Stephanie Laurens - Bastion Club 05 by To Distraction

Author:To Distraction [Distraction, To]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-12-03T09:47:00+00:00

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

The driver went to the carriage door, leaning in to assist the giant. Leaving him to it, Deverell moved to Phoebe’s side; gripping her arm above the elbow, he quietly murmured, “Don’t bother even thinking it.” He didn’t meet the sharp look she threw him. Lifting his head, he called, “Grainger?” There was a rustle behind some barrels nearby, then Grainger stepped into view. “Yes, guv?”

“Keep an eye on the horses. We won’t be long.”

“Aye, guv.”

Rather more than a trifle shaken, Phoebe watched Fergus, now out of the carriage but leaning heavily on Birtles, pause to have a word with the lanky lad, who had clearly been keeping watch on their premises.

How had Deverell found out? How long had he known?

How much had he learned?

Most importantly, what would he do with his newfound knowledge?

His fingers tightened about her arm. Head rising, she allowed him to steer her toward the back door.

Miss Constance Spry, the Chifley’s ex-governess, a quiet, rather timid but sensible young woman with excellent references and unimpeachable background, meekly followed; regardless of what had transpired, Phoebe felt entirely justified in having embarked on their precipitous rescue, inadequately planned though it had been.

Miss Spry’s situation had been desperate. That had been apparent when, that afternoon at Chifley House, leaving Edith with Lady Chifley and the two other matrons who’d called, Phoebe had stepped out onto the terrace and seen, on a path to the side of the small garden, the petite governess struggling in the arms of Chifley, valiantly fighting to avoid being kissed. Phoebe had deliberately scuffed her shoe, causing both to look up; Miss Spry had grasped the moment, wrenched free, and run.

Chifley had looked at Phoebe, then looked after Miss Spry and laughed. Cruelly. It had been clear he would be after her, with even greater determination, at the first opportunity. Nothing was going to stop him until he’d ruined her; the fact that she was a vicar’s daughter probably only incited him more.

Letting Miss Spry escape, with a sneer on his face, Chifley had started, deliberately, toward Phoebe.

She’d turned and stepped back into the drawing room, feeling physically ill.

To her relief, within minutes of Chifley joining his doting mama and her cronies, Edith, clearly struggling not to curl her lip, had declared that they had to leave.

Across the room, Chifley had bent an openly lascivious look on Phoebe; he’d certainly seen her well enough to recognize her. In the alley, however, in the dark, his attention had been fixed on poor Miss Spry. If he had recognized Phoebe, shock would have brought him up short; she felt reasonably confident he hadn’t, that at least in that respect her secret was still safe.

Nearing the agency’s door, she glanced back. Fergus was coming on slowly. She briefly scanned his face and inwardly winced at the pain she saw there. That was the only real regret she had over the night’s events.

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