When the Earl Met His Match (Wedded by Scandal #4) - Stacy Reid Page 0,1
fixed.”
Inquisitiveness shone from Miss Caroline’s eyes. “You’ve stretched them quite far, milady. I see no carriages on the horizon.”
Phoebe glanced over her shoulder toward the east. “It seems I have outdistanced my party.” The wild beauty of the Scottish Highlands had encouraged her to stroll for over an hour. Phoebe ruefully admitted she had been desperate to escape the diatribe her mama had been heaping upon her head. It seemed her engagement to a certain earl was imminent, and Phoebe’s protest at the alliance wasn’t to be tolerated.
The low growl of the dog had her shifting to keep him in her line of sight. How curious that its stare had not left her. He reminded her of Lord Benjamin’s—Francis’s cat, who had disappeared the day they had laid her brother to rest in the family’s crypt. If what the girl said was true, this dog suffered because his master suffered. Her heart ached something fierce as she stared at the dog. “What is his name?”
“Dog,” the girl said.
Phoebe frowned. “How cruel its master would only call him ‘Dog!’” She glanced around at the girl. “Does he not care for this animal?”
There was a slight hesitation where raw emotions flashed in her eyes before her expression smoothed. “Perhaps the dog has a name.” She shrugged with studied indifference. “I never cared to know it.”
Another unexpected ache clutched at Phoebe’s heart. “Why…why is his master dying?”
The indifferent facade crumbled, and pain, raw and powerful, cracked Caroline’s countenance. “Because he is stupid!” She dug into the pocket of her coat and withdrew a folded piece of paper. The girl hurried over to her and pressed it into Phoebe’s hand. “I’ve been searching for a fool to give this to!”
A fool? How astonishingly rude!
Then to Phoebe’s alarm, the girl marched away up the rocky incline toward the towering mansion in the far distance. Glancing at the folded paper and then back at the retreating figure, Phoebe was torn between annoyance and unwilling amusement. She returned her attention to the animal still crouched in the bushes. “Do you know that very rude creature?”
The dog growled in response, and Phoebe sighed. “Come, boy…Dog,” she called firmly.
“Perhaps we should leave it alone as the lady advises, milady,” Sarah said a bit fretfully. “She is familiar with its contrariness, and it is also evident she does not care for the beast.”
“I suspect if we leave, this dog will stay here and starve itself.”
Sarah sighed. “The duchess will not be pleased if she comes upon you. I fear I will be harshly scolded with you.”
“Then I suppose we shall be scolded together, but do not fret much, Sarah. I shall take the brunt of Mama’s displeasure.” Phoebe then spent several more minutes demanding the dog to eat her offering, and when the brisk commands yielded no success, she lowered her tone and tried cajoling. The dog did not move, and she glanced down at the letter in her hand, not understanding why she even clutched at the paper.
“Are you to open it, milady?”
Phoebe sighed. “And prove to that rude creature I am a fool?”
Her lady maid gasped her affront, and Phoebe smiled.
“She did say she was waiting for a fool to hand this note, so I gather its contents to be objectionable to her intelligence and maybe a trap for me.” Phoebe glared at the note, her curiosity eating at her. “I cannot credit that she walked around with this letter to fob it off on the first stranger she saw. That means the contents are truly not that important to her…or perhaps anyone else. Or since she was watching us, she decided I was somehow the right person to hand it to.”
“So will you discard it or read it, milady?” Sarah asked, glancing at the rapidly darkening sky and back toward where they had left the carriages.
Her damnable curiosity won, and she opened it.
Dear You,
Phoebe blinked at the highly unusual greeting.
Thank you for the courage to reach for this letter. I requested that it be entrusted to someone kind, patient, and warmhearted. Before you is my very best friend, perhaps my only friend, and most certainly the most loyal of companions. As my sister berated me these past few days, due to my unchecked idiocy, I’ve fallen ill, and from the dark and excessively dramatic muttering about in the hallway, I’m not likely to recover. I do not fear the inevitable nature of death, yet I do care very much who will look after my friend when I