Under An English Moon (8 page)

“Okay, Reggie, enough teasing now,” Phoebe urged. “You know very well that these
jeans
are my favorite pair, and I wear jeans everywhere.” She turned to Annie. “He’s just teasing, Annie, really.”

“Yes, of course, I jest.” Reggie’s serious expression didn’t look like he had been jesting, but short of tickling him, Phoebe didn’t know what else she could do to put a smile on his face to soften the moment.

Poor Annie,
she thought. The sooner she headed off to Hawaii, the better off they would all be. Phoebe regretted that Annie had invited herself along on the shopping expedition, but there was nothing she could do. Had Reggie not appeared, Phoebe would have set herself to pampering and soothing Annie’s broken heart, but she simply had her hands full with Reggie.

“Well, I’m sorry if I sounded like I was insulting your clothing. Why are you wearing it, by the way?”

Annie never could leave well enough alone, Phoebe sighed inwardly. She improvised.

“That’s what he’s going to wear on his photo shoot today, which he has to do before we go shopping. I forgot about that.” She checked her watch for no reason at all other than it helped her focus on her lame story. “So, I’ve got to run him over to my office this morning fairly early. In fact, I wonder if we shouldn’t head over there now so we’re not late. We could meet you for breakfast after the shoot? Say in about an hour?”

Annie wasn’t buying the story, and Phoebe didn’t blame her. Reggie watched them but said nothing.

“A photo shoot at the publishing house? Do they do that? I thought that would be done in a studio? Uploaded online?”

“Special deal with this cover. The author wants to approve it, has that written into her contract, so the photographer is coming over to our place. Really complicated, too complicated to explain.” Phoebe put a hand behind Reggie’s back as if to urge him to the door. “Where do you want to meet? Charlie’s Place down the street?”

She took Reggie’s hand to pull him toward the door, grabbing her bag along the way. Reggie picked up his top hat from the hall table and settled it on his head. Phoebe rolled her eyes. He would definitely stand out in the top hat. Well, maybe someone would think he was a doorman or something.

“Okay, see you in about an hour then!” Phoebe called out without turning around. She opened the door and pulled Reggie through, not an easy task given his much larger size.

She pulled the door shut and turned with a finger to her lips when Reggie opened his mouth to speak.

“Wait till we get downstairs,” she whispered. She dragged him down the hall toward the elevator, with Reggie lagging somewhat as he turned this way and that to study the hall. Right! He’d never even been outside of the apartment.

Phoebe stopped in front of the elevator. “Okay, Reggie,” she said, keeping her voice low. “I’m sorry about all that. I don’t think Annie believed me one bit, but I couldn’t come up with anything else at the moment. Hello?” She looked up at him. Reggie seemed not to hear her as he ran his fingers along the shining steel of the elevator doors and over the lighted button she had pushed.

“This is the elevator I mentioned last night. We’re in a tall building, and this carries us up and down the floors. By a cable,” Phoebe added.

“There are no stairs?” Reggie asked.

“Well, yes, but we’re on the fifteenth floor. That’s a lot of climbing everyday.”

“Fifteen floors?” he murmured with a shake of his head.

“The elevator is slow,” Phoebe added with a sigh as she looked beyond him to assure herself that Annie wasn’t following or setting out from the apartment herself at the same time.

A ding announced the arrival of the elevator, and the doors slid open. Reggie jumped back, startled.

Phoebe grabbed his hand again. “Come on. You’ll get used to all of this, you really will, Reggie.”

Reggie allowed himself to be led inside the elevator, keeping one eye on Phoebe and a wary eye on the door as it shut behind them. He grabbed the rail as the elevator began to move, and Phoebe was grateful he couldn’t see the actual motion of the elevator.

The realization of the complications inherent in taking care of this tall, handsome and very lost young man started to weigh on her. How could she possibly keep him safe, educate him in modern ways, even clothe and feed him? She had no experience with children, had never been called upon to babysit. Not that he was a child, of course, but she couldn’t help worrying about him as a mother might a child—as her mother did about her. The quintessential worrying mother of an only child, Minerva Warner never left her daughter any doubt that she loved her more than anyone else in the world, and Phoebe missed her terribly. The prospect of being a single mother of a one-year-old infant in those days must have been daunting, but her mother had risen to the challenge and been both father and mother to her, albeit with a more watchful eye than some of the other parents in their Midwestern neighborhood.

