The Captain's Letters by Caylen McQueen

Author:Caylen McQueen [McQueen, Caylen]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2016-01-15T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

“Phoebe...”

When her aunt entered her bedchamber, Phoebe rolled onto her back and tried to look alive. She had been nestled beneath her blankets all day, quietly lamenting her disastrous encounter with Augustus Wolfe.

“Phoebe, are you still in bed?” Marie sounded shocked. “But it is nearly noon! I have never known you to be such a slugabed!”

“My apologies.” With a tiny groan, Phoebe dragged herself into a sitting position. “There is no excuse for my malaise, although I must confess I was unaware of the time.”

“Mr. Wolfe arrived just minutes ago. He's asking to see you.”

“Mr. Wolfe?” Phoebe's nose puckered at the thought. “I don't care to see him. Tell him I am unwell.”

“Are you unwell, or is it an excuse?”

“An excuse,” Phoebe admitted. “But please... do not make me see him. I would really rather not.”

“Very well. I will tell him you're not well.”

“Thank you, Aunt.” Phoebe turned toward the window, where copious amounts of sunlight bled into the room. It reminded her of how late she had slept, and she felt a bit ashamed. “I have no interest in his company.”

“I'm glad to hear it. In truth, I was beginning to think you had formed a bit of an attachment to him, which made me worry. As you know, his status as a gentleman has been called into question by various rumors. I would prefer that you did not interact with such a man.”

“Then I never shall. Never again.” Though she said the words with confidence, she felt a pang of sadness within her heart. Try as she might, Phoebe could not bring herself to hate the rogue. His behavior was reprehensible, but it was not as if he had no redeeming qualities. When her aunt left, and she felt a dull ache in her chest, Phoebe had to face an uncomfortable truth:

She desperately wanted to see Augustus Wolfe.

Regardless of her feelings, she was determined to keep him at a distance. He was not, without a doubt, the right sort of man for her.

Thirty minutes later, Phoebe rose from bed to swap her nightrail for muslin, then she collapsed into her blankets again. Her entire body ached with senseless remorse. She wished the previous evening with Augustus would have gone differently. What if she let him kiss her? What if she had not refused him?

“Then I would probably be ruined,” she said aloud, then she closed her eyes and tried to push him from her thoughts.

An hour later, Phoebe's aunt returned. When she realized her niece was still lying listlessly in her bed, she gasped. “You have not risen still?”

“I was... contemplating. And until moments ago, I was reading a book,” Phoebe lied. She did not want her aunt to think she was wasting her day on nothing—which was precisely what she was doing. She was determined to fill the entire day with nothingness.

“Are you ill?” Marie asked.

“No.” Phoebe answered with a sigh. Unless heartsickness was considered illness, she was perfectly healthy.

“Mr. Rhodes and Julian Sedgeford have arrived. Should I send them away as well?”

“Edward and his uncle?” Phoebe whispered the names aloud.

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