Duchess Material

Seventeen

T he first several courses passed pleasantly enough as Phoebe’s mother deftly directed the conversation with the nimbleness of a well-seasoned hostess. Phoebe learned all about the Ericson’s life in New York and their business. Every now and then she asked a question to keep things moving, while Alex only spoke to Will quietly, and Freddie was too busy giggling with Hank Junior. In other words, they each played their parts to perfection.

Things didn’t take a turn until they were done with the lamb. And Will started it.

When there was a lull in the conversation, he caught Phoebe’s eye and gave her a considering look. “How is the planning for the bazaar?”

Before Phoebe could even begin to answer, her father let out a snort.

“Don’t tell me you’ve gotten dragged into that school nonsense.”

“My dear,” Phoebe’s mother said to her husband in a cordial voice the family knew was a dire warning.

Will looked genuinely surprised by the comment. “I’d hardly call the education of young ladies ‘nonsense,’ sir.”

“It is for that sort,” her father muttered, ignoring the daggers in his wife’s eyes. “They’re better off spending their time earning coin for their families. Not dawdling the day away in a classroom.”

Phoebe set down her fork and glared at her father. She was so blasted tired of this old argument. “Or perhaps their parents should be paid a higher wage, so their children don’t need to work.”

“Don’t give me that look. I pay my employees well,” he said, tapping a finger to his chest. “I’m only saying that if the poor are going to complain about the lack of food in their bellies, they should be doing all they can to earn more. And sending their daughters off to school is a waste. What are you even teaching them now? More Shakespeare?”

“That was last term,” Phoebe said as calmly as she could. “It’s Homer now.”

Father scoffed and turned to Will. “See? What drivel.”

“And yet it’s good enough for the boys at Eton or Rugby or, heavens, the local grammar school, but not these girls?”

“ They aren’t complaining about a lack of food,” her father responded with exasperation.

“Only because they had the good fortune to be born to a different social class.” Phoebe had managed to keep her voice at a reasonable volume but she was nearly out of her seat now. If her father continued, she feared she might lunge across the table.

“I beg your pardon, sir, but Miss Atkinson has a point,” Will said crisply. “One can hardly blame the problem of hunger on the education of girls. That is another issue entirely, and one that requires its own solution. I’ve seen the school for myself and am more than happy to support its mission, however frivolous you may find it.”

He then met Phoebe’s eyes across the table. “But while I can donate money to good causes, the work of people like your daughter is truly priceless. We owe them all a great debt.”

Phoebe stared back at him in open-mouthed shock. No one had ever defended her so boldly before—nor challenged her father on her behalf.

But he merely narrowed his eyes at Will. “You’ve been to her school?”

“Yes,” Alex added as she turned to him with great interest. “When was this, exactly?”

Will blinked at them and shot Phoebe a panicked look. She was about to say that he had come on a tour with his mother, which of course would only lead to more questions they couldn’t answer, when they were saved by dessert. Or, more accurately, by Freddie.

As the footman placed the enormous apple charlotte on the table, she clapped her hands loudly and let out a delighted squeal. “Oh, my absolute favorite! Mother, you shouldn’t have on my account.”

“I didn’t,” she responded, raising a censorious eyebrow at her husband. “It also happens to be a favorite of our guests .”

Father let out a grumble and slouched in his chair. He had been sufficiently put in his place—for now.

“Is it really ?” Freddie asked Hank Junior, as if this was the most interesting thing she had ever heard in her life. “How funny!”

“Uh, yes.” The young man sat forward with a start. “It is.” He would not miss any chance to enjoy Freddie’s attention.

“Tell me, do you have an apple orchard by that great big summer house of yours in—where was it again?”

“Newport. And, no. We don’t have an orchard there.”

But based on the regret in Hank Junior’s tone, Phoebe would bet her entire salary the man would put one in before the year was up if it would lure Freddie there. She caught her sister’s eye over his shoulder and sent her a grateful look, which she returned with a subtle wink. Sometimes Freddie’s unrivaled ability to draw attention to herself was a gift.

After dessert was finished, it was decided that the ladies would not withdraw for tea, given the small size of their party. Instead, they all headed back to the drawing room.

Freddie insisted on playing piano for the room and recruited an eager Hank Junior to turn the pages, while Alex disappeared into a corner with a book. Phoebe’s father was busy showing Mr. Ericson his collection of rare maps, while her mother directed a maid on the best spot to leave the tea cart. That left Phoebe and Will alone on the sofa.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

“No need,” he replied as he draped his arm across the back of the sofa. If she moved over just a little, his fingers could have grazed the nape of her neck. The mere thought of which caused the spot to tingle. “I support subjecting everyone to Homer. I had a schoolmaster who insisted we memorize the opening of The Iliad in Greek, no less. It’s been nearly two decades and I still haven’t recovered.”

