Duchess Material

Twenty-Five

O nce Phoebe returned to London, she headed straight for Atkinson Enterprises. It was after five, but everyone knew Alex never left before six on work days. As Phoebe stepped down from the hackney, she paused in front of the handsome brick building in a prime location just outside the City. Atkinson Enterprises had occupied the same ground floor since her grandfather opened the original accounting firm forty years ago. But it was Alex and her ingenious knack for spotting the next big idea who had helped their father expand the business into investments. Now the firm’s offices took up the entire building.

The lobby was deserted at this hour and the click of Phoebe’s heeled boots echoed across the pristine marble floor. She hadn’t been here in years. When she was a young girl, her mother would occasionally drop her and Alex off while she did some shopping and together they would play in their father’s office for hours. Phoebe was more interested in the butterscotch candies he kept in a drawer especially for her, but Alex was already fascinated by his work even then. The memory rubbed against a raw spot in Phoebe’s heart as she passed by her father’s closed office door. How much simpler things had been between them back then. When all she needed from him was a kiss on the cheek and a handful of sweets.

As predicted, Alex was still in her office at the end of the hall, the warm glow from her desk lamp lighting the way like a beacon. Phoebe knocked on the open door as she entered.

“Hello, there.”

Alex barely glanced up from the portfolio she was studying. “Hello.”

If she was surprised by Phoebe’s sudden appearance, she didn’t show it. The small space was decorated with various odds and ends Alex had laid claim to over the years, like some kind of furniture-hoarding magpie. None of it matched, but it was rather charming in a way. It was the exact opposite of their father’s lavish office, where the museum-quality art, the sofa covered in watered silk, the matching Louis XIV chairs, and fine Aubusson rug were meant to impress perspective clients. But this space, with its unadorned walls and bare wood floor, was meant only for Alex. And she didn’t care what it looked like as long as she could get her work done.

Phoebe took the only other chair in the room besides her sister’s: a high-backed Baroque-inspired monstrosity she recognized from their late grandmother’s house. Once seated, she was noticeably lower than Alex. But the effect was likely intentional.

Phoebe craned her neck. “Where’s Father?”

“He left hours ago,” Alex replied without looking up from the page in front of her. “He never stays past four these days.”

“You shouldn’t be here all alone.”

“Why not? I do my best work when no one else is here.”

Phoebe ignored the pointed remark. “What are you reading?”

“A business proposal. What else?”

“Anything interesting?”

“It could be, if they agree to my changes.” Alex sighed and closed the portfolio. She sat back in her chair and met Phoebe’s eyes. “All right. Out with it.”

“What do you mean?” She added an innocent blink, but unsurprisingly this did not work on Alex, who crossed her arms in response.

“You’ve obviously come here to say something, so get to it.”

“Can’t I visit my sister without an ulterior motive?”

“Of course. But you wouldn’t set foot in here without one.”

Phoebe laughed. “That’s a tad dramatic, Alex.”

Her sister’s expression remained. “Is it? By my count you haven’t come here in at least three years.”

Well, she had her there.

“I met with Alice Clarke today,” Phoebe began. “She told me about Lord Fairbanks. How you bought all his debts.”

Alex softened ever so slightly. “Oh.”

“And I came here to thank you—”

“No need.”

“Alex,” Phoebe said with exasperation. “What you did was… was above and beyond what anyone else would have done. And so very generous.”

“You’re my sister. Besides, it was time someone brought Fairbanks down a notch.”

“I’d say you brought him down far more than that.”

“Yes, well.” Alex glanced away and Phoebe noted the slight blush coloring her pale cheeks. Goodness, she was embarrassed to have her good deed revealed. But when Alex met her eyes again, she merely shrugged. “I’m charging him a healthy interest rate. And it’s more than I would get having the money sitting in the bank.”

Phoebe couldn’t help smiling at her explanation. It was just so very Alex . “Well, I’m still incredibly grateful. I only wish you had told me what you were planning.”

“There wasn’t time,” she insisted. Phoebe was tempted to contradict that reason, but let it pass. “It seemed the best way to guarantee the earl’s silence quickly, and Will was so distraught—”

“What?” Phoebe asked before clamping her mouth shut. She didn’t want to know. Because it didn’t matter.

Alex raised an eyebrow. “Surely that isn’t a surprise. The man had threatened to publicly ruin you.”

“Yes, but…” Phoebe hesitated. Her stomach churned as she searched for the right words. “Will was annoyed by the whole business, and what he thought it required of him.”

“You mean the proposal?”

“If you could call it that,” Phoebe muttered. “I know he had already decided against marrying Lady Gwen, but I was not the alternative he had been considering before the earl’s threat.”

Even now, after all these weeks, she still couldn’t think of that afternoon without her shoulders hunching with embarrassment. Will’s aloof manner as he dictated his plan to save her reputation via marriage certainly hadn’t read as distraught to her. Formal, cold, clinical, even. But never distraught.

Alex was quiet for a long moment. “Speaking as someone who is not entirely comfortable discussing their feelings in delicate situations, or ever, really,” she began. “I suspect that what he actually felt went far beyond annoyance. And you must know that he didn’t propose to you simply because he thought he was required to,” she added in a disbelieving tone that got Phoebe’s back up.

“He made it perfectly clear that was exactly why he was proposing,” she said tartly.

“But, as I said to him, it was hardly the only option,” Alex pointed out. “Yet that was the first one he suggested. And I know how you’ve always felt about him,” she added.

Phoebe pressed her fingers against the wood of the chair as her defiant mind recalled the look on Will’s face just before he stormed out of her room. His visible disinterest had struck her heart as fiercely as a prizefighter’s fist, and she could still feel its echo even now.

I won’t make the mistake of repeating such an objectionable proposition to you.

“Why are you doing this?” Phoebe couldn’t hide the desperation in her voice. “I already told him no. It’s done.”

Alex’s dark eyes bore into her own. “Not until he weds someone else.”

Phoebe flung herself out of the chair and began to pace. “I can’t listen to any more of this.”

“In all that time you spent together, did you really never consider it?”

“Of course not.” Phoebe shot her a glare. “He’s a duke , Alex.”

“He’s also Will. You know him.”

Phoebe shook her head. “Which is why I know I can’t be the kind of duchess he wants. I’ll be a pariah and he’ll regret it within a week. And… and I won’t be able to bear it.”

Alex’s face lit with sudden understanding. “You’re afraid.”

Phoebe halted. “No.”

Yes.

“I always thought you didn’t care about society. About the gossip,” Alex marveled.

Phoebe gripped the back of the chair. “I don’t,” she insisted. “But… it’s easier to not care when you are removed from that world. And a duchess isn’t. She is expected to lead it.”

Just saying the words made her want to hide under the very chair she clung to.

“I understand your reservations,” Alex said. “And I can’t pretend it will be easy for you, but you won’t have to do it alone. You’ll have us, and Will of course.”

“But he wanted someone like Lady Gwen,” Phoebe said miserably. “The woman was born and bred to be a duchess.”

“Oh, to hell with that,” Alex broke out. “You can be whatever kind of duchess you want. And yes, Will thought he needed someone like her for far too long, but what he needs is someone who makes him happy. Someone who wants him for who he is, not that damned title.”

Phoebe smirked. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you curse before.”

“I only do it when someone is being particularly dunderheaded.” Alex punctuated this with a glower.

“A good policy,” Phoebe said with a laugh.

Alex broke into a small smile before she turned serious once again. “The point is, I can’t imagine Will being much bothered by petty society gossip, especially now . The man did just willingly ruin any chance he had at becoming prime minister,” she added and gave Phoebe a knowing look.

“That wasn’t my doing.”

“No, but I think you gave him the push he needed to be truer to himself,” Alex said. “I know the social obligations of a duchess aren’t very appealing, but instead of focusing on all the worst bits, why not imagine all the good you could do together?”

Your sister is human, despite her efforts to appear otherwise.

Phoebe’s mouth reluctantly curved at the memory of Will’s words. She blew out a breath.

“You’re quite insightful, you know.”

“On occasion,” Alex said with a brief smile.

Phoebe thought of Alice worrying about Maude’s future, and the crestfallen looks of the girls when they were told that the school had to close. She thought of Millie, wishing there was a school near her, and Mrs. Richardson, valiantly pushing on despite setback after setback. Phoebe’s heart sank with the heavy weight of regret. How much had she lost simply by being afraid? Alex was looking at her with the slightest hint of compassion in her gaze—a commiserating pout on anyone else—and Phoebe’s lip began to tremble.

“I don’t suppose you know what Will is up to now that Parliament is in recess?” she croaked.

“Last I knew he went to Derbyshire for the month.”

Her heart sank even further. It was one thing to travel to Mayfair for a mea culpa, but Derbyshire would take a little more planning. “It’s just as well,” she sighed. “Better I have time to think this through.”

Besides, even if Will hadn’t proposed merely out of obligation, his feelings could certainly have changed after her cold rejection.

You are obviously only doing this out of some misplaced sense of honor. So let me assure you, unequivocally, that it is not necessary. Nor is it welcome.

Phoebe cringed. She needed to do this right. But first she needed to figure out just what it was she wanted.

“Why don’t you go to Surrey for a bit,” Alex gently suggested. “It would be good for you to get out of the city.”

Phoebe thought about her lonely little flat and the long, aimless days that stretched ahead of her. “Yes, I think I will.”

“I’ll tell Father tonight. I know he’s been thinking of taking the Ericsons there for some shooting at the end of the month, but it will be empty until then.”

“Perhaps you and Freddie could come and stay too,” Phoebe said shyly. “It would be nice, us all together.”

Alex broke into a wide smile. “That’s a marvelous idea. Come back to Park House with me. Then we can tell everyone together.”

Phoebe rose from her chair. “All right.” For the first time in ages, she looked forward to going home. Phoebe clung to that warm, comforting feeling while she waited for Alex to gather her things. Then they walked down the hall arm in arm. As they passed by their father’s dark office, Alex turned to her.

“You know,” she began. “He still keeps those candies you always liked in his desk.”

“Oh? I didn’t know he liked them too.”

“I’ve never seen him touch the stuff,” Alex sniffed. “No, I think he keeps them there for you. Just in case you ever come to visit.”

Phoebe swallowed against the lump that had formed in her throat. “Well, then I will,” she rasped. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Alex smile.

“Glad to hear it.”