Duchess Material

Twenty-Seven

A re you all right? You’ve been awfully quiet ever since we got here.”

Alex’s words roused Phoebe from her thoughts. She shifted in her chair by the hearth and faced her sister.

“Sorry. I’m fine,” she said with a smile that felt as forced as it must have looked.

For the last day, Will had barely left her mind. The regret that had been gnawing at her for weeks had reached a violent crescendo once he was standing before her in the flesh. Phoebe could see so clearly how her own misgivings had drowned out the very real feelings she had for him. Feelings she was now utterly incapable of ignoring.

Alex immediately frowned. “If you didn’t want us to come, you should have said so.” She and Freddie had arrived that afternoon and they had all retired to the cozy parlor after an early supper.

“No, it’s not that at all. I’m so glad you’re both here. Truly.”

“For goodness’ sake, go easy on her, Alex,” Freddie chimed in from her place sprawled on the chaise, where she was sipping her second glass of sherry. Or was it her third? Phoebe had been too distracted to keep track. “She’s obviously still heartsick over Will,” Freddie added with a dramatic sweep of her arm.

Definitely a third sherry.

Alex narrowed her eyes at Phoebe. “Is that it?”

Freddie let out a sputtering laugh. “Considering she’s actually in possession of a full range of human emotions, yes.”

Phoebe shot her a chiding look as Alex crossed her arms. Freddie had been in an unusually prickly mood that evening, which wasn’t helped by the wine she’d imbibed at supper. Phoebe suspected Hank Ericson was the culprit, but hadn’t had the chance to ask.

“I have emotions,” Alex insisted. “But last time we spoke you only said you needed time to think. Has something changed?”

Phoebe picked at a loose thread on her skirt. “You could say that.” She then explained about her visit with Cal yesterday, along with Will’s unexpected appearance.

“Oh God,” Freddie said with wide eyes. “How mortifying.”

“Now look who’s being insensitive,” Alex crowed.

Phoebe let out a groan and slumped in her chair. “It’s true though. I looked like an idiot. A fickle idiot, at that.”

“But he did come after you,” Freddie pointed out. “Surely that means something good.”

“It means he was being polite,” Phoebe replied. “To save us both any future awkwardness.”

After going over their brief conversation a hundred times at least, that was her most indulgent interpretation. The worst was Will thinking she was a self-important little harpy and needed to be sure she had left the property—Phoebe couldn’t torture herself with that one anymore.

“No, I agree with Freddie, actually,” Alex said with a decided nod. “He didn’t have to do that. Rather dramatic, if you ask me.”

Freddie let out a snort. “You think any kind of expression is dramatic.”

Alex sat forward in her chair. “Running out of the house in a wet shirt is dramatic!”

“And romantic,” Freddie said with a dreamy sigh. “Oh, I’m excited for you!”

Phoebe crossed her arms against the flutter in her chest. “Why? Nothing has happened.” She said it as much for herself as her sister.

But Freddie simply held up a finger. “Yet.”

“Perhaps we can all go for a picnic tomorrow,” Alex suggