stop her.
The viscount’s eyes grew wide and warmed considerably, an expression of delight on his face as he regarded Phoebe. Even the Frenchman looked rather dazed.
“Phoebe!” Max muttered, trying to drag her back before she started a fight of a different variety.
She glared at him and folded her arms. “Max, you are a man of many talents, but your French is horrible. Leave this to me, if you please.”
Kline gave a startled bark of laughter and grinned at Max.
“You lucky devil,” he murmured.
Max could only hope he was right.
***
Phoebe eyed the Frenchman and Viscount Kline with a little trepidation. Both were large men, and she did not much want to get between them, but the violent atmosphere had already dissipated somewhat, so perhaps she could sort this out and avoid bloodshed.
“Please, could you describe the viscount’s wife?” she asked the fellow.
At this, the man’s eyes took on a rather wicked expression and he did as she requested in rather too much detail. Phoebe blushed.
“What the hell did he just say?” Max demanded, pushing forward.
Oh, good Lord.
“Nothing!” Phoebe said in a rush, placing her hands flat on Max’s chest and pushing back, which was a rather useless if illuminating endeavour. He didn’t budge in the slightest. Goodness, but he was solid. Fighting to keep her mind on the problem at hand, Phoebe looked up at him, pleading in her eyes. “He wasn’t speaking of me. I asked him to describe Lady Kline and… and he seems to think she’s, er… extremely attractive.”
The viscount brightened considerably at this news.
“Really?” he said with interest. “Then I must insist on making her acquaintance.”
Phoebe returned her attention to the Frenchman, who growled a response.
“Oh dear, she’s taken the diligence and is on her way to Abbeville.”
Kline snorted. “It’s all a hum if you ask me. The fellow is just trying to extort more money from me.”
Phoebe shook her head. “I don’t think so, he says she signed the register and you’re welcome to see it. She was here two days and left this morning.”
She turned back to the indignant Frenchman and gleaned as much extra information as she could manage.
“He says the lady told him her husband had been delayed, but would pay her bills on his arrival. She’s going to Paris. He says you can’t miss her.”
“Indeed, I shan’t,” Kline said, frowning in puzzlement. “What the devil is going on?”
Phoebe could not explain, having no idea, but she returned once more to speak with the Frenchman. She explained that Lady Kline had died nearly two years ago, and that the viscount did not know who the lady in question was. This produced such a volley of injured feeling from the poor fellow at having been so duped that Phoebe turned pleading eyes on Max. It was not his job to sort out this mess but she did not know who else to turn to as Kline was so obviously angry about the situation.
“Oh, dear, Max.”
Max sighed and nodded, and she beamed at him before explaining that Lord Ellisborough would pay the woman’s shot for her.
“I say, what’s he grinning about?” Kline demanded, suspicious now.
“Oh, I told him Lord Ellisborough would pay, just to keep the peace,” Phoebe said in a rush. “The poor man was going to give himself a nervous collapse if he kept on. I understand the manager is his uncle. He’s rather a stern fellow and would take it out of his wages.”
“Well, that’s dashed kind of you,” Kline said a little stiffly, “But I can pay my own bills.”
Phoebe was extremely pleased to hear this, as Max ought not have to pay and the last she’d heard Kline was in financial difficulties.
“But she’s not your wife,” Max pointed out.
“No, and she’s not yours, by God,” Kline retorted, laughing. “But it’s my name she’s bandying about. Speaking of wives,” the viscount added, a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?”
Max hesitated, and Phoebe understood his difficulty. It was one thing to go about with his wife in France, among people who did not know them, but Viscount Kline was a part of their world.
“I’m Lady Phoebe Ellisborough,” Phoebe said, holding out her hand to the viscount before she could think too much about what she was doing. “We have met before, actually, though it was years ago. I was Miss Barrington before we married.”
She slipped her arm through Max’s, and blushed as she saw the delighted look in his eyes.
“We’re on our honeymoon,” she added, wondering