Impoverished Miss, Convenient Wife. Michelle Styles

you to drive a carriage, regardless of what your dear papa says.’

      She ignored the outraged growl behind her.

      Robert collapsed back against his pillows and all the tension eased out of him. ‘I want to get strong again. All my puff seems to have gone. The littlest thing appears to bother me.’

      ‘My cousin strikes me as a man who keeps his word.’

      ‘Uncle Brett does.’

      ‘And I will work with you to get you strong again.’ Phoebe gritted her teeth. Mr Clare would have to eat his words. She believed that she had proved him wrong. She would do all in her power to get Robert strong enough to drive carriages, with or without Mr Clare’s consent.

      ‘I will.’ Robert’s lashes fluttered closed. ‘I like you, Miss Benedict, you and your kitten.’

      She watched him for another moment as his lips turned up into the sweetest smile and sleep claimed him. She pulled the blanket up to his chin and tiptoed out. A small glow of triumph filled her. She had succeeded. She could do this. This really would be a new beginning. All her debts would be paid and her stepbrothers would get the start in life that her father would have wanted them to have.

      ‘Very neatly done,’ Mr Clare said softly from where he stood watching her. ‘You seem to have a knack, Miss Benedict. It took Gladys and two strong footmen three hours to calm him last night. And the maid before her only lasted until Robert tossed a bowl of porridge at her. My words to you were hasty and ill thought out.’

      Phoebe tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. She longed to say that she had told him so, but she would be magnanimous in her victory. He would never know how deeply his remarks had wounded her. ‘One learns a lot about boys and their ways when one has three stepbrothers. The so-called nurse did far more harm than good.’

      ‘She will be gone by morning light. I shudder to think what she nearly did…what she nearly had me believe. Her references were excellent.’

      ‘No doubt sent by people who were pleased to be rid of her!’ Phoebe wiped her hands on her gown. ‘I will need to freshen up and then there is the question of the boy’s care. We should discuss this downstairs, away from Robert.’

      Mr Clare caught her elbow, stopping her progress. ‘It would appear my sister was correct to send you. You will work admirably if you wish to stay.’

      ‘There is no need to apologise.’ Phoebe attempted to ignore the sudden flood of warmth on her cheeks. ‘It must have come as a huge shock.’

      ‘I never apologise, Miss Benedict, for stating the truth. In this instance I was mistaken. I judged you too harshly.’

      ‘The important thing is that Robert is now sleeping.’ Phoebe clung on to the remnants of her temper.

      ‘Shall we quarrel about that as well?’ A smile touched Mr Clare’s face, transforming it. ‘I fear my sister will have misled you. My temper has become far shorter since the accident. I do assure you, Miss Benedict, that my bark is worse than my bite. Above all else, I want Robert to get well.’

      ‘Hopefully, there is a room near Robert’s where I can store my things.’ All the exhaustion from her long journey returned, crashing over her in one great wave. All she wanted was a warm bath and the welcoming embrace of clean sheets, but these would have to wait until Robert was better. She knew her duty. Phoebe stifled a yawn. Even the armchair in Robert’s room would be welcome after the hard springs of the coach.

      ‘I refuse to allow you to start tonight. You have just arrived. Someone will watch over him.’

      Someone? Gladys, the upstairs maid? Did she dare risk another confrontation? Phoebe forced her body to relax. She had to be content with her small victory. He might decry arrogant aristocrats, but Mr Clare was without a doubt one of the most pigheaded people that she had ever met.

      She willed a smile to cross her lips. Her time in the ton had taught her how to be polite to the rudest people. ‘Robert’s health is more important, Mr Clare. I want to hear if he cries out in his sleep.’

      ‘Very well, if you wish.’ He made a dismissive gesture with his hand. ‘Jenkins, put Miss Benedict’s things into the little room next to Robert’s rather than in Miss Diana’s old room. She appears determined to look after him. You will be able to hear Robert if he cries out.’

      ‘Your sister entrusted me with his care. I gave her my promise.’

      ‘How much did my sister tell you about this house?’

      ‘Very little. There was not time. Speed was of the essence according your letter.’ Phoebe kept her voice steady. ‘I expect I will learn the house rules as I go on.’

      ‘There is one request I must make of you, Miss Benedict.’ His face became stern. ‘Onnoaccountspeak to Robert about his mother.’

      ‘Why ever not?’ Phoebe’s eyes widened and she wished that she had questioned Lady Coltonby more closely about the precise nature of the situation. What had this boy’s mother done before she died?

      ‘I have no wish to encourage morbid fantasies. His mother is dead and that is the end of the matter.’

      ‘But—’ Phoebe stared at the man. Surely he had seen the hunger in Robert’s eyes when he mentioned that his mother had died. She knew what it was like to be alone and motherless. She knew what it was like to be without a family. Did Mr Clare?

      ‘That is the one charge I make on you.’ Mr Clare inclined his head. ‘I have agreed reluctantly to my sister’s scheme, but I will have the rules obeyed in my house.’

      ‘I will take it under advisement.’

      ‘You will obey my orders.’

      ‘If I had obeyed your orders, Robert would now be tied to his bed. Or, worse, in a madhouse. Robert is seriously ill and has been treated badly.’

      Mr Clare opened and closed his mouth and his scar became a livid red. A small thrill of satisfaction ran through Phoebe. She enjoyed seeing the barb hit home. It might make her wicked, but she felt Mr Clare deserved it.

      ‘You speak very boldly.’

      ‘I fight for those who need it. And I will fight for Robert.’

      ‘Then I must be grateful that you intend to do that.’ Mr Clare gave an imperious nod and turned away down the hall.

      A soft noise woke Phoebe from where she slumbered on a narrow cot. It took a few moments to work out where she was. She forced her muscles to relax as she realised that it was not Atherstone Court and she would not have to see her sister-in-law today.

      She listened again, hoping against hope that Robert was not about to experience another fit. The noise appeared to have stopped. She nodded and forced her breathing to come easy.

      She was safe here. No men would come knocking at the door, demanding money for unpaid bills, no stepmother would look at her with injured eyes when she suggested economies. No sister-in-law to roll her eyes when Phoebe suggested starting a dressmaking or millinery shop, rather than sinking slowly into the mire of impoverished gentry.

      Here, she was giving James a chance. He had not asked for Father to go walking on the frozen Thames. He had not been the one to refuse to join him on that stroll, preferring to stay at home and trim a bonnet. She knew who bore that guilt. And he had not caused Charles to take the corner too fast, overturning his carriage on his way to mediate a dispute between her and Alice. She trusted that Lord Coltonby would do as he had promised. Then there would only be Edmund to worry about. She hoped all of them understood the sacrifices she was making and why. Far too often they seemed to take her feelings for granted. Phoebe pushed away the thought. They were the only family she had and belonging to a family was important. She would keep her mind only on the good things, the way forward.

      She’d concentrate on the little boy and his heartless parent. Imagine having your only child looked after by a creature like