“How torturous,” Phoebe teased.

“Besides,” he said as he met her eyes. “Someone needs to challenge your father every now and then. Might as well be me.”

Phoebe could only hold his gaze for a moment before she had to look away.

“Have you been well, though? In general, I mean,” he added unnecessarily.

Was conversation always this awkward after you had seen someone naked?

“Yes, I’m fine. Busy.”

“Business or personal?”

She laughed at the little quip but still couldn’t look at his face. Not when he was this close to her. So she stared at his thighs instead. But no, that was a mistake. They seemed to strain against the fabric of his trousers. And now she knew just how well muscled they were. Phoebe shifted in place as she inadvertently recalled the memory of him vigorously thrusting into her. She cleared her throat and forced the inconvenient memory out of her mind, then glanced up to find Will staring at her with the very same heated intensity she had just been trying to forget.

She swallowed hard and his gaze followed the movement of her throat before lingering on her mouth.

To hell with awkwardness.

Phoebe gently bit her bottom lip and Will’s fingers flexed against the sofa. When he met her eyes again, the heated look only deepened. Then he raised a playful chastising brow and Phoebe felt an answering throb between her legs. She shouldn’t be thinking of such things when her own parents were just a few steps away. And yet it was the very illicitness that seemed to spur her on.

“Although,” she rasped. “I’ve been having trouble sleeping.”

“Have you now.” Will’s voice was deeper than ever.

Phoebe nodded. At some point she had leaned closer and so had he. “My bed has become terribly uncomfortable.”

Will gave a slow shake of his head as he clicked his tongue and Phoebe nearly melted into the sofa. “What a shame. Something needs to be done about that.”

Phoebe rolled her lips together in a desperate attempt to stave off the silly grin that threatened to ruin the moment. How was Will so good at keeping a straight face?

“Yes, I was hoping—”

“Here you are, my darling.”

Phoebe nearly jumped out of her skin as her mother handed her a cup of tea. “Oh, thank you.”

As she took it, her hand was trembling so hard that a little tea splashed onto the saucer. Luckily, her mother was too busy handing a cup to Will to notice.

For God’s sake, get yourself together.

Phoebe inhaled deeply and recalled her first disastrous day at the school, which had culminated with a student putting a dead mouse in her desk drawer. She had never shrieked so loudly for so long. When her mother took a seat beside her, Phoebe was mostly recovered.

“I’m sorry about your father,” she began. “He does mean well, you know. And Will, you were marvelous. I think you made an impression on him.”

“It didn’t look that way,” Phoebe grumbled.

“No,” her mother allowed. “But when you’ve been married as long as I have, you learn to see things others don’t.” Then she gave Phoebe a significant look before she rose. “Excuse me. I think I need to throw Alex’s book into the hearth to get her to mingle.”

“Just make sure it isn’t a first edition,” Phoebe managed to quip even as her cheeks heated.

Her mother pressed a hand to her chest in mock horror. “Never.”

When she turned back to Will, he had removed his arm from the sofa and was taking a sip of tea, as if nothing untoward had ever occurred.

Phoebe couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed. But that was silly, especially if her own mother had begun to pick up on this… this… whatever this was between them. After all, they couldn’t possibly repeat the other night. She herself had insisted it could only happen once. And she’d meant it. Hadn’t she?

Before she could examine her confounding feelings any further, Mother dragged Alex over and demanded she tell them about New York. After that, Phoebe tried to concentrate as Alex reluctantly recited her trip down to the most inconsequential detail. Phoebe’s rebellious eyes drifted to Will every so often, but he did not look her way again for the rest of the evening.

As the party made their way to the front door to say their goodbyes, Phoebe’s heart dragged behind her. The Ericsons left first and Hank Junior nearly fell down the front stairs because he was too busy staring back at Freddie.

“Goodness, you will be the death of that young man,” their mother remarked to which Freddie just laughed.

Will then thanked her father and mother for their hospitality, wished Freddie a good night, and made a plan with Alex to meet up soon. When it was finally Phoebe’s turn, he took her hand. “Always a pleasure to see you,” he said, once again the very picture of the perfectly polite aristocrat.

“You as well,” she replied, utterly failing to not hide her disappointment.

But as Will bent over her hand, his fingers tightened slightly. “Meet me in the greenhouse,” he murmured. “Ten minutes.”

