Duchess Material

Twelve

O nce Phoebe returned from her jaunt with Will, she spent most of the night tossing and turning, too agitated from the events of the evening to sleep. Eventually she drifted off, but even her dreams were filled with him: his skillful kisses, the feel of his commanding touch, and his unrestrained groans. When she awoke with a start just after dawn, her skin was slick with sweat and her limbs were knotted in the bedsheets, while the space between her thighs grew heavy with pent-up desire. She was so unbearably sensitive, wound so tight from this unrelenting tension between them, that she was able to bring herself to release in only a few moments. Phoebe gritted her teeth against the nearly overwhelming urge to say Will’s name as she came and settled for a muffled gasp. Then she sank into her mattress while taking heaving breaths and staring blankly at the ceiling.

She wasn’t anywhere close to feeling satisfied but it would have to do. Phoebe turned over and screamed into her pillow. She felt marginally better. Enough to actually get on with her day. But then she remembered what that entailed and felt like screaming again. After school she had to rush over to her mother’s house to discuss the charity bazaar with some of her society friends. And that meant being on her best behavior to win the support of these matrons. She had to be charming but not vain, humble but not pitiable, grateful but not grating. It was a delicate balance that Phoebe had never quite mastered, but that’s what her mother was for.

After dawdling for another few minutes, Phoebe hauled herself out of bed, washed, and donned her version of a suit of armor: a cream-colored blouse, a navy blue skirt with matching vest, a black tie, and a tailored jacket. She always felt especially confident in this outfit. Freddie once said it made her look rather mannish, but perhaps that was why. She then ate a sweet bun and gulped down a cup of tea before heading off to school with Marion. They made polite, impersonal conversation on the short walk. Ever since their argument about Alice, there had been an awkwardness between them that Phoebe didn’t know how to resolve. It also didn’t help that she hadn’t been spending much time in the flat.

When they reached the school and headed off to their classrooms, Phoebe’s relief was swiftly followed by guilt. Perhaps she was behaving cowardly, but she couldn’t deal with Marion’s judgment over her potentially disastrous personal choices at the moment. Anytime her thoughts dared to stray to Will, she gave the back of her hand a little pinch. But it was not very effective, as by the end of the school day the spot had turned red.

After a brief meeting with the headmistress to discuss a failing student, Phoebe was finally able to leave. She arrived at her family’s home later than planned—tired, grumpy, and more than a little hungry. Her mother’s friends would be coming in just fifteen minutes. Phoebe bustled into the house and ran straight up the stairs into her old room. She headed for the dressing table mirror and let out a sigh. She looked like someone who had barely slept and then spent a large part of the day trying to teach a room full of uninterested young ladies how to diagram a sentence.

She quickly fixed her hair and washed her hands and face, but that did nothing to improve the pallor of her cheeks. Perhaps she could slip into Freddie’s room and use some of the rouge she kept hidden in a drawer. Phoebe crossed the hall, knocked, and pressed her ear to the door. It didn’t sound like Freddie was in. She then opened the door to the empty room and walked over to her sister’s vanity. Mother banned Freddie from using any cosmetics, but that only made her very good at hiding them. Just as Phoebe finished dapping her cheeks and lips with the pot of rouge, someone turned the doorknob.

She slipped the rouge back in its hiding place just as Alex marched into the room.

“Freddie, did you take my—” She stopped dead when she saw Phoebe, but her usual stony expression didn’t register surprise. “Oh. It’s you.”

“You’re back,” Phoebe said dumbly.

“Mother didn’t tell you? We came home early.” Alex then cocked her head and narrowed her dark brown eyes. “I suppose you aren’t here to offer an olive branch, then.”

Phoebe swallowed, but before she could respond, Alex crossed her arms and looked away. “Father made friends with an American manufacturing magnate and his son,” she explained. “And they wanted to come to London, so here we are. Father’s off showing them the sights as we speak.”

While she had been left at home with the ladies. It appeared that Father did have some limits where Alex was concerned.

“Oh Alex—”

“It’s fine,” she said curtly as she snapped her gaze back to Phoebe. “They are interested in a partnership that could be very fruitful. And, since according to you all I care about is enriching already wealthy men, I’m inordinately pleased.” Phoebe bit her lip. This reunion was not going well at all. “So then,” Alex continued briskly. “Mother says your school is bankrupt.”

Just then their mother bustled into the room looking more harried than usual. She spied Phoebe and threw out her arm. “There you are! Come down at once. Everyone has started to arrive and Lydia Margrave has brought the duke.”

