Phoebe felt dizzy, and not because of the sedate dancing. She tried frantically to deal with the implications of what she was hearing. "I do not understand any of this, Neil."
"No, my dearest, I am aware of that. But I understand only too well. Wylde has returned to England with eight years worth of plunder and has set himself up as a respectable member of the Social World."
"He was not a pirate," Phoebe insisted. "I know him too well now to believe that."
"Not as well as I do," Neil said softly. "He has taken from me the only woman I ever wanted to marry."
"I'm sorry, Neil, but you know I would never have married you. I told you that eight years ago."
"I could have convinced you to love me. Never fear. I am not angry with you. This marriage to Wylde is not your fault. You were led to believe I was dead."
"Yes." There seemed no point informing him yet again that even if she had believed him to be alive, she would not have waited for him. She had never intended to marry him and she had always tried to make that clear to him. She had wanted Neil as a friend, not as a lover or a husband.
"Like the pirate he is, Wylde has taken everything I valued. My ship, the woman I love, and the one memento I treasured above all others."
Phoebe's eyes widened as a dreadful premonition struck her. "Memento?"
"He took the book you gave me, my dearest. I saw him steal it that day he boarded my ship. He stripped my cabin bare of all my small valuables and then he found The Lady in the Tower. I was nearly killed trying to prevent him from stealing it. Its loss grieved me more than I can say. It was all I had of you."
The niggling sense of guilt that was plaguing Phoebe grew worse. "Neil, I am so confused."
"I understand, my love. You have been fed some very finely spun lies and you do not know what to believe. All I ask is that you remember what we once were to each other."
A terrifying thought struck Phoebe. "What will you do now, Neil? Are you going to try to get Wylde thrown into prison? Because if so, I must tell you—"
"No, Phoebe, I will make no effort to see that Wylde meets the fate he deserves, for the simple reason that I can prove nothing. It all happened thousands of miles away and he and I are the only ones who know the truth. It would be my word against his. And he is now an earl. Furthermore, he is as rich as the devil himself and I am nearly penniless. Who do you think the court would believe?"
"I see." Phoebe sighed with relief. That was one problem she did not have to worry about at the moment.
"Phoebe?"
"Yes, Neil?"
"I know that you are trapped in this marriage."
"I am not exactly trapped," she muttered.
"A wife is at the mercy of her husband. And I pity any woman who is at Wylde's mercy. You are very dear to me and I shall continue to love you for the rest of my days. I want you to know that."
Phoebe swallowed. "That is very kind of you, Neil, but you must not pine for me. Truly, you must get on with your life."
He smiled. "I will survive, dearest, just as I survived all those days at sea. But it would give me great solace if I could have the book you gave me when I left England."
"You want The Lady in the Tower?"
"It is all I will ever have of you, Phoebe. I assume Wylde brought it back with him along with the rest of his booty?"
"Well, yes." Phoebe scowled. "That is to say, he brought it back with him from the South Seas along with his fortune."
"The book belongs to you, my love. It is yours to give or withhold. If you have any pity or affection left at all for your devoted Lancelot, I beg you to allow me to keep The Lady in the Tower. I cannot tell you how much it means to me."
Panic gripped Phoebe. "Neil, it is very gallant of you to want to keep The Lady in the Tower, but I really do not think I am in a position to give it to you."
"I understand. You must be cautious around Wylde. He is an extremely dangerous man. It would be best if you did not tell your husband that I want my keepsake back. There is no knowing what he might do. He hates me."
Phoebe frowned. "I would prefer that you not make personal comments about my husband. I do not wish to listen to them."
"Of course you don't. A wife must contrive to believe the best of her husband. It is her duty."
"It is not that precisely." Phoebe was irritated at the mention of wifely duty. "It is only that I cannot bring myself to believe Wylde was a pirate."
"Surely you do not believe that I was one?" Neil asked gently.
"Well, no," she admitted. "It is very difficult to picture you as a bloodthirsty buccaneer."
Neil inclined his head. "Thank you for that much, at least."
Phoebe was aware of Gabriel's presence in the ballroom before she saw him. A strong sense of relief washed through her. But when she turned her head and realized he was striding straight toward her, she had a change of heart.
She had a horrible feeling there was going to be a dreadful scene.
Gabriel looked every inch the hawk tonight. His green eyes were as pitiless as any raptor's. His black evening clothes emphasized the stark lines of his face and the predatory quality of his body. His gaze never left Phoebe and Neil as he approached.
When Gabriel reached them, he took Phoebe's hand off Neil's shoulder and pulled her to his side. His voice was lethally soft as he confronted Neil.
"So you survived your swim, after all, Baxter."
"As you see." Neil gave a mocking little bow.
"Take some advice," Gabriel said. "If you would go on surviving, stay away from my wife."
"It seems to me that what happens is up to Phoebe," Neil said. "Her position is very similar to that of the legendary Guinevere's, is it not? I believe I find myself playing Lancelot to your Arthur, Wylde. And we all know what happened in that tale. The lady betrayed her lord and gave herself to her lover."
Phoebe was outraged at the implication that she would betray Gabriel. "Stop this nonsense at once, both of you. I will not have it."
Neither Gabriel nor Neil paid her any heed.
"Unlike Arthur, I am prepared to protect my lady," Gabriel said quietly. "Arthur made the mistake of trusting Lancelot. I won't make that mistake because I have the advantage of already knowing you are a liar, a murderer, and a thief."
Neil's eyes flickered with fury. "Phoebe will realize the truth soon enough. Her heart is pure. Even you could not corrupt her, Wylde."
He turned on his heel and walked away.
Phoebe realized she was holding her breath. When Gabriel made to drag her off the dance floor, she felt her left leg buckle. He caught her instantly.
"Are you all right?" he demanded.
"Yes, but I would appreciate it if you would cease hauling me across the room like this, Wylde. People are starting to stare."
"Let them stare."
Phoebe sighed. He was going to be impossible. "Where are we going?"
"Home."
"Just as well," Phoebe said. "The evening has certainly been ruined."
Chapter 16
How in bloody hell had Baxter survived? Gabriel wondered. By rights the man should have been dead.
Gabriel watched Phoebe closely as the carriage rumbled through the crowded streets. He did not have a clue as to what she was thinking. The realization that he did not know how she was reacting to the fact that Baxter was alive alarmed him as nothing else could have done.
It seemed to Gabriel that he had been doing battle with Baxter's ghost since the first time he had met Phoebe. Baxter had always been there, hovering in the background. It had been bad enough dealing with Phoebe's memories of him. Now Gabriel found himself dealing with the man in the flesh. Why couldn't the bastard have stayed dead?
Gabriel's fingers tightened on the carved grip of his walking stick. He was impatient to get Phoebe home, but they were not making swift progress. Elegant lacquered coaches and fancy gigs of all sorts clogged the path. It was nearly midnight and the ton was in full motion, moving from one soiree to another in a frenzy that would not end until dawn.