Phoebe’s breath caught, but before she could form a response he had already moved toward the door. She stared at his retreating back until Freddie interrupted.

“Why do you have your coat? Aren’t you staying the night?”

“Oh you must, my dear,” her mother insisted. “It’s too late for you to go all that way.”

Phoebe blinked. This was too easy. “All right.”

“Shall we play cards?” Freddie asked.

Ten minutes.

“I’m actually quite tired. I think I’ll just go to bed.”

“Suit yourself,” Freddie said with a shrug and moved on to find Alex, who had drifted back into the drawing room with their father.

“I’ll send someone up to your room with fresh linens,” her mother said.

“Don’t bother the maids with that now,” Phoebe said. “They have enough to do. I’ll be fine. Good night. This was lovely.” She pressed a kiss to her mother’s cheek.

“Thank you for making an effort,” her mother said as she gave her hand a squeeze. “It really does mean so much to me. And your father too.”

Phoebe returned her smile and made her way up the staircase to her old bedroom. She would take just a few minutes to freshen up and then she would slip out to meet Will. It was as if she was living out a fantasy from her younger days. Only now she knew the reality was far, far better.

Will tapped his fingertip against a pane of glass as he waited in Mrs. Atkinson’s greenhouse among her seedlings. The full moon glowing overhead provided just enough light for him to make out his surroundings. It was warm in here and smelled a bit loamy and there was potting soil on his shoes. Not exactly an ideal place for an assignation, but not the worst either.

If she even comes.

He crossed his arms only to start tapping his foot. Why was he so damned nervous anyway? Either Phoebe would meet him or not. And so what if she didn’t? They had already slept together. It wasn’t as though there was any mystery left there.

Liar.

Will let out a huff. Half the time when they were together she drove him absolutely mad. The other half he was simply mad with desire. He had only gotten the smallest taste these last few weeks, and Will needed more. He wanted to search every inch of Phoebe Atkinson, both in body and mind until he knew her soul like he knew his own.

And dammit, he ached for the chance even though the fallout would be hell. That was what this obsession had done to him. All those years spent examining every move, every thought, every feeling, of making the right alliances, the right friends, being seen in the right places with the right people to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was good enough for his blasted title could be undone in an instant by a wild, reckless girl who didn’t give a damn about any of it.

But at no point over these last weeks had Will actually tried to stop this mad mission of hers. He reprimanded, he scolded, he heartily disapproved, but never anything more beyond that. He had not gone to her parents, nor taken her away somewhere for safekeeping until she came to her senses. Nor had he gone to the authorities. Instead, he encouraged her. Accompanied her. Made love to her. Because he liked her relentless determination, even when it put him out of his mind with worry. And he liked who he was while in her company.

No, Will had made plenty of his own choices that led him to this moment. And there were plenty more that would have led him somewhere else. But he alone decided to come to dinner this evening hoping to see her. And he was the one who had suggested this meeting. Phoebe may have lit the match, but Will held the wick. It was still up to him if the bomb would go off.

Someone tapped on the glass behind him and Will whirled around. His heart pounded harder as Phoebe flashed him a smile and entered. She had changed into a paper-thin ivory wrapper and held a small lamp in her hand. She wore a pair of matching slippers with no stockings and the lacy hem of her nightgown grazed her bare ankles, while her hair hung over her shoulder in a loose braid. Will’s fingers twitched with the unholy urge to tug on it, so he shoved his hands in his trouser pockets. God, he was a wreck.

Phoebe breezed past him and set down the lamp on a worktable. “I didn’t realize you had such an affinity for flowers,” she said with a teasing gleam in her eye. “Mother will be delighted.”

Will pushed away from the wall and walked toward her. He was supposed to return her remark with a quip of his own so they could parry a few times in their usual way.

But not tonight.

Will gripped her waist and pulled her against his chest. “Kiss me,” he growled without any trace of embarrassment. This is what she had done to him: reduced him to pure animal need.

Phoebe’s eyes flashed with surprise in the orange gaslight before softening into another smile edged with affection. “Very well.”

She lifted on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his mouth. It was a kiss of gentle exploration, of tender warmth—and nowhere near enough. After a few searching moments, Will snaked an arm around her waist and hauled her off her feet. He kissed her harder until her lips parted to welcome his demanding tongue. They didn’t have time for tenderness. He needed to lose himself in her fire, her sharpness for what little time they were allotted.

She quickly took the lead and met his tongue stroke for stroke. Will grunted as she palmed his stiff cock through the straining fabric of his trousers and he broke the kiss with a gasping smile.