“Will is here?” Alex asked at the same time Phoebe bleated, “Her son?”

Their mother shot them an exasperated look. “Who else would I mean? Now come on, the both of you.”

Alex turned to Phoebe and raised an eyebrow. “Am I allowed to attend?”

“Oh Alex, stop being difficult and move ,” their mother said as she left the room. But Alex remained in place and stared at Phoebe.

“I’d like that,” she replied quietly and met her sister’s eyes.

More than a few cutthroat businessmen had crumpled under Alex’s formidable stare. After a strained moment, she gave a single nod and exited the room. Phoebe let out a breath and followed. But as she entered the light-filled drawing room her parents used for company, her ordeal had only just begun. Will rose from his seat beside his mother, tall, imposing, and irritatingly handsome in his charcoal day suit. His dark eyes immediately fixed on her and Phoebe’s stomach fluttered. Beside her, Alex cleared her throat and Phoebe realized the room had gone quiet, awaiting her greeting. She tore her gaze away from Will and cast a smile to the other guests.

“Good afternoon,” she trilled. “Thank you all so much for coming today. And Your Grace, what an unexpected pleasure.” She curtsied as Will advanced on her.

His expression darkened at her use of his honorific but he dutifully bowed over her hand. “The pleasure is all mine, Miss Phoebe,” he said smoothly, with a slight emphasis on her name.

A shiver ran down Phoebe’s spine, and she hoped to God no one else noticed the flush working its way up her neck. Will then turned his attention to Alex and Phoebe felt a prickle of jealousy at the fond look in his eyes.

“And Miss Atkinson. You survived your trip to New York, I see.”

“More or less,” Alex replied. Her tone was only slightly warmer with Will, but he smiled anyway.

“Well, I’m happy you’re back.”

Just as the prickle began to grow, his mother joined them. Phoebe noticed that Will’s smile completely vanished as his mother took his arm.

“When I told my son where I was off to today he insisted on coming along.”

“Really?” Phoebe turned to Will with an exaggerated look of surprise. “I had no idea the education of young ladies was of such interest to you, Your Grace.”

“I contain multitudes, Miss Phoebe,” he said, returning her cloying tone while his dark eyes glinted with amusement.

She opened her mouth to respond to that but her mother interrupted. “Everyone, sit please. Let’s begin.” She then shot Phoebe a significant look.

Phoebe joined her mother on the sofa and launched into her little speech, explaining how the school had greatly benefited from the proceeds generated from Lady Montgomery’s annual garden party, but the loss of that funding was felt even more greatly now because the landlord decided to raise their rent without warning. Her eyes inadvertently met Will’s and he gave her an encouraging nod that made warmth bloom in her chest.

“So we’ve decided to hold a bazaar in two weeks’ time to generate additional funds,” she continued. “My mother has generously offered to help, but we are looking for more volunteers. Admittedly my colleagues and I are not very experienced with planning and executing such endeavors.” A few ladies nodded their heads or murmured sounds of recognition. “Any assistance will be greatly appreciated.” Phoebe then gave a demure smile as she looked around the room. Hopeful but not desperate. Expectant but not presumptuous.

“And if you fall short?”

The sharp question went off like a gun. Phoebe turned to Alex. Because of course it was Alex. “Then the school will have to close until we can find another space,” she said calmly.

Alex raised an eyebrow. “Do you have another space in mind?”

Her hands tightened on her lap. “No. We do not.” Phoebe then addressed the room. “Which is why the success of this event is so important.”

“Now then,” her mother began. “The floor is open for discussion—

not you, my dear,” she added as Alex leaned forward, ready to strike again. “Let someone else have a turn.”

Phoebe’s shoulders relaxed as her mother took the lead. Most of the ladies appeared interested, but the greatest surprise was Will, who listened with interest and gave a number of suggestions that were irritatingly helpful. He even offered the use of his own ballroom for the bazaar.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Phoebe said diplomatically. “But we’ve already decided to hold the bazaar on the school grounds, so the students may easily participate.”

Will tilted his head. “An excellent idea.”

Phoebe couldn’t help blushing at his praise. Hopefully he didn’t notice. The discussion continued for another quarter of an hour, after which every guest had pledged either a donation or offered to volunteer at the bazaar.

“I think that went well,” her mother said as the guests began taking their leave.

“Yes, thank you so much, Mama. I truly could not do this without you.”

Her mother gave her a shy smile. “You aren’t mad at me then?”

