Duchess Material

Eighteen

P hoebe laid with Will across her mother’s worktable in a sweaty tangle for what felt like an eternity until mutual bodily pain forced them apart. It was also growing late. If anyone caught her sneaking back into the house at this hour in this state, she was prepared with a number of explanations depending on the questioning party, but it was a situation she would still prefer to avoid altogether.

She did her best to button what remained of her ripped nightgown and knotted her wrapper at her waist. Will watched her closely as he righted his trousers and pulled on his discarded jacket. Phoebe could only manage to give him quick, sidelong looks. Now that they weren’t acting on their basest urges, she didn’t know what to do with herself. But it was Will’s behavior that was most puzzling.

My ruthless darling.

Oh how her heart had soared and her belly clenched when he had said those words. And though she did quite like being called ruthless, she most certainly wasn’t his darling. But did he truly want that? And, more importantly, did she?

“You’re frowning. Is something wrong?”

Phoebe turned to Will and shook her head. “No. Nothing.”

But the concerned expression didn’t leave his face. “I’m sorry. I know you said before that it was supposed to be just one night.”

“You needn’t cast yourself as some villainous seducer,” Phoebe replied with a lightness she didn’t feel. “I came here willingly, didn’t I?”

He smiled a little at that. “True.”

She then swallowed hard. A part of her rather did wish he would seduce her. Then this might all be a little more straightforward. “I should go.”

He began to say something, but then stopped. “All right,” he finally said.

As Phoebe returned his searching look, the full weight of what they had just done collapsed onto her shoulders. She suddenly felt like a girl again, awkward and out of place like when she would intrude on him and Alex during one of their convoluted discussions about books she hadn’t even heard of—let alone read.

“Good night, Will,” she said shyly, as if she hadn’t just made frantic, passionate love to him.

His brow furrowed, but he gave a short bow. “Good night, Phoebe,” he replied, using the stiff, cordial tone that had haunted her for years.

Though she might have a hundred memories of him as the older boy next door with scraped knees and winning smile, he was still the duke of Ellis while she was a humble schoolteacher. All she could have now were these few stolen moments until they came to the inevitable end. Lady Gwen may not be his duchess, but he would find one soon enough. And if Phoebe wasn’t careful, she would lose her stupid little heart all over again.

If you haven’t already.

On that alarming thought she turned and sprinted toward the house.

After watching Phoebe bolt across the lawn to get away from him, Will slunk home. He should have been relaxed and ready for bed after performing such vigorous activities, but instead he felt more restless than ever. All he wanted was to lock himself in his study and brood over a glass of whiskey. Unfortunately, Higgins was still up and waiting for him in the entryway. That wasn’t a good sign.

“Your Grace, Lord Fairbanks is here,” his butler said apologetically. “He arrived an hour ago. I told him you were dining with the Atkinsons but he insisted on waiting for you.”

Will cocked his head as he took in this information. “Did he give a reason for such an untimely visit?”

This had to be about Lady Gwen or the bill. Neither option was particularly appealing.

“No, Your Grace. He did ask for coffee though.”

Will sighed. It would not be a short conversation then. “Thank you, Higgins. I can manage the rest. Good night.”

Will gathered his thoughts as he made his way toward the study. Lady Gwen was a terrific girl, but they simply didn’t suit. And Will could not support a bill that included any punitive measures. Both perfectly understandable reasons. The earl might object at first, but he would come around after more consideration. He must. For Will would not be moved on either issue.

He opened the door and found that Fairbanks had made himself quite comfortable in Will’s favorite chair by the hearth. He had also moved on from the coffee and was enjoying a glass of Will’s favorite whiskey. At his entrance, Fairbanks turned with a feline smile that sent a prickling sensation down Will’s back and scattered his thoughts. It was quite the same way he had smiled at Maude just after he threatened her life.

“Ah. There you are.”

Will managed a placid expression. “Good evening. To what do I owe the unexpected pleasure of your company?”

But the earl’s smile merely grew at the pointed question. “You surprise me, William.”

The prickling sensation increased. Fairbanks hadn’t called him “William” since he became the duke. “I beg your pardon?”

“Have a seat first,” Fairbanks said as he gestured to the chair across from him.

