortly. She walked to the mantel, hands clasped behind her back. “You have never shown such interest in a young lady before, Griffin.”

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat would give too much away. Instead, he tipped his head back and looked up at the ceiling. “Miss Kimball is lovely, I grant you. She has a lively mind, as you said. I find her to be intelligent and a witty conversationalist.”

“Then what keeps you from coming to know her better?” Mr. Fenwick asked, spectacles and book still in hand. “We raised you to recognize such things in others so that you would seek out the companionship of friends, and eventually a wife, with those fine qualities.”

Griffin considered the plastered ceiling with a grimace. “I do not think she views me entirely favorably. I am afraid our first introduction made me appear a fool, and I have hardly seen her since without there arising one problem or another. The theater was my first successful interaction with her since we met.” He swung his gaze down to his parents, his mother standing behind his father’s chair. “I rather wish for that impression to settle upon her before I try again.”

“And in the meantime, some cleverer chap will step in and—” His father’s unhelpful pronouncement was interrupted when Mrs. Fenwick covered her husband’s mouth with one hand.

“Your father made inquiries,” she said. “He quite likes what he has learned about the Kimballs.”

Mr. Fenwick took his wife’s hand, kissed it, then moved it to rest upon his shoulder. “Your mother made inquiries, too. We both like what she has learned about the young lady.”

Griffin looked from one parent’s knowing smile to the other. “I suppose that is a good thing?” He did not like the way they stared at him, as though they had something else to share but thought it far too delicious at present. “But what is this? You have never pushed me, either of you, to take a wife. Why all the interest now?”

“Because of your interest, obviously,” his father said.

His mother made a sound Griffin would never dare call a snort. “And because all our friends have grandchildren.”

Griffin’s mouth popped open. “Grandchildren? That is putting the cart before the horse, is it not?”

Husband and wife exchanged another look, then his mother sighed. “I was afraid we would encounter this reluctance. I forbid you to get our hopes up about a daughter-in-law, Griffin.”

“I have not—”

“And that is why,” she said, speaking over him, “I have invited Miss Kimball and her family to dinner this evening.”

Griffin nearly fell out of his chair. “You have?”

“Indeed.” She smiled and lifted her chin. “Be here at seven this evening, please. We need you to decide if we should pin our hopes on this young woman or if we ought to settle in for an even longer wait.”

Griffin opened and closed his mouth