“For not telling me about Alex?” Phoebe shrugged. “I suppose I can forgive you.”

“I just hate to see you fight,” her mother said. “And you’ve been so close for so long.”

They’d had the usual sibling struggles when they were younger but had been on good terms for years, until Phoebe had started teaching and Alex became increasingly involved in their father’s business.

“We have very different ideas of how the world should work.”

Her mother gave her a thoughtful look. “I’m not sure that’s true, darling.” Then she patted her hand and moved to say goodbye to Lady Kirby.

As Phoebe went to pour herself another cup of tea, someone came up behind her.

“Why didn’t you tell me the school was in such financial straits?”

She stiffened at the disappointment in Will’s voice. “Because we have a plan.” Phoebe then turned to face him. “And I’ve been relying on your help quite enough lately, don’t you think?” Will frowned a little as Phoebe brushed past him. “I hope you didn’t come here just to offer your assistance. You’ve wasted your whole afternoon.”

She sat down on an empty chair and gave him an expectant look as she took a sip of tea. Will stood in front of her with his hands clasped behind his back, still frowning. If he thought looming like that would have any kind of effect on her, he was sadly mistaken.

“No,” he said as he took the seat nearest her.

Phoebe tried not to notice the way his trousers tightened around his thighs as he sat down. The very same thighs she had straddled last night.

She cleared her throat, which had suddenly gone dry, but Will didn’t seem to notice, as he kept his gaze fixed ahead and lowered his voice. “I also want your word that you will stay away from Fleur. I will handle it.”

Phoebe bristled and took another sip of tea to help swallow her irritation. Of all the things she wanted from him, being an overprotective brute was not one of them.

“And what would Lady Gwen think about you going there?”

Perhaps that was a low blow, but it seemed vitally important to remind them both of her existence.

Will turned sharply toward her and scowled. “She doesn’t—” But then he stopped as if something had just come to him, muttered what sounded like a curse, and stood. “I’ve forgotten about an appointment.”

“Oh.” He really did look distressed. “Of course.”

Will shot her another look. “Your word .”

But before Phoebe could respond, her mother and Mrs. Margrave approached.

“Thank you again for coming, Your Grace,” her mother said.

Will plastered a smile on his face as he addressed her. “And thank you for accommodating me, Mrs. Atkinson. But I’m afraid I must leave immediately. I’m extremely late for an appointment that slipped my mind.”

She nodded graciously. “Oh, of course.”

“The carriage will take you home, Mother,” Will said, but Mrs. Margrave ignored that bit.

“An appointment? What appointment?”

He gave his mother an exasperated look. “Lady Gwen,” he grumbled.

It shouldn’t have been such a surprise, but Phoebe’s stupid little heart still sank.

“Good day, Miss Phoebe,” he said with a curt nod.

“Good day,” she replied weakly, but Will was already halfway across the room.

Mrs. Margrave stared after her son. “That’s not at all like him,” she said suspiciously. “I daresay that boy still remembers his school schedule.”

Mrs. Atkinson gave her old friend a sly look. “Perhaps he’s been a bit distracted lately.”

“Perhaps,” Mrs. Margrave agreed. “Though I’m not sure Lady Gwen is the one distracting him…”

Phoebe turned away from the woman’s too perceptive gaze. She didn’t agree with her theory, seeing as how Will had just barreled out of the room to meet the lady in question.

“Thank you again for organizing this, Mother. I think the bazaar will be a great success.”

“My pleasure. Will you stay for dinner, darling?”

Phoebe’s heart clenched at the hopeful look on her mother’s face, but she cast a glance at Alex, who was standing in a corner making absolutely no attempt to talk with anyone. “I can’t tonight. Sorry.”

“All right.” Her mother sighed then lifted an eyebrow in question. “You will come on Friday though, won’t you? Now that your father and sister are home?”

When Phoebe had agreed to attend Friday night dinner, she thought she would have at least a few weeks respite before Alex and her father returned. But now it was time to pay the piper. “Yes,” she said with a reluctant nod. “I will be there.”

Her mother broke into a dazzling smile. “Wonderful! I’ll tell your father tonight. He will be so pleased.”

Phoebe wasn’t quite sure of that, but she smiled anyway. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“That’s the spirit,” her mother said with a knowing wink. “Now, let’s take a turn about the room. There are a few more people you should speak to this afternoon.”

“I am at your disposal,” Phoebe replied as she took her mother’s arm. She was prepared to endure a great deal of inanity if it meant saving the school. But heaven help her if it didn’t work.