Forever Phoebe by Chalon Linton

Chapter 7

Phoebe crossed her arms and speared Peter with a look. “You lost again?”

“I told you I only lost because I thought Everly had given up.” Peter threw his hand to the side. “He was so far behind I thought there was no way he could catch me.”

“And this is your punishment?” Phoebe asked. “To ask a favor of me?”

Peter shrugged. “Winner got to choose the stakes.”

Phoebe turned her scrutiny on Mr. Everly. He wore a brown jacket today. The darkness highlighted just how blond his hair was. It was tied back again, and he wore breeches and tall boots. “Is your request so difficult you could not make it yourself?”

Mr. Everly sputtered something about being a new acquaintance and not wanting to make assumptions. Phoebe raised her eyebrows, not bothering to hide her skepticism. Truthfully, she enjoyed making him squirm.

With an exaggerated sigh, she gracefully lowered herself into the cream damask high-back chair near the center of the room. “I will make a deal with both of you,” she said. “Convince Geoffrey to allow me to join you on your next race.” Both men opened their mouths to object, but Phoebe held up her hand to stop them. “Not to participate—simply to observe. There’s no reason for me to be left behind. I could even call off the start.”

“Phoebe,” Peter pleaded. “Geoffrey is only following Father’s rule.”

“Father did not prohibit me from riding. I can hold my own in the saddle. He only said I could not race. And while I disagree, I will honor his request. If Father were here, he would allow me to watch; I’m sure of it.” She clasped her hands on her royal-blue gown and straightened her shoulders. “Convince Geoffrey, and I will make a list of possible maids. Hannah and I could even interview them ourselves, if you would like.” Mr. Everly looked hopeful, so Phoebe repeated her conditions. “But only if Geoffrey agrees to allow me to ride.”

Peter shook his head, but before he could protest, Mr. Everly spoke. “Very well,” he said from his place near the window.

“Truly?” Phoebe asked. She assumed Peter would try to sway her in place of asking Geoffrey. But Mr. Everly appeared earnest.

He walked from the window and stood near the mantel. “Would your brother be able to receive me now?”

Phoebe jumped up from her seat. “I shall see.” She made the request to the butler, and Windly returned to inform her Mr. Jamison would receive them in the study.

Phoebe stood and ushered Peter and Mr. Everly down the corridor, and as they neared the door of the study, Mr. Everly cleared his throat. Phoebe turned to look at him. “Do you mean to join us?” he asked.

“I certainly do,” Phoebe replied.

Peter took a step backward, clearly removing himself from the conversation.

Mr. Everly spoke again. “I will convince your brother, Miss Jamison, but I must request that you allow me to speak with him alone.”

Phoebe’s displeasure appeared with her frown. “You wish to discuss my plight without me being present?” She stared at Mr. Everly and wondered how her opinion of the man could shift in the blink of an eye. Why exclude her from a conversation, particularly one she had instigated? “What of Peter?” she asked, pointing to her brother, who grinned from his place near the wall.

“Yes,” Peter said. “What would you have me do?”

Mr. Everly frowned at Peter’s joviality. “You’re not helping.” He then turned to Phoebe and took a deep breath. “Believe it or not, I am rather good at persuading people. Geoffrey is more likely to dig in his heels if you are standing beside me. He will look at you and see your innocence.” Peter covered his laugh, and Mr. Everly glared at him. “Your brother’s instinct to protect you will make it difficult to convince him of your plight.” Mr. Everly raised a hand, and for a moment, Phoebe thought he might touch her arm. But he blew out another breath, and his hand fell back to his side. “I simply ask you to trust me. Allow me to speak to your brother alone.”

“Trust you? I hardly know you, Mr. Everly.” Phoebe crossed her arms in a huff.

Mr. Everly looked at Peter, and it seemed some message passed between them. “Come, Phoebe,” Peter said. “Come walk outside while Everly pleads your cause.” He reached forward and untwisted Phoebe’s crossed arms.

Her frown remained, but she allowed Peter to lead her down the corridor. She turned back and watched Mr. Everly pull the ends of his coat straight before he tapped on the study door and entered.

“Good at persuading people?” Phoebe mumbled. “Isn’t he rather full of himself?”

Peter laughed, opened the door leading to the gardens, and held it as Phoebe passed by him. “He did convince you to allow him a private conference with Geoffrey.”

“He did not!” Phoebe shoved her brother in the shoulder. “You practically dragged me away.”

