Chapter 34

Rebecca and Phileas left the St. Pierre home to return to their own homes in a closed coach left behind for them by Chatsworth. The director did not want the arrest or the unusual guests to the St. Pierre estate noticed. They did not speak a word to each other for a time. Each was lost in thoughts.

Rebecca felt justly proud of her night's work. She had put down the scoundrel. She begrudged Phileas for literally pounding him to the floor, but it did her good to see it done. And I am finally free of Nathaniel.

On the way out, he had pulled her aside and said, "Now that this business with Jordan was over, could I not start all over again and court you officially?" His eyes look full of hope that he might still get his prize.

Rebecca had considered her response for only a moment. She was no prize to be won and the impersonal shallow marriage he would give her would never be enough.

Phileas had been on the other side of the room waiting for her. She smiled over Nathaniel's shoulder to him and said, "Sorry, but I already have a suitor I am planning to accept."

Nathaniel had bowed out gracefully, letting her leave with one small statement. "If I were him, I would never allow you out of my sight."

Rebecca considered Nathaniel's parting words. Over the long months of this mission, both the parts she knew about and the ones she had not, Rebecca knew her fiancé had not done so. Even when Phileas had been in Paris, he had had someone watching her. He had even reentered the service at Chatsworth's bidding so he could oversee the mission. There had been a time when that would have irritated her, but Phileas had done nothing to hold her back and she had not felt smothered by his oversight. If Rebecca could be honest, she found it comforting and gave her added confidence.

Why did I battle with him about that before, pride? Had my need to prove myself been so strong that 'it' is what kept us apart?

Rebecca had known that Phileas loved her for years, but she had deliberately run from it, like a coward, to keep her independence.

No… I ran to keep from taking a traditional role I did not want. I was trained from childhood for the Secret Service, not marriage. I can't even put flowers in a vase right.

Old fears tried to choke her, fears that had kept her from accepting his love.

The Queen will order me from the service once I am married. I know it. Fear of the inevitable stung, but she forced it down.

All this stewing is pointless. What is done is done. It is far too late to be having second thoughts. I don't want to go back to the way things were.

Phileas sat beside Rebecca, feeling her tension rise. His thoughts had been in a happier vein. Walking around his all-consuming attraction to Rebecca was now over. She had been a part of his very soul for so long, and now she would be his completely and openly. There would be no apologies for the depth of his feelings. He wanted to hold her, but now did not seem to be the time. Something was troubling her, and he had a good idea what it was.

Rebecca had two loves; one just recently accepted and another of equal passion. In her mind and in his until recently, the two could not have had a chance of coexisting.

The issues of this mission had required Phileas to do some serious reorganizing of his attitudes. He had a much more liberal view about women's abilities than many of his contemporaries, but there had still been things that had contradicted his outward acceptance of Rebecca's independence. Sheltering her from monetary concerns had just been the most obvious. In his pocket was the first step in outwardly dealing with those inconsistencies. Pulling the sealed letter from his coat pocket, he laid his offering on Rebecca's lap.

Rebecca looked down at the envelope he put there, accepting it without a word. The royal seal looking up at her told her what it was. Phileas had gone to the Queen and asked their permission to marry. That was unnecessary, but not unexpected.

This is it, her congratulations from her godmother, and the order to leave the service. With Chatsworth's words about her position in the service being secure, ringing hollow in her ears, Rebecca opened the letter to take the news.

Dearest Rebecca,

We are most pleased to give our permission to you and Phileas to marry. It is our fondest wish that your years together be as happy as our married years. We look forward to sending our representative to your ceremony and will feel doubly content knowing the two of you will be happy together.

We also look forward to hearing how you choose to conduct yourself in marriage. Your service has always been a great comfort to us. We expect you will continue to give us that peace of mind in your new position.

"New position?" Rebecca said, frowning. Oh, she means as a married woman. She looked at Phileas.

"When I made the request for your hand to the Queen, I also let it be known that I would stand in your way should you wish to continue your duties to the crown." Phileas said. "You and I have had an uneasy partnership since I left the service. I think you now understand more fully why I left and that I will never choose to be a part of the service again, except as your support. Chatsworth and I have discussed this. He understands that too, and welcomes my lending a hand whenever needed, as you choose."

"Partnership?" she said.

"Indeed, just as we have done since I left, and with much less grumbling, this I vow. I have always recognized that you and Erasmus were more suited to the service than I. I never tried to stand in your way or his, though in your case, I am sure my reservations were more visible."

Rebecca choked down her reaction to that understatement.

Phileas grinned at that reaction. "So, if you choose to remain in the service, I will support your decision fully. And, just for the record, do you still want to marry me?"

"Yes," she said. "I most certainly do. Thank you, Phileas."

The if in his promise to support her position still hung between them, but Rebecca wouldn't address that with him yet. She would have to speak to Chatsworth first.

For now, the moment belonged to them. Rebecca had to be distant with him, until now, and she was heartily tired of it. She turned to Phileas in the seat and kissed his cheek. He smiled at her when he turned to meet her gaze. She kissed him again, on the lips, and put all she had into it.

The coachman, a service agent, stopped in front of Rebecca Fogg's home, the closer of the two cousin's homes from the St. Pierre estate. He had expected Fogg to open the door for his cousin and walk her to the door. When he did not do so, the man looked down through the side glass to see why his passengers had not gotten out yet. He grinned at the sight of the kissing couple and decided not to disturb them. Instead, he gently urged his horses to make a circuit of the nearby park.