Will was too distracted to be annoyed at being given such a lordly direction in his own home. He sat down while Fairbanks casually swirled the amber liquid in his glass and watched him like a bird of prey. Will raised an eyebrow at the man’s continued silence, but it had no effect. The earl seemed to enjoy making him wait. Will shifted his chair at the unsettling thought. What the devil was going on here? He was just about to ask, when the earl finally spoke.

“I confess,” he began. “I’ve wondered a time or two about the nature of your relationship with Alexandra Atkinson. The woman is such a cold fish that I can’t imagine anyone wanting to bed her unless they enjoy being glared at throughout the act. The middle sister though…” He paused to take a lingering sip while Will’s heart ceased to beat. “A surprising choice. Rather mannish for my tastes. I’d have gone for Winifred, personally.”

Will’s throat had gone dry. “What are you talking about?” he rasped. “And think very carefully about the next words that come out of your mouth,” he added with all the dukely hauteur he could muster.

Fairbanks gave him a pitying look. “Come now. Let’s not play at that. I know she’s your mistress.”

Hot shame washed over him. All this time he had been so focused on protecting Phoebe from the perils of the world at large that he hadn’t thought to protect her from himself.

“I’ve had a devil of a time trying to find a skeleton in your closet. I hadn’t realized you took all that moral claptrap spouted by the old duke to heart.” Fairbanks clucked his tongue. “But I finally found someone at Bow Street who had a very interesting tale to tell about you. I was certain he was mistaken at first, for why would the duke of Ellis dare show his face in such an establishment and for such a woman?” Will’s jaw hardened. Inspector Holland. Apparently the man did have a price. “You must be quite smitten with the creature to behave so foolishly,” the earl continued, his eyes now alight with interest. “I admit, I’m terribly curious to know what she has done to earn such devotion from you. Or is it merely the thrill of ruining an innocent young lady?” The earl then let out a knowing little laugh that made Will’s blood curdle. “I’ve done that a time or two myself, and it is an unrivaled pleasure to be sure.”

“You are a disgrace,” Will spat. “I would never behave so abominably.”

But the earl merely shrugged off the insult. “And yet, your actions paint a much different picture.”

Will dug his nails into the heavy fabric of the armrest. “What do you want?” he said coldly. “For me to marry Lady Gwen?”

Fairbanks looked genuinely surprised by the question. “Oh, heavens. I don’t think she would have you now even if you asked. No, my daughter is much too prideful. She was willing to overlook you being a common barrister’s son in order to become a duchess, but she will certainly not abide being second in your heart to anyone, let alone a woman so very far beneath her. Though I suppose it shouldn’t be so surprising that someone with your upbringing would still retain such plebian tastes.”

Will gripped the armrest to keep from lunging at him.

“No,” the earl continued, unaware of Will’s violent thoughts. “You’ll need to find some other girl. Though I imagine the pickings will be quite slim when I’m done with you.”

“Explain yourself,” Will barked. He had enough of the man’s insinuations, but the smug expression never left the earl’s face.

“Even you won’t be able to recover quite so easily from ruining a spinster schoolteacher. Did you know I own a stake in the London Daily ? It’s a terrible rag, but this is just the type of story with mass appeal. The perfect duke leading a seedy double life and dragging a promising young woman down into the muck with him.”

“I’ve done nothing of the sort,” Will protested.

“Oh, I highly doubt that. But it won’t matter either way. There’s enough grains of truth to keep the story in print for the next year, at least.”

Will gritted his teeth and steadied his breathing so he wouldn’t throttle that smug look off the man’s face. “Name your price then,” he finally said.

“Your support for my bill. As it is,” Fairbanks added.

Of course.

“But you will keep away from Miss Atkinson?”

“Yes, though I should tell you that she remains in a perilous position, especially now that my source knows what his information is worth. If you really want to protect her reputation, there is only one thing you can do.”

Will gave a stiff nod. Marriage.

“It would still be a minor scandal, naturally,” Fairbanks continued. “I can’t think of a woman less suitable to be a duchess, but then I suppose the duchy can weather another blow. It’s survived you, after all. And I’m sure Atkinson will give her a generous dowry, so at least you will get some coin out of it.”

“I don’t care about that,” Will snapped.

Fairbanks gave him an amused look but did not press further. Instead, he finished the last drop of whiskey in his glass and stood. “Allow me to be the first to offer my felicitations, then. I will see you in Parliament.”

