“Excellent,” Max said with a satisfied nod. “Well, then, Phoebe. If you are ready?”
Phoebe nodded and Kline rose as she did, holding out his hand to her. He lifted her fingers to his lips and kissed them gently.
“It has been a pleasure to meet you, Lady Ellisborough,” he said. “And if your carriage and driver fail to appear, do come and find me. I should be charmed to continue the journey to Paris in your company.”
Max made a sound which might have been taken as thanks, but Kline would well know was more like Not if I can help it.
“Thank you, Charlie,” Phoebe said. “It’s been so nice spending time with you. I do hope we see you again soon, and good luck with finding Lady Kline.”
The viscount laughed. “Ah, yes, my fictitious wife. I cannot wait to make her acquaintance.”
Max guided Phoebe out of the hotel and paused on the steps outside as he noticed her frown.
“What is it?”
“Oh, nothing,” Phoebe said, shaking her head. “It’s silly, really. Only every time he talks of his fictitious wife, I feel a pang of conscience. That’s what I am, after all.”
Max covered the hand that rested on his arm. “Not for much longer, love.”
“No.” She sighed. “Once we have this dratted painting back, we can go home.”
“We could go home anyway,” Max suggested, too eager to marry her and begin their lives together to care overmuch for someone else’s stolen painting. Mrs Manning could well afford to lose a dozen such paintings, after all.
“Max!” Phoebe said, wide-eyed with shock. “And let him get away with it? I think not.”
Max frowned, wondering what exactly Phoebe was hoping to accomplish.
“What do you mean? Even if we find him, I can only try to take the painting back, and I doubt he’ll give it up willingly. You’re not expecting me to haul him back to England in chains, I hope?”
He experienced a tremor of alarm at the flash of annoyance in her eyes.
“Of course not. And I don’t want him locked up or anything of the sort. I do understand he’s desperate, but it’s his own fault for being such a profligate spendthrift, and he can’t just go around stealing things. More than that, he duped me, Max, and I’m still vexed to death over it.” She gave him a measuring look which made the tremor feel akin to an earthquake. “And what do you mean, I can only try to take it back? We are in this together, Max. I will help you get the painting back.”
“Oh, no.”
A wave of fear rolled over him as he considered Phoebe being in the same room as the villain who had tied her up and left her bound and helpless. His protective instincts rushed to the fore, too forcefully for him to listen to the warning voice that suggested he ought to step with care, ought to consider to whom he was speaking.
“You may help me find the devil, but that is all. Once I know where he is, I shall go and deal with him myself, and you will wait for me to return.”
***
Phoebe stared at Max, hurt and dismayed by his words. This was supposed to be a shared adventure, at least she had taken it as such. Though the dare he had taken may have spurred him on, she knew that Max had come on this journey to protect her, and she appreciated his instincts. He was a sincerely good man, but she had also believed that he’d trusted her, that he’d realised she was not a fool, even if she had allowed Alvanly to treat her as one. To discover now that he meant to force her to stay behind whilst he faced the baron and retrieved the painting alone….
Oh, no.
She considered what her life would be like, if Max insisted she must stay at home instead of doing what she thought to be right, and her heart ached. If that was what he expected of her, he was doomed to disappointment. She would be a constant source of irritation, and he would soon regret their marriage. Phoebe knew too well she had been a spoiled and indulged child and given a great deal of freedom. She knew too that she must grow up and take more responsibility for her actions. That she was headstrong and impulsive was something she accepted, and she fully intended to be better, not be so reckless, but she was not so unaware of