Phoebe suspected she was channeling some of her mother’s anxieties at the moment, but knowing that didn’t help her wonder how she was going to take care of Reggie.

The elevator arrived at the ground floor, and Phoebe took a deep breath as she waited for the slow doors to open. Past the doorman they would go, and out into the street. Her immediate plan was to take Reggie to a store right away and get him some clothes before they met Annie for breakfast...so they could go shopping again. She looked up at Reggie, hoping he was an easygoing man who wouldn’t fault her for coming up with such a harebrained scheme just to deceive Annie.

Reggie caught her eye and gave her a smile as if somehow reading her anxiety.

“Ready?” she asked as she took his hand again. She quite enjoyed this part of taking care of him—the touching.

Reggie surprised her by tucking her hand between the crook of his elbow and his side.

“It is only proper that I offer my arm to you, Miss Warner, and I am pleased to do so.”

Phoebe blushed, feeling a bit like a gal in one of her romance novels, but she said nothing. The doors finally opened, and they entered the lobby. Tim was off as it was Saturday, but a middle-aged tall and thin man in a gray uniform greeted them.

“Good morning, Miss Warner, how are you today?” He held open the door for them, but Phoebe paused for a moment. No time like the present to introduce Reggie to the doorman.

“Hi George, good morning. Ummm... George, this is Reggie Hamilton. Reggie is going to be staying with me for a while...maybe a long while.” Phoebe avoided Reggie’s eyes. She didn’t think she could bear to see him protest “Oh, no, not a
long
while. No, no.”

“Welcome, Mr. Hamilton.” George nodded and smiled.

“Thank you, George,” Reggie said with a regal air as he inclined his head.

If George had any thoughts about Reggie’s clothes, he never let on.

“Thank you, George,” Phoebe said. She sashayed out the door on Reggie’s arm but was brought up short by Reggie, who stopped and stared.

“Pon my word, Phoebe. Where on earth are we? Is that a horseless conveyance?”

Phoebe surveyed the street in front of her apartment building, trying to see it through his eyes. It was relatively quiet for a Saturday morning, with cars parked along the curbs on both sides of the street. Small city-size trees dotted the otherwise neutral gray concrete landscape. A passenger car meandered down the street.

“New York City, Reggie. And yes, that is most definitely horseless. We call it a car. You’ll probably get a chance to ride in one, a taxi...if you’re here long enough.” Phoebe heard her voice drop on the last words.

She looked up at Reggie to see him busily scanning the street, probably trying to comprehend everything. She wasn’t sure what she would do or how she would feel had she been the one who traveled to the twenty-first century. Luckily, he hadn’t heard the wistful note in her voice. She plastered a smile on her face, promising herself to make his visit a pleasant one.

“I think we should get moving just in case Annie comes out. So, the immediate plan is to get you to a store, find some clothes, and get you dressed before we meet Annie for breakfast. I’ll have to give you some sort of scenario for this supposed photo shoot that I lied about.” Phoebe tugged at Reggie’s arm. “Reggie? Are you listening? Come on, you can stare while we walk down the street.”

Reggie dropped his bemused eyes to her face and nodded.

“Is life always so complicated for you, Phoebe?”

Phoebe laughed. “No, no. I lead a very dull life. That’s why I’m not very good at this subterfuge thing.”

“Let us proceed then. I put myself in your hands for the time being.”

While they walked in the direction of Sinclair Publishing—and some stores—they discussed how best to convince Annie that Reggie had gone to her office for a photo shoot. Or at least Phoebe discussed and Reggie listened with half an ear while studying his surroundings with wide eyes.

“Reggie, are you listening?” she asked, feeling much like a long-time couple with her hand in his arm and asking the age-old question that women always would.

“Yes, yes, I am. Well, I am attempting to listen,” he muttered. “What in blazes is that noise?” He nodded toward a multitude of taxis as they jostled each other on the now busy streets, the drivers fighting for position via blaring horns. Phoebe hardly heard the noise anymore, but she remembered being shocked when she first arrived at the amount of noise in the city.