Will didn’t bother to watch Fairbanks leave. When he was finally alone, he emptied the rest of the silver coffeepot into a cup and swallowed the bitter dregs. It would be a late night, and he had a hell of a problem to solve.

When Phoebe awoke the next morning, she blinked in sleepy confusion. It took her a moment to remember that, despite her surroundings, she was not a girl still living under her parents’ roof, but a grown woman—one who had enjoyed a passionate tryst in her mother’s greenhouse the previous evening. And though that had been a fine excuse for spending the night here, it was time to return to her normal life. Which most certainly did not include illicit liaisons with terribly handsome men. Just as Phoebe’s pulse began to race at the memory of Will’s warm hands gliding over her skin, she sat up with a start and threw off the covers only to immediately draw them back when she saw the sorry state of her nightgown.

“Good heavens,” she muttered. Thank goodness the maids weren’t about yet, for she would have a devil of a time trying to explain that . Fortunately, it was still quite early. Phoebe was hardly in the mood to speak with anyone, but her parents wouldn’t be up for hours and she intended to be long gone by then. Phoebe quickly washed, dressed, and gathered her things, then crept down the hallway. The house was only just beginning to stir and she had nearly made it to the entryway when Alex suddenly came charging out of the library.

Of course her sister was up with the dawn.

Alex came to an abrupt stop when she spotted her. “Oh. Hello.” She then nodded to the satchel in her hand. “Leaving already?”

Phoebe lifted her chin. “I’ve things I need to do. For the bazaar.”

“I see.” But her sister didn’t look convinced. “I don’t suppose you know anything about the light that was on in the greenhouse very late last night.”

Blasted Alex. Did she ever sleep?

“No,” Phoebe said with remarkable calm. “I do not.”

Alex raised an eyebrow in suspicion. “All right. But if you do happen to recall anything, you can tell me,” she said with surprising gentleness, though her thorny expression remained unchanged.

“Oh,” Phoebe bleated. “Thank you.”

“Have a good day,” Alex said with a stiff nod as she swept past her.

Phoebe stared at her sister’s retreating back. For a moment she was sorely tempted to chase after Alex and tell her everything, but then she turned down the hall and vanished from sight.

Once Phoebe was outside on the pavement, she let out a breath. That had been much too close. And while it was one thing for Alex to suspect something, Phoebe would be hard-pressed to explain the situation with Will to her mother. Or, dear God, her father . They would need to be much more careful.

Not that it will happen again.

But Phoebe wasn’t as quick to dismiss the thought as usual. Last night had been different. It wasn’t simply curiosity getting the best of her in a heated moment. No, this was planned. And she had gone to Will with clear intentions that could not be explained away so easily.

My ruthless darling.

She rubbed her chest, though the ache his words caused was not physical, and let out a silent curse at the fates that had conspired to make him a duke , of all things. For a girl like her, he may as well be a fairy king. He belonged to another realm. One that she could only visit. Phoebe then headed toward the main road to find a hackney that would take her away from this enchanted land of lords and ladies and greenhouse trysts.

Though her life may not always be easy, it was hers. The misplaced pity and doubtful remarks she had endured from friends and family had only fueled her determination to succeed, and never had she wavered. Had never even felt tempted to stray from the odd little path she had chosen for herself. Until now. Until Will. But belonging to someone would mean giving up her hard-won independence—especially to a man like him, to say nothing of the social obligations that came with being a duchess. Goodness, she would have to go to court . The very thought of spending the rest of her life traipsing from one ball to the next while enduring the ton’s endless disapproval was enough to make her skin crawl.

No. This was what she wanted . What she had fought for.

So then why did she feel so bloody confused?

Once she was home Phoebe took a much-needed nap in her own bed. She fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. When she finally awoke with bleary eyes and dry lips, it was afternoon. Marion had gone out to do some shopping, leaving Phoebe alone in the flat, so she took her time making a cup of tea to clear the cobwebs from her mind. She had just taken the first restorative sip when someone rang the bell. Phoebe glanced out the window and a messenger boy waved from the street below.

Phoebe grumbled all the way down the stairs and then all the way back up after she paid the boy. She finally sat back down to her tea and absently glancing over the note. But she paused mid-sip as her woolly brain surged to life. She read the note again more carefully and the contents revived her far more than her tea. She gulped the rest down, dribbling some on her chin in the process, then gathered her hat and coat. There wasn’t time to fix her hair. Even if she hurried, she would only just make it.