A Porcelain Viscountess by Hazel Linwood

Chapter 23

“Francis?” Phoebe said tentatively as she opened the door. She felt bold indeed walking into a Duke’s chamber so unaccompanied, even more so when she used his first name, but after all that had passed, formalities seemed absurd, and Josiah had assured her that Francis wanted to see her. Alone.

“Phoebe?” he said her name, urging her further into the room.

Phoebe closed the door behind her and rushed inside. Dawn light was beginning to break through the windows, marking the second day since the attack on Francis. He was sat up in bed, with his normal color much returned, though his hair was a little mussed from sleep. His blue eyes were alert as they found her across the chamber and a smile pinged into place.

“Thank the lord,” she said as she ran across the room toward him. She didn’t hesitate from reaching out to him, as he did her. He moved to the edge of the bed, still half covered by his shirt and the bedsheets, then flung his arms around her. Enveloped in his arms, she wrapped her own arms around his neck, clinging tightly onto him. “You gave me the fright of my life.”

“Me? Hardly my doing, was it?” he said with a chuckle from where his face was buried in the crook of her neck.

“You were the one that went running off in the woods at night by yourself! What did you think would happen? A pleasant midnight stroll?”

“Fair point,” he said with a chuckle and sat back a little. She perched on the bed beside him, releasing him a little, though his arms never left her waist, so that she was cradled against him.

“How are you feeling? I kept asking Lord Dodge last night how you were, but all he would say is that you were improving,” she asked with worry. She had even accosted the physician before he had left that same day, determined to know something more. The physician had assured her that Francis would make a full recovery, but it was not the same as hearing it from Francis’ own lips.

“My head is still sore, but the sickness is long past, and I am not as dizzy as I was before, though the physician tells me the dizziness might continue for a little longer yet,” Francis said, still not taking his arms away from her.

“Your Grace, you are holding onto me rather tightly,” she said with a smile, loving the feeling of those arms around her.

“I think it’s because I’m scared if I’ll let go, I’ll lose you,” he said in a whisper. “Thank god you found me, Phoebe. Heaven knows what would have happened if I had stayed out in the woods for much longer. And why are you calling me ‘Your Grace’ again?” She chuckled at the mock outrage he employed, delighted to see that he was doing so much better he could actually make a jest. “I am Francis, that is my name.”

“Very well, Francis,” she said softly. “What happened to you?” She lifted a hand and hovered it over where the bandage used to be on his head. It had now been removed to show a bruise that was beginning to heal and a cut that was sealing itself back together.

“I wish I knew,” he said softly. “Phoebe, there is something you should know though –”

There was a quick rap at the door.

“Damn,” Francis muttered. “I’m going to have to release you now.”

She giggled and stepped up from the bed, out of his arms. She crossed the room a little, putting distance between the two of them and straightening her skirt.

“Enter!” Francis called to the door. It was duly opened by Lord Dodge, who was followed in by a Constable. “Ah, Constable, thank you for coming.”

“Your Grace. My name is Constable Jenkins. I was so sorry to hear of your attack.” The Constable hurried through the room and took a chair by Francis’ bed, sitting down with a small notebook he placed on his knee. “Lord Dodge has given me an account of what has happened, but if you can handle it, I would like to hear from you what happened.”

“Of course.” As Francis went into telling the tale, Phoebe could feel eyes upon her. She turned to see Lord Dodge was still standing in the doorway, looking at her with a smirk upon his lips.

“What is it?” She mouthed the words for only him to see. He seemed to laugh under his breath and shake his head, before taking a few more steps into the room, passing close by her so he could whisper.

“You’re blushing, my Lady,” he said with a small laugh as he crossed the room closer to Francis. Phoebe smiled and hung her head, trying to hide that blush. It seemed little use in trying to hide what was between her and Francis, her own tendency to blush was betraying it!

“Are there any details you can share about this man that attacked you?” the Constable asked, drawing Phoebe’s attention back toward Francis. He paused before replying and looked toward her. “Your Grace?” the Constable prompted him on.

“If I may,” Francis said, gesturing to the notebook and pencil in the Constable’s hand. They were duly passed over and instead of replying by words, Francis scribbled something down before passing the book back to the Constable. Phoebe stepped forward, intent on seeing what he had written down, but Lord Dodge stepped in the way, blocking her sight.

This is a little odd, Phoebe thought as she walked around him again, but the Constable promptly closed the notebook so she couldn’t see at all.

“This morning, Your Grace, myself and my junior attended your gamekeeper as he did a sweep of the perimeter wall of the estate,” the Constable said, leaning forward with a grave countenance. “We found what seemed to be scuff marks in the wall, and torn clothes too. It would appear that whoever did attack you, climbed in and out of the estate by this point in the wall. It is a little shorter here than elsewhere, so it would be easier for him than tackling the locked gate.”

“Yes, I suspected as much,” Francis said, lifting a hand and scratching his chin.

“Have you gathered any evidence that suggests it was a thief?” Lord Dodge addressed his question to the Constable.

“None so far. If he did take anything, he did not drop it, and nothing can be found to be missing from the estate. It is possible he took something from the garden, of course, but that may be more difficult to tell. Can you think of any other reason why there could be an intruder on the estate?”

Phoebe was waiting for the words to come, for both Francis and Lord Dodge glanced her way, but they said nothing.

“No, I cannot think of a single reason,” Francis said, making Phoebe frown. She couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t mention the Viscount. After all, it was possible it could have been him. Graham had stormed into Lord and Lady Dodge’s house and searched it himself! Was it so odd to think he could be willing to do the same to this house?

Well, he might not know Lord and Lady Dodge have come here.

