Page 112 of Almost A Scoundrel

But she shouldn’t have to, Phaedra thought darkly. That list had caused too much trouble already. She hoped those bastard earls were suffering too, even if just a little.

“We can’t hand the book over to Mortimer. If we do, they win,” Selena said.

“Agreed,” Phaedra said. “Let the duke come. He’ll learn soon enough that Sharp women don’t crack.”

Harriet grinned.

“What will you do about Deerhurst?” Selena asked.

“There is nothing to do,” Phaedra stubbornly held her position, and that was all she had to say on the matter. She’d been alone these past five days, but she refused to dwell on Deerhurst. She’d read books, too many to count, to divert her attention.

“Well, they are loathsome beasts to be sure.”

“It does seem that they are trying to protect all of the women on the list,” Harriet said.

Selena snorted. “Saville has been avoiding me.”

Harriet arched a brow. “But Warrick has not.”

Selene snorted.

Phaedra’s lips quirked for the first time in five days. Their banter was like the crispness of a fresh breeze.

Harriet’s gaze flashed to Phaedra. “I suspect Deerhurst has been keeping close to you as well.”

“I cannot say,” she murmured. “I haven’t been out and about.”

“Before that,” Harriet pressed.

Phaedra couldn’t deny that. He had, to some extent. But she still questioned his intentions.

“Who has been protecting Louisa?”

“I believe her younger brother has been quite the bodyguard,” Harriet remarked.

“What about Theodosia?” Selena asked.

They all stilled.

Saville.

“Surely not.” Phaedra found the idea laughable.

“If this is true, Theodosia is going to maim my brother when she learns of it,” Selena said gleefully.

Phaedra agreed, though inside she felt anything but happy. She couldn’t help but wonder if she was the only one who couldn’t find amusement in all this for more than a few seconds at a time.

She missed Deerhurst terribly.

What if you are carrying my child?

Ah yes. The thing she had most tried to suppress these past five days. The reason she had secluded herself. She might be carrying Deerhurst’s child.

And she didn’t know what to do about it. Didn’t have anyone she could talk to, anyone she could ask how she would know if she was or if she wasn’t. No book had been able to enlighten her either.

She felt numb inside.

A footman announced, “The Marquess of Leeds.”