Phoebe raised her hand to shove Peter again, but he caught her wrist and pulled her arm through his. She tugged a bit, but Peter held firm, making them look every bit like a contented pair strolling around the garden hedge. “You’ve had your chance to convince Geoffrey,” Peter said while Phoebe huffed beside him. “Allow Everly his turn. He presents a rather reasonable argument and seems a good sort, so perhaps he has a shot.”

Phoebe grumbled and squinted at the bright sun, as Peter had led her outside without a bonnet. But she knew if she returned to the house, she would press her ear against the study door or demand entrance to the tête-à-tête.

Peter led her mindlessly around the garden, talking of some prank he planned to pull on Abraham. Phoebe listened with only half an ear as her thoughts drifted elsewhere. What was Mr. Everly saying? How did he plan to frame his argument? Why could she not be present in the conversation? And, most importantly, would he triumph?

It seemed they’d wandered for nearly two hours before Geoffrey and Mr. Everly joined them on their walk. In reality, only twenty-seven minutes had passed. Despite the myriad questions floating through Phoebe’s mind, none of them surfaced as audible words.

“A rather pleasant day today,” Geoffrey said by way of greeting. He looked directly at Phoebe, offering a courteous smile and giving no further indication of the result of his meeting with Mr. Everly.

“I’m not sure if it is at all pleasant,” Phoebe said. The temperature had steadily risen with the midday sun, and her temper grew on the same upward trajectory.

Humor tugged at Peter’s lips. “The weather, at least, is agreeable.”

Phoebe snapped her head to look at the youngest of her brothers. “Much more agreeable than my walking companion,” she said. He only laughed.

“Then, may I suggest Mr. Everly as a replacement?” Geoffrey said. “I believe he has some business to discuss with you.”

Phoebe’s feet came to a stop. She looked between Mr. Everly and Geoffrey, hopeful the business Geoffrey mentioned meant Mr. Everly had been successful. Mr. Everly’s blond hair shone bright in the sunlight, though his face revealed nothing. Geoffrey motioned for the man to step forward and escort Phoebe.

Curious, she threaded her arm through Mr. Everly’s, and they began to walk. Peter asked Geoffrey how the meeting had fared, but Phoebe could not hear the reply, for they’d strayed too far away.

She tugged on Mr. Everly’s arm and stopped their movement. “Well?” she asked, lifting her green eyes to his. “Did you do it?”

Mr. Everly looked down at her. A strand of his hair fell free from its tie and brushed his chin. He did not answer immediately; he only looked at her. He noticed her. Caressed every part of her face with his searching gaze. Phoebe thought to protest, to press for an answer, for she’d assumed it was what she wanted most. But Mr. Everly’s quiet perusal assuaged the urgency of her request. Her lips pressed together, and she evaluated the man before her as thoroughly as he evaluated her. His gray eyes revealed he knew something she did not—something beyond horse races and hiring housemaids. Phoebe felt both infinitesimal and prodigious under his gaze.

Peter and Geoffrey finally came upon them, and Peter’s voice made Phoebe jump. “Seems Everly has some charm after all.”

Phoebe’s heart raced, and she dropped her arm, stepping back.

“I gave my word,” Mr. Everly said, not taking his eyes off Phoebe.

She blinked and shook her head, trying to unravel what he said. “Am I allowed to ride, then?” she asked.

A brilliant smile filled Mr. Everly’s face, and Phoebe knew the answer without the affirmation leaving his lips.

Joy filled her lungs, pressing out her earlier vexation. “I must go to Hannah’s at once. I owe Mr. Everly a list, and I imagine we shall have to call upon a few families to see if they are looking for work.”

“You want to go now?” Peter asked.

“You know one of us must escort you,” Geoffrey said.

Peter laid an arm across Phoebe’s shoulders. “We won’t stand for our little sister to fall victim to a kidnapper.”

“Yes, yes.” Phoebe waved off her brothers’ concern. “Do you think I would allow myself to be whisked away? I shall send a note and see if Hannah can receive me. If she is available, I will take a footman. A promise is a promise, and I, too, keep my word.” She grinned. “I’m so pleased. Thank you, Geoffrey.” She stepped near, and he leaned down so she could kiss his cheek. “You too, Peter.” Peter also received a kiss from Phoebe. Then, without thought, Phoebe swept over to Mr. Everly and grabbed his arm. She pulled him down, pushed up on her toes, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, Mr. Everly,” she said. Then she was off, skipping toward the house while her brothers and their new neighbor looked after her in shocked silence.