“There is something else we found during our search,” the Constable said, shaking Phoebe out of her thoughts. “The rock that was used to strike you, Your Grace. It is blood-stained and was discarded on the ground close to where you were attacked. It seems he took the closest weapon to hand he could find to attack you.”

“Not a planned attack then?” Lord Dodge said.

“No, I think not. Whoever struck you, did it because you were chasing them.” The Constable stood to his feet, showing that the conversation was coming to a close. “I would recommend urging some of your men to patrol the grounds every now and then. If your intruder had an ulterior motive beside theft, then they could come back again. At least then we’ll know what they want. I will leave you in peace to recover now.”

“Thank you,” Francis said with a smile and the Constable bowed before hurrying out of the room.

For a minute, silence descended in the room as Lord Dodge moved to the window, looking out of it to watch the Constable’s retreat, and Francis rubbed his hands across his face in stress.

Phoebe couldn’t bear the silence. She had to ask the question that was burning in her mind, making her palms sweat with fear.

“Was it the Viscount?” she asked, making both men snap their gazes toward her.

“I saw nothing to indicate it could be him.” Francis assured her with a smile. She felt the tension soften from her shoulders and she breathed a sigh of relief.

He has not found me after all.

* * *

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Josiah asked as Francis started walking toward the door.

“Completely,” Francis said, hesitating on his feet a little as the dizziness swept in. “I am one hundred percent well.”

“Tell your feet that, because they look like they’re trying to plait themselves together.”

Francis planted his feet onto the rug beneath him, attempting to stand perfectly still.

“That better?” he said, gesturing to his body.

“A little,” Josiah winced with the words.

Francis turned a little to see his reflection in the mirror. He was tired of staying in bed, and with the red clover and violet tonic solution the physician had given him, his headache was gone, and he did not see the point in laying still anymore. He’d been in bed for two days straight and was determined to join Phoebe and his family for dinner, even if he had to sit in one chair and barely move all evening.

“I will be fine,” Francis said with conviction as he adjusted his jacket and cravat one last time. “Though I might borrow your arm to walk downstairs with.”

“I’m giving it to you now before you fall flat on your face.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“Oh, if only you could see yourself from where I’m standing,” Josiah said with exasperation as he reached Francis’ side and helped him to walk out of the room. “Before we reach dinner, tell me this. Why were you so keen to hide the fact from Lady Ridlington that your attacker may have been the Viscount?”

“Firstly, we do not know that for sure. He is hardly the only man in London to wear his hair in a ponytail,” Francis said as they walked through the corridor, toward the landing above the stairs.

“Agreed, but it is a suspicion. You lied to her and said there was nothing to suspect it was him.”

“Sadly, I did.” Francis grimaced, hating the idea that he had lied to Phoebe about anything. “How many times now have we seen Phoebe say that she intends to go back to the Viscount in order to keep us all safe?”

“Too many times,” Josiah agreed with a sigh.

“Exactly.” Francis pulled Josiah to a stop above the stairs, still clinging onto his arm for the dizziness was a little stronger than he thought it might have been. “What do you think she would have done if I had told her that the Viscount could have been the man that tried to kill me?”

“Ah…” Josiah paused, his jaw slackening in realization. “She would have packed her bags and gone back to him instantly, just to keep you safe.”

“See?” Francis said as the two of them set off again, walking down the stairs much slower than he could usually do. “You know it as well as I. Quite frankly, I am not going to let that happen. I will keep her here where she is safe, far away from that monster. There is another thing as well that bothers me.”

“Which is?”

“If it were the Viscount, why has he not come for her already?” Francis asked as they reached the bottom of the stairs. “He could have done. He could have stormed the door and demanded I send her back, but he hasn’t yet.”

“Maybe he’s biding his time?” Josiah said, lowering his voice to a whisper as they walked through the entrance hall and got closer to the dining room. “Waiting for the right moment to come?”

“Perhaps. Or perhaps it was not him at all that hit me, and he was just a thief after all.”

“Maybe,” Josiah said, though he chewed the side of his mouth and looked distinctly unconvinced. “So, you’re going to keep this a secret from her?”

“Sadly, yes,” Francis whispered as they hovered on their side of the closed door to the dining room. “I cannot lose her now.”

Josiah’s lips flickered into a smile.

“At last!”

“At last, what?”

“Are you going to admit now that you and Lady Ridlington share something?”

“Josiah, please be quiet,” Francis said, turning his attention back to the closed door.

“You were tortuous when I started courting Diana. Can I expect a courtship between you and Lady Ridlington soon?”

“She’s married!”

“I mean after she obtains her divorce.”

“And how is that ever to happen?” Francis said, feeling a darkness swelling in his chest with his own words. “You heard what Mr Preston said in our last meeting. Without Louisa’s testimony, Phoebe stands little chance of having her divorce. What fool would I be to hope that it could happen?”

Josiah offered a sad sort of smile as he released Francis’ arm and clapped him on the shoulder in comfort.

“Stranger things have happened.”

“Are you trying to console me? Because there doesn’t seem much room for hope right now,” Francis said, his whisper growing more and more agitated.

“No? You called her Phoebe. Not Lady Ridlington, but Phoebe.” Josiah’s words made Francis stiffen, not having realized he had done it in front of his brother-in-law. “I know you quite well by now, Francis. I don’t think you are going to let that woman slip away from you very easily.”

Josiah reached for the door, showing the conversation was at an end and swung it open to reveal Diana and Phoebe walking around the table, about to take their places for dinner. When Francis’ eyes settled on Phoebe, he realized how right his brother-in-law was.

I do not want to let her go.

That same sense of love swelled within him again. He did love her. Dearly and hopelessly. That thought made another take hold of him.

I have to tell her I love her.