Page 4 of Letters for Phoebe

“Mr. Fenwick,” Caroline called, startling Phoebe out of her search. Surely, Caroline did not mean to call over one of those men, in public, no less. Mr. Fenwick, coat in place, trotted over to the carriage from his place on the green, wearing a wide grin. He scrubbed his hand through his hair, leaving it a brown mass of waves with blotches of white dough sticking this way and that. His eyes were on Caroline until he was but a few feet from the carriage, and then his gaze flicked to meet Phoebe’s glare.

The grin faded abruptly, and his cheeks reddened. Good. Perhaps her sophisticated disapproval put him in mind of where he was and with whom he was speaking.

“Mrs. Kimball,” he said, bowing from his place at the side of the path. “Good afternoon.”

Caroline laughed, the cheerful sound causing Phoebe to grit her teeth. Everyone in the vicinity would stare at them. “Please, Griffin, we have known each other since our infancy. Call me Caroline.”

That brought Phoebe’s attention back to her sister-in-law. “I did not know you were so familiarly acquainted with this man.” She spoke without thought, then pressed her lips tightly together. But really, she had been shocked into the exclamation.

Caroline was not at all put out. “Of course. Why would I not be? My family and the Fenwicks have been intimately connected for years. Our fathers’ estates adjoin one another.” Caroline batted her pretty, blonde lashes at Phoebe, but that placating trick only worked on Phoebe’s older brother. “Please, allow me to introduce you. Phoebe, this is Mr. Griffin Fenwick. Griffin, this is my sister-in-law, Miss Phoebe Kimball.”

Phoebe’s good manners forced her to turn to the gentleman, staring down into his twinkling blue-gray eyes as he bowed. He kept his gaze directed at her through the gesture, which made her blink. Men normally did not appraise her so openly.

“Miss Kimball, it is a pleasure to meet you at last. Your sister-in-law spoke of you a great deal last time she visited Essex.” He straightened after she gave him a brief nod, his expression still one of amusement.

“I have heard her speak of you, on occasion. My brother had the most to say after meeting you.” Phoebe refrained from mentioning that her elder brother, Caroline’s husband, mostly commented on the man’s ability to make others laugh. Not much else was said about him, in his favor or otherwise. Likely, the man was little more than a fool.

* * *

Usually, when someone stared down their nose at Griffin, he did not care. The opinions of others, even pretty young misses with pert noses, were of little importance to him. On more than one occasion he had seen the bores of Society grimace at his antics. But it was rare someone so young refused to see the humor in his escapades, and it gave him pause.

“I rather liked your brother,” he told Miss Phoebe Kimball. “A good chap, really.” It somewhat surprised him that a man who seemed as eager to laugh as Mr. Joseph Kimball would have a sister with such a stern and disapproving countenance.

The young woman’s smile appeared, though it was tight as a miser’s fist. Shame. She was likely more than pretty when she smiled. Her eyes slid away from him, back to the line of open carriages finally beginning to stir on Rotten Row.

“Caroline,” she said, her delicate eyebrows drawing together in a frown. “Look. Mr. Milbourne is coming closer.” She adjusted her posture and widened her eyes.

Griffin raised his eyebrows at Caroline. She met his gaze and shrugged, one corner of her mouth tightening as though to say to him, I haven’t any idea what she sees in him.

“Have you a wish to meet Mr. Milbourne?” Griffin asked, keeping his tone light. He and Milbourne had gone to Oxford at the same time, and they now belonged to the same club. Griffin rather pitied any woman who wound up with the man. He had no thought for the feelings of others, living only for his own pleasure. Rumor was he had become quite the gambler of late, too, to the distress of his family.

Miss Kimball cut him a look from the corner of her eye. “Do you know him, Mr. Fenwick?”

“Somewhat.” Was it his place to tell the young woman the man she wished to meet was a crass and arrogant imbecile? Likely not. He shrugged. “I can introduce you, if you wish.”

Noticing more sticky dough upon his shoulder, Griffin grimaced. He must still have quite a bit in his hair. He started combing his fingers through it again, drawing out sticky white clumps into his fingers. The young woman leaned away, though it would be quite impossible for any of the dough to land upon her as she was above and several feet away from him.

“That would make this outing worthwhile for Phoebe,” Caroline said, releasing a sigh as she began to fan herself. “Though I am content to have merely witnessed your duel. It was such fun, Griffin.”

He grinned at her. “The viscount is an excellent bowler, I should say. He certainly trounced me, which is all the more insulting since I came up with the idea.”

Miss Kimball made a noise of impatience in the back of her throat. “Mr. Milbourne is nearly here,” she whispered. “Please, Mr. Fenwick, if you would—?”

“Of course.” He opened the door to the phaeton, jumping in to sit across from the ladies. Miss Kimball drew back in surprise, her jaw dropping open, while Caroline covered a smirk with her fan. “You did not expect me to stand in the road to make such an introduction, did you?” he asked, keeping his tone innocent.

Color rose in her cheeks, and the young woman did not appear to know what to say. He winked at her, then turned to the approaching yellow phaeton. “Ah, Milbourne. Good afternoon.” The other man was wearing a very purple coat, and a silver waistcoat that looked as though it would not cover his growing middle much longer.

Milbourne, driving himself, slowed his single horse. “Is that you, Fenwick? Do not tell me you caused all the fuss on the green.”

Griffin laughed. “Very well, I will not tell you such a thing. Instead, I will introduce you to these fine ladies. Mrs. Joseph Kimball and her sister-in-law, Miss Kimball. Mrs. Kimball and I grew up as neighbors. Ladies, Mr. Milbourne and I attended Oxford at the same time.”

Milbourne’s eyebrows rose, and he leaned somewhat closer. “Miss Phoebe Kimball? I have heard all about you, of course, but I did not expect to be so fortunate as to receive an introduction.” His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, as they likely would at an especially good hand of cards.

It was rather unlikely they would run in the same circles, Griffin supposed, given that Milbourne preferred gaming tables to the marriage mart.

Miss Kimball smiled, though it was something of a subdued expression, and tipped her head to one side. “Oh, it is I who am fortunate to meet you, sir.”

Griffin lost interest in their exchange, looking back over the park. He had left his horse tied up beneath trees on the opposite side of the green, and he could see the beast still there, nibbling at the grass. He had nearly decided to excuse himself when he heard Mr. Milbourne ask to call on the young woman.