“You’re quite ruthless, you know.”

Phoebe chuckled and leaned closer. “Does that bother you?”

“Absolutely not. I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

Her eyes dimmed slightly just before she looked away. Will opened his mouth to question her reaction, but then she stroked him harder this time, with more urgency.

“Will,” she whispered in a needy tone he had never heard from her before. Whatever thoughts, whatever self-recriminations faded until he could think of nothing but sating her.

He lifted Phoebe on top of the worktable without any finesse and tore open her wrapper. Her chest was heaving and he could make out the rosy tips of her hard nipples beneath the gossamer fabric of her nightgown. Phoebe began to undo the pearl buttons that started beneath her chin, but her trembling hands kept faltering.

She let out a few adorable curses and managed to expose the hollow at the base of her throat, but it wasn’t nearly enough and her progress was far too slow.

Will brushed her hands aside and fingered the lacy neckline. “Is this important to you?”

She gave him a bemused look. “No?”

“Good,” he muttered just before he ripped open the front of her nightgown.

Phoebe gaped up at him, but Will simply raised an eyebrow in challenge.

After a moment she dragged her hands through his hair and kissed him with renewed fervor. He then roughly grazed his lips along her jaw and down her throat as she let out a series of urgent cries. Will gently bit her exposed shoulder before nuzzling her décolletage. He paused at the hollow at the base of her throat and gave it a slow, lingering lick as Phoebe shivered beneath him.

“Will,” she begged. “Please.”

“Not yet. I feel like torturing myself a little more.”

He fell to his knees like a weary pilgrim on the steps of a sanctum, ready to worship. Then he pushed up the fabric of her nightgown and spread her legs wide before burying his face between her thighs.

As he dragged his tongue along the seam of her quim, Phoebe let out a startled moan that Will wanted scorched inside his brain so that he might always remember the sound of her surrender. She dragged her fingers through his hair, pushing and tugging as if she wasn’t sure whether to stop him or keep him there, but either way Will would not relent. Not until she was screaming his name whilst in the throes of unimaginable pleasure. Consequently, he did not have to wait very long.

Phoebe began to squirm beneath his hands, both relentless and wanting, chanting his name until it nearly lost all meaning and he knew it was time.

“Now come for me, my ruthless darling,” Will said as he slowly eased a finger into her lush, pulsing channel. He was rewarded by a fierce tug on his scalp as Phoebe cried out for him.

After a few more moments spent wringing every last tremor from her, Will clambered to his feet. But Phoebe looked wilder than ever. Her eyes had taken on a feral sheen in the lamplight as she pushed his jacket off his shoulders.

“I need you,” she gasped.

They were the sweetest words he could imagine hearing from her. This woman who made it a point of not needing anybody, especially not him. Will tossed his jacket on the floor and nearly ripped the buttons off his trousers in his eagerness. Just before he entered her, he paused. Phoebe’s eyes were now bright with anticipation, but there was something else in her manner that caught his attention. This unspoken feeling of understanding that sprung between them so easily. She seemed perfectly at ease in his presence, even now. And, come to think of it, so did he. Will slowly drew out his erection, and Phoebe watched with rapt attention as he gave it a long, smooth tug.

She raised an eyebrow. “Are you teasing me?”

“No.” Will smiled. “I just want to remember this. All of it.”

Her gaze softened and she pulled him in for a long, searching kiss. As she dragged her fingers through his hair, Will swore he could feel the tenderness behind the motion, everything she would not say to him. Yet. But even tender feelings could not stave off the heat between them and soon they were once again desperate and gasping for each other.

Will fit himself at her entrance and slowly pushed inside.

“God, Phoebe,” he rasped as she pressed a hand to his backside and urged him in even deeper. She responded by wrapping her legs around his waist and Will leaned forward, gripping the edge of the table with one hand while the other tangled in Phoebe’s hair. He found the end of her braid and gave it a gentle tug until she leaned back, exposing her lovely breasts to him. Will took a nipple in his mouth and began to suck in time with his thrusts, which had quickly lost any sense of finesse. She let out another cry and arched beneath him. Will pounded into her harder as he felt her begin to clench around his aching cock. Somehow he had the wherewithal to swirl his thumb around the sensitive nub of her sex and she suddenly jerked against his chest, screaming his name into his shoulder. Will only lasted another few thrusts before he wrenched himself from her and spilled onto her bare thigh.

He let out a breathless laugh at the heady sensation that washed over him and then wrapped her in his arms. Phoebe, his wild, reckless love. How could he ever let her go?