“Taxis. Horns. They’re only supposed to use them in emergencies, but the drivers use them to communicate, to say, ‘Watch out! I’m mad as heck! Take that! Get off my rear!’” She looked up at him. “You all have hansom cabs in London, right? I’ll bet they’re noisy. Same drivers—different century?”

Reggie grinned and nodded. “You may be right about that, Phoebe. Certainly, there is a great deal of shouting amongst the cabs.”

“Here we are!” Phoebe said with a flourish. She dragged him into the chain department store, doing her best to ignore the curious glances of passersby toward Reggie. Her lips twitched as several women in the cosmetics department eyed him with appreciation.
Yes, indeed, ladies, feast your eyes. Isn’t he handsome?

“Let’s see.” Phoebe stopped to read the store directory. “The men’s clothes are upstairs.”

“Shall we take the elevator?” Reggie asked.

“Nope, escalator this time.” She paused in front of the escalator, dropping her hand from his arm. “No, let’s not,” she said with misgiving. “Let’s take the elevator. I don’t think they have any real stairs in this place. I don’t want you to fall.”

“Nonsense,” Reggie said, eyeing the escalator with appreciation. He watched people ascend and descend. “I believe I can negotiate these moving steps with ease. If you please?” He bowed elegantly and gestured for her to precede him. Several ladies behind them waiting to step onto the escalator giggled. Phoebe hung back to let them go ahead of her.

“Oh my,” one of the little silver-haired women said. “Well, if you aren’t just the cutest thing. Isn’t he a doll, Mary?”

“Yes, indeedy. Do you work here, young man?”

“Not at all, madam,” Reggie said with a grin. “I am here to purchase men’s clothing.”

Phoebe covered her mouth with her hand. She agreed with the ladies. He was the cutest thing, but he wasn’t going to be too happy to see her laughing.

“Allow me,” he said as he took the hand of each lady and helped them onto the escalator to the sound of their continued twitters. He turned to Phoebe.

“Shall we?”

Phoebe smiled and stepped onto the escalator, turning immediately and holding her breath to see Reggie hop lightly onto the first step without incident.

“That went well,” Phoebe breathed.

“But of course, Phoebe. I am not a child. I can race a stallion over miles of rough terrain. I can certainly negotiate moving iron stairs.”

“I know, I know. I just worry.”

“Do not.” Reggie, on the step below Phoebe, took her hand and pressed it to his lips. Phoebe drew in a sharp breath. She could hear the “ooooh’s” of the ladies just above them as they watched.

“Oh my,” she echoed their early words. Mesmerized by his gesture, she failed to see that they had reached the top of the escalator. The front of her sandals jammed against the immobile lip at the top of the stairs, and she pitched forward with a cry.

Strong arms caught her from behind, wrapping themselves around her waist. She looked up from an awkward position precariously near the floor to see Reggie holding her. He pulled her up and set her on her feet. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the two little old ladies watching with concern.

“Are you injured?” Reggie asked in a rough voice. He bent his head to peer into her face, his breath fanning her cheek in an intimate way.

A faint sound like mice clapping caught her attention, and she turned toward Mary and her companion who patted their hands together in admiration of Reggie’s gallant catch before moving on.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Phoebe murmured with a shaky laugh. “I can’t believe that, after worrying about you,
I
was the one to fall on that thing.”

“I can see that it does have the potential for danger,” he said with a look over his shoulder toward the escalator. “You were right to be concerned.” Reggie straightened and removed his hands from her waist. Phoebe wondered idiotically if she could repeat the event on the way down, if that would guarantee him placing his hands around her waist again.

“Well, let’s head for the men’s clothes,” she said. She avoided grabbing his hand as she had that morning, shyly keeping her hands to herself. He did not offer his arm, and she thought it best given the crowded store. People continued to stare at him, especially his top hat, but she was rapidly growing used to it. She would have stared too...happily.

“Well, here we are,” she said on arrival in the men’s department. She checked her watch. “We’ve got about thirty-five minutes. I don’t know a thing about men’s sizes. I’d better get a salesperson.” She flagged down a saleswoman who came over to assist. The bored-appearing, middle-aged woman eyed Reggie with a raised brow, her eyes blinking when she looked at his top hat, but she said nothing as she fished a tape measure out of her pocket and ran it around his neck and then his waist. He threw Phoebe a harried look when the saleswoman wrapped the tape around his waist but said nothing, and raised his arms accommodatingly.