To Dance until Dawn - Emma V. Leech Page 0,53

in the Chapel at Dern, if… if you don’t mind very much. Papa and Mama would be so disappointed. Oh, and my brothers, and Pippin and—”

“It’s all right,” he said, laughing. “I’ll wait. I’ll wait as long as you wish, but I can’t pretend I won’t be impatient to make you my own.”

Warmth suffused her, the pleasure she took from his words making her sigh happily.

“You are rather wonderful, aren’t you?”

Max rolled his eyes. “I don’t like to say I told you so.”

Phoebe laughed and then shrieked as he swept her up into his arms.

“Mind your head!” she cried, and he ducked just in time to avoid another beam.

Placing her carefully on the bed, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her mouth. “I’ll have a maid sent up to help ready you for bed.”

“Oh, but where are you going?” she protested.

“For a walk,” he said ruefully. “A very, very long walk.”

Chapter 13

Dear diary,

I do solemnly swear that if my brother and his blasted friend steal my diary again, I shall have no choice but to seek vengeance. They had better understand that my wrath is a terrible thing and best avoided.

Cassius Cadogan—you have been warned!

―Excerpt of an entry by Lady Elizabeth Adolphus, to her diary.

10th April 1827. Montreuil sur Mer, Pas-de-Calais, France.

Despite having prepared himself for the onslaught—well understanding Phoebe’s warning that she’d chosen the most respectable of outfits the previous morning—Max still gaped like a fool when she came down to breakfast.

“Holy Mother,” Viscount Kline said in a breathless tone of wonder for which Max rather wanted to kick him.

He might have, if he’d been able to tear his eyes from Phoebe. As before, the rest of the hotel seemed similarly afflicted. She was coming down the stairs, this time dressed in a fanciful creation of bright cobalt blue with a green trim that put him in mind of Mediterranean seas and parrots. It was the mad hat and the overabundance of feathers that did it, he was sure. By the time she’d reached the bottom, three young dandies had spied her and were waiting for her to touch her dainty foot to the floor.

Max braced for impact.

The first fool rushed up to her brandishing a lace handkerchief and, though Max could neither understand nor hear what was said, he felt certain the fellow was pretending he’d found it and was asking if it was hers. Phoebe gave the young man a curious look, as aware as Max was that the handkerchief belonged to the young man himself. This ploy, having given the fellow the means by which to speak with her, was quickly taken up by the other two, and now three lace hankies were being brandished in her face.

Max watched with amusement as Phoebe patiently produced her own, smiled, and sashayed past them. The three young men immediately fell to bickering, no doubt about which one messed up their perfectly sound plan and spoiled his chances.

“Does she create this stir wherever she goes?” Kline asked, giving Max a faintly pitying expression.

“Yes.”

“That’s it,” Kline said with a heavy sigh. “The next time, I’m marrying a comfortable, quiet and plain girl. The kind who likes books and staying at home, and can’t abide fashion and parties. I’ve had far too much excitement for one lifetime. Not that I believe Lady Ellisborough to be the least bit like the late, unlamented Lady Kline,” he said hastily, looking appalled lest Max should take offence. “It’s just that when even the sweetest natured women look like that, they attract trouble through no fault of their own. Men act like imbeciles once they get within a mile of them. It’s like… like….”

“Like wondering when and where the next bomb will go off,” Max supplied helpfully.

“Quite.” Kline regarded him with a thoughtful frown. “You rather like things exploding, though, don’t you?”

Max could not help but laugh. “I’m beginning to believe I do.”

Kline grinned at him. “You know, you look rather worn out, old man.”

Max declined to comment, having spent a restless night in a chair, far too aware of his fiancée tucked up warm in the spacious bed not ten feet away from him.

“I’m sorry I’m so late,” Phoebe said, as they got to their feet. “Have I missed breakfast?”

“Of course not,” Max said, tucking her arm through his. “As if I would let you go hungry.”

Phoebe chuckled.

“It would be a bad idea if we’re to share a carriage,” she said with a smile before whispering loudly to Viscount Kline. “I’m