Duchess Material

Six

P hoebe gazed idly around her classroom. It was a balmy afternoon and her students were growing antsy. They were separated into groups and supposed to be debating the themes present in The Odyssey , but more than one had strayed from their task in favor of school gossip. Class would be dismissed for the day in just a few minutes, so Phoebe decided not to scold them. There would be plenty of time to discuss the intricacies of Homer tomorrow.

There were many who thought teaching these girls the classics was beyond useless, but every boy that attended Eton read this text. And Phoebe strongly believed that literature shouldn’t be reserved for only the upper classes. Odysseus’s treacherous journey back to Ithaca had survived for thousands of years because it relayed something universal about the human experience. Something that spoke to people across eons and captured their imagination. Perhaps Phoebe could have devoted the hour to more tedious grammar exercises or penmanship practice, but these girls deserved a little adventure too.

She intended to have one of her own soon. Once school ended, she would head directly to Alice Clarke’s flat. Phoebe had not so patiently waited two days at Will’s request, but he was likely too busy with whatever it was dukes did to come all the way over here now.

I take my responsibilities very seriously.

Her neck warmed at the memory of those words spoken in his low, deep voice so close to her ear. If he ever learned how many times she had thought of that over the past two days, she would perish on the spot. Especially considering the elegant young woman he had left them for.

That’s Lady Gwen, Freddie had whispered. People say they’ll be married before Ascot.

As Will moved to stand beside her, even Phoebe couldn’t deny they made a striking pair.

So it did not matter what he whispered as they moved around the ballroom, nor the feeling of comfort that had washed over her while in his strong arms. And she must have imagined the spark in his dark eyes at the very end, just before he pulled away. After all, she had mistaken his attention for a deeper interest once before and had no wish to repeat the experience.

Phoebe gave her head a sharp shake, forcing the enticing memory to scatter.

“Who is that ?” Mabel Taylor suddenly rose from her chair and pointed to the window that looked out onto the street. “He looks like the king!”

“We don’t have a king, you idiot,” Florence O’Conner said, joining her. “He must be a lord.”

Next was Lizzie Abrams. “What’s a lord doing here ?”

“Girls, stop gawking,” Phoebe called out, but it was no use. The entire class was now crowded around the window. Girls were standing on their tiptoes and craning their necks for a glimpse. Phoebe glanced at the clock. The bell would ring any moment.

“Oh, he’s handsome,” Lizzie cooed. “I think he’s waiting for someone.”

“From this place?” Florence sneered. “Don’t be daft.”

“Well, why else would he be standing right there?” Lizzie countered.

Phoebe rose, prepared to intervene in case they continued to quarrel but then the bell rang. “All right girls, class dismissed.”

A chorus of groans rose up but Phoebe knew they were only sorry to lose their vantage point. “We’ll continue with The Odyssey tomorrow, when Odysseus encounters a cyclops.”

That managed to catch their attention, especially after she promised there would be blood. Then they gathered their things and dutifully filed out. Phoebe said her goodbyes and answered a few last-minute questions mostly regarding just how much blood until the room was finally empty.

Then she headed toward the window to see this supposed lord creating such a fuss. It was probably a clerk waiting for his sweetheart who worked in one of the nearby shops, she reasoned as an irritating flicker of hope began to kindle in her chest. The girls thought any well-dressed man was an aristo. It wasn’t him. He was too busy. Too important. Too—

But the rest of her well-reasoned points vanished as she caught sight of the man standing on the pavement across the street. The girls were right. This was no mere office worker. Even from this distance Phoebe could tell he wore an expertly tailored suit only the very wealthy could afford. And was indeed handsome. Exceedingly so.

Just then Will glanced up and caught her staring at him. He gave a little wave and pointed at the school’s front door with a questioning look. Phoebe immediately shook her head. If he came in here she would have to explain who he was and then she would never hear the end of it. Will seemed to understand and raised his hands in supplication. She held up a finger and he nodded.

Phoebe gathered her things as quickly as possible and rushed down the stairs just as Marion was coming up them, likely to see her.

“I’m late for an appointment,” Phoebe explained before she could ask. “But I’ll see you at home!”

Marion called out something but Phoebe just raised a hand in goodbye. She would answer for her abruptness later. As Phoebe exited the school, she looked over her shoulder to make sure no one was watching. Then and only then did she cross the street.

“Come this way,” she said to Will without stopping and headed away from the school.

“Is this how you always greet people?” he replied drolly as he followed her.

Once she rounded the corner and was safely out of sight, Phoebe came to a stop. She then discreetly looked back but no one seemed to have noticed them. She let out a breath and faced Will, who stared at her curiously.

“Worried about being seen with me?” He was clearly joking but Phoebe nodded.

“It would cause talk,” she explained. “My students all saw you from the window.”

“And you’d rather skulk about than just tell them the truth?”

“That I know a duke ?”

Will narrowed his eyes. “I meant that I’m a friend—” The scoff erupted from her without warning. “Of the family,” he continued.

Phoebe’s cheeks flushed. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine,” he said as he looked away to adjust his cuffs. “And you’re probably right to be so cautious. I don’t wish to make things difficult for you.”

Before she could reply, he continued on. Phoebe watched for a moment as he strode down the pavement, his smooth movements suddenly achingly familiar. But even if he had been a stranger, it would have been quite impossible for her not to notice such a dashing figure.

Will paused and looked back, his gaze now steady. “Aren’t you coming?”

A sense of familiarity washed over her. Back in Surrey he had always waited for her, even when she had been nothing more than the annoying little sister clambering after him and Alex, desperate to be included in their adventures. Phoebe’s heart clenched for one wrenching beat, then she trotted after him, suddenly feeling ten years old again. Once she was by his side, Will continued on. He fixed his gaze straight ahead as he addressed her:

“My secretary retrieved the location of the tenement house from Inspector Holland and from there was able to uncover the building’s owner.”

Phoebe brightened. “Oh? Who is it?”

Will glanced at her and shook his head. “It’s owned by a company. We’re trying to find out who is behind it, but that will be difficult. Usually people set up these companies to ensure their privacy. Whoever owns this flat also owns a few other properties in the area, including a music hall of ill repute.”

“Then perhaps it is someone with a reputation to protect.”

“Quite possible. But that doesn’t exactly narrow the suspects.”

Phoebe sighed. This was going to be even harder than she expected. She gestured up ahead. “There it is.”

They came to a stop across the street and took in the three-story structure. Like most of the buildings in this neighborhood it was verging on derelict. The front steps were in need of repair and the windows were clouded over from years of grime.

“Whoever does own this place is doing a shoddy job keeping it up,” Will said, his words dripping with aristocratic disapproval.

“Most of my students live in places like this. The landlords don’t care as long as they have paying tenants, and no one holds them to any kind of standards.”

“Well, someone should.”

Phoebe let out a snort at his priggish tone.

The duke turned to her. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” she amended. “Only that of course someone should do something. The deplorable living conditions of the poor isn’t exactly a new problem. There was talk of erecting something like the Katharine Buildings in this neighborhood,” Phoebe explained, referencing the East End apartments built for the working class by a philanthropic society a decade ago. “But whoever owns this block refuses to sell. Meanwhile, the people with the power to enact real, lasting change don’t care.”

Phoebe kept her eyes on the building, but she could feel his gaze on her.

“You mean people like me.”

“I suppose.” Phoebe shrugged. “But even you are only one man. This is a problem that will take more than a single duke to solve.”

“There’s that cynical streak again,” he said after a moment.

“Hardly. If I were a true cynic, I don’t think I’d be working at my school. Or standing here.” She turned to him then. “I still have hope that my students’ lives can be improved. But I know that for so many their days are filled with unnecessary pain, loss, and endless drudgery. That won’t ever change. At least, not in the ways that would make the most difference in their lives. Perhaps you call that cynical, but I’d be a fool to think otherwise.”

Just as his eyes began to soften with pity, Phoebe looked back to the building and straightened her spine. She wasn’t interested in any cloying remarks from him. She had enough of those from her mother. “Now come along, Margrave. We don’t have time to waste.”