Under An English Moon (6 page)

Reggie emerged within fifteen minutes, fully dressed, his shining black hair combed and neatly parted on the side. He had apparently nicked himself shaving as he held a finger to the edge of his jaw.

“Let me see,” Phoebe said. Reggie lifted his finger and she peered at the small cut. “It’s not bleeding anymore. You’re fine. You look refreshed,” she said as she surveyed him. “She’ll be here any minute. Just follow my lead, okay? I know this must be nerve-wracking for you, but everything will be okay.”

“Not so ‘nerve-wracking’ for me as for you, I think, if I understand your meaning,” Reggie said with a smile. “I feel quite calm, in fact.”

“That’s because you don’t know Annie. She’ll ask questions. Lots of them,” Phoebe retorted. She heard the keys in the door. “She’s here. Early.”

She hurried toward the door and opened it for Annie who dropped her keys into her purple paisley carryon bag. Two matching suitcases rested by her feet.

“Mouse!” she exclaimed as she leaned in for a hug. “It’s so good to see a familiar face.” She grabbed one suitcase and stepped past Phoebe to move into the apartment as if in search of something. “Where is he?” she said. “Oh, can you grab that?”

Phoebe took hold of the other oversized suitcase and wheeled it into the apartment. By the time she cleared the short hallway, Annie had found Reggie.

“Annie, this is Reggie Hamilton. Reggie, my cousin, Annie Warner.”

Annie thrust out a long, slender hand. “Hi there, Reggie.” She kept her eyes on him. “You didn’t tell me he was so handsome, Phoebe. Good for you, girl!”

Reggie bent slightly at the waist and inclined his head, his cheeks reddening.

“I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Warner.”

“Oh, and old-fashioned, too! You didn’t tell me he was English either, Mouse. Where are you from in England, Reggie?”

“Bedfordshire, Madam.”

Phoebe made a beeline for Reggie and tucked her hand in his arm in what she hoped looked like an intimate gesture. Reggie covered her hand with his own, perhaps thinking to reassure her. At the touch of his hand, a shiver ran up her spine, and Reggie dropped his eyes to her face as if sensing her tremor. Phoebe lost herself in his beautiful blue eyes for a moment.

“Hellooo,” Annie waved a hand as if to distract them. “You are not alone,” she intoned with a smile.

Phoebe dragged her eyes from Reggie’s and returned her attention to Annie.

“Oh, sorry!” Phoebe muttered, her cheeks burning. “Yup, Reggie is from England.”

Annie set her carryon bag down and turned for the kitchen. “So, what’s with the getup? I was just in London three months ago, and I don’t think anyone is wearing clothes like that. It’s not Halloween, is it?” She popped a small canister into the coffee pot. “Coffee anyone?”

“Reggie is...a cover model,” Phoebe surprised herself by saying. “He was just showing me the outfit for his latest cover.” She dared not look up at Reggie again but kept her face on Annie’s back as she poured coffee into a mug.

“Really?” Annie asked. She returned from the kitchen with her coffee. “Well, let’s all sit down or something. You two are standing there like a couple of guilty teenagers.”

Phoebe slid her hand down to Reggie’s and led him toward the sofa while Annie slipped off her shoes and curled up in one of the easy chairs. Phoebe noted Reggie’s eyes slide toward Annie’s blue-jeaned legs.

“So, a cover model, huh? For your publishing house?” Annie asked.

“Yes,” Phoebe agreed.

“Well, he’s definitely handsome enough.” Annie grinned.

Phoebe peeked at Reggie from under her lashes.

“Well, so anyway, that’s why he’s dressed this way. I’m sorry to hear about Johan.”

Annie shrugged though Phoebe knew her well enough to suspect she masked her pain. Annie was always looking for “the one,” but she seemed determined to pick men with whom she had nothing in common. Annie didn’t even ski.

“Thanks. I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

Phoebe glanced at Reggie then back at Annie. “We could talk about it later if you want.”

“I’m talked out,” Annie said. “No, I’d rather hear about your fella. How long have you been in the States, Reggie?”

Reggie opened his mouth to speak, but Phoebe jumped in.

“Not long, really. A couple of months?” She looked to Reggie as if confirming.

Reggie nodded and smiled politely.

“Do you always speak for him, Phoebe?”

“Oh!” Phoebe exclaimed. She turned to Reggie helplessly.

“No, not always, Miss...Annie,” Reggie said. “Only when I am taken aback. I did not realize you would return to your home, and I was anxious to find my own lodgings lest you find my presence unsettling, but Phoebe has urged me to stay here. I fear you must uncomfortable with my presence here.”

“Oh, no, I’m fine. I probably won’t be staying long anyway. I’ve got a condo in Hawaii, and I think I might head off to that for a bit. You know, get some sun, melt the ice of Switzerland.”

“And where is…?” Reggie began, but Phoebe intercepted the question.

“I love the Pacific islands. You are so lucky!” Phoebe took Reggie’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Ah, yes! The Pacific. Beautiful,” he agreed.

“I know. I can’t wait to get there. I’ll look Kathy up when I get there. I think she’s still living on Oahu.”

Phoebe turned to Reggie. “Kathy is a college friend of Annie’s.”

“Indeed.” Reggie nodded.

“Yes, indeed,” Annie said. “So, what brought you over to the United States, Reggie? Just the modeling?”

Reggie looked toward Phoebe who bit her lip, hoping for the best. Annie was already wise to the fact that Phoebe had done most of the talking.

“Yes, modeling.”

“How did you get into it? I’ve never met a male model.”

Phoebe almost jumped when Reggie squeezed her hand, and she turned to look at him. One eyebrow was quirked in her direction, and she had a feeling he had just figured out what his occupation was.

“I began as a child, posing for a painter in my village.”

“A woman who painted children playing,” Phoebe edited. She was afraid Reggie’s words would raise odd questions about the painter in this day and age.

“Yes, a woman.”

“Oh, interesting! And then you just kept on with it as a photographic model?”

“Indeed,” Reggie murmured. Phoebe pressed his hand gently.

“The painter? Is she famous? Would I have heard of her?” Annie asked.

“I do not think so,” Reggie said.

Annie nodded. “And then you came here and met Phoebe.”

“Yes, a fortunate event.”

Phoebe’s heart rolled over. Did he mean “fortunate” as in happy to meet her or lucky she was there to help him? She thought she’d take what she could get. The feel of his fingers laced through hers was both intoxicating and natural, as if she’d known him all her life. She never wanted to remove her hand from his. Never.

Annie finished her coffee. “Well, I’m exhausted. So, if I’m sleeping out here on the couch...” She fixed them with an expectant gaze.

Phoebe jumped up, pulling Reggie with her. “Oh! Sure. You must be exhausted. We’ll go to bed. Are you absolutely sure you don’t want us to sleep out here?”

Phoebe felt Reggie’s hand jerk. She hadn’t quite warned him about the sleeping-together-in-the-bedroom scenario. She kept her eyes on Annie.

“No, no, two of you, one of me. I’m not kicking you of out of your bed just because I can’t get my love life straight. You go on.” She shooed them away. “Just bring me a sheet, blanket, and a pillow, will you?”

Phoebe nodded and pulled a very stiff and resistant Reggie toward the bedroom. She shut the door behind them.

“Miss Warner! Phoebe! I feel as if I have entered a brothel! I cannot spend the night with you in your bedchamber! This is outrageous!” His ramrod straight posture mirrored the emotion of his words.

Phoebe stopped and stared at him. “A brothel? Reggie, I can’t believe you said that!” She turned a shoulder on him and headed for the walk-in closet. “I should have explained what would happen when Annie got here earlier, but there wasn’t much time...or maybe I was afraid you’d have this kind of reaction. Don’t worry, Reggie. I’m not going to ‘violate’ you!” She pulled some extra bedding from the top shelf in the closet and eyed what was left. Someone wasn’t sleeping on the bed, and she suspected it would probably be Reggie. He would need some bedding of his own.

“Violate me? Miss Warner, are you deliberately trying to provoke me? What nonsense! I really must insist on finding other accommodations.”

Phoebe understood Reggie’s concerns—if indeed he did come from the late Georgian era. She had been prepared for some resistance from him, but every now and then he showed an innate arrogance that grated on her, and he was in the throes of an arrogant fit at the moment. She suspected that ordering him to stay might not work.

“Okay, Reggie, just please wait until I take these out to Annie. Then we’ll talk about what you want to do.”

She opened the door and passed through with her load, and the awful feeling that Reggie, had he been a modern guy, would have rejected sleeping in her bedroom just as vociferously as he did now. Was she that undesirable? Her face flamed as if she had just propositioned him and he had turned her down.

She dropped the bedding on the couch. Annie emerged from the half bath in the hall, her toothbrush in hand.

“Oh, thanks. I’m going to need a shower in the morning, but I’m too tired to worry about it tonight.”

“I hate to see you sleeping on the couch in your own place. I’m really very sorry about the inconvenience. Reggie...um...gave up his own apartment when he moved into here, otherwise, we’d stay at his place and let you have this one.”

Annie waved a careless hand. “No problem. I’m the one who dropped in. This is your home too, Mouse.”

“Okay, well, good night,” Phoebe said. She hugged Annie.

“Phoebe?”

“Yes?”

“A male model?” Annie asked. “I can’t see you with a male model. I would never have thought that would be your sort of guy. I thought you liked computer geeks and nerds. At least, that’s what you’ve dated in the past.”

Phoebe shrugged. “Well, just because he does some modeling doesn’t mean he isn’t intelligent.”

“Oh, I’m not saying that. He sounds very smart, but...” She paused. “Does he do anything else for a living? He can’t just make a living as a cover model, can he?” Annie’s eyes narrowed. “He isn’t an exotic dancer or something, is he?”

Phoebe laughed. “No! And he’s not an actor wannabe either. No, just a model. I think he makes a pretty decent living at it.”

“I know it’s none of my business, hon, but does he contribute financially? I’m just kind of worried. You never mentioned him, but you say you’ve been together for...” She narrowed her eyes, and shook her head. “I don’t think you said. Anyway, you’d said he’d only been here a couple of months and now he’s given up his apartment? Cover models really can’t make that much, can they?”

Phoebe gritted her teeth and held back retorts regarding Annie’s flawed personal life. She had little enough room to be concerned about Phoebe’s life.

“Well, cousin, Reggie does fine. He contributes. Actually, he comes from a wealthy family in England, some sort of aristocracy. I’m not too worried about it. So, not to worry.” Phoebe turned for the bedroom. “Sleep well.”

“I will,” Annie yawned. “What are y’all’s plans tomorrow?”

Phoebe paused at the bedroom door. “Oh, shopping,” she said on a forced careless note.

“Can I join you?” Annie asked. “I need to do some shopping, too.”

“Ummm...sure! I think we’re mostly shopping for him though. He wants to buy some new clothes.” How was she going to explain his clothing to Annie in the morning? She’d have to think of something. Phoebe didn’t want to imagine how a shopping expedition for Reggie was going to go with Annie along.

“Night!” Phoebe said and entered the bedroom.

Chapter Four

Reggie, in Phoebe’s absence, paced the room, stopping occasionally to peer at the various pieces of furniture, photographs and a square black box with a glass face. He fingered the bedclothes and the curtains, noting a feminine flower pattern on both. The carpet, tan in color, covered the floor in its entirety, and he searched for the edge to lift in order to peer under it, but he could find no edge. The carpet appeared to be attached to the walls.

To say he was discomfited failed to adequately describe his state of mind. He fully understood that he had arrived not only in America—as he had desired, but almost two hundred years into the future. Had customs changed so much that it was now permissible for an unmarried man to sleep in the bedchamber of an unmarried young lady? Of course, were the need to share a room with her to become a necessity, there was absolutely no question that he would behave toward Phoebe in any manner other than as a gentleman. Nevertheless, he was adamant that he find other sleeping arrangements.

Phoebe returned, and he stopped his pacing and turned to face her, his hands clasped behind his back.

She gave him an uncertain look and took a chair next to a bureau.

“Could you sit down for a minute, Reggie? We need to talk,” she said softly as she nodded toward an upholstered tufted bench at the end of the bed.

“If it pleases you, Phoebe, but I warn you, I will not be dissuaded. I will not sleep in your bedchamber.” He took a seat reluctantly and waited.

Phoebe’s cheeks flamed, and he knew a moment of remorse.

“Look, Reggie, we’re in a bit of a bind here. I would never suggest that you sleep in my bedroom under any other circumstances, especially since I can see that the idea repels you.”

Reggie sought to protest but Phoebe continued.

“Things are different now as I’ve probably already told you a dozen times. No one is going to say anything about you or me if you happen to sleep in my bedroom. No one is going to know. I understand that this isn’t done in your time, but it actually
is
in my time. I really, really, really think it would be a bad idea for you to go to a hotel, and frankly, you don’t have any money.”

Phoebe folded her arms across her bosom in a mutinous fashion much as he had done as a small boy when at odds with his father. He could hear the discomfiture in her voice when she used the word “repel,” and he cursed himself for being an ungrateful cad. Further, Phoebe was correct. He had no money, nor was he certain he could take lodgings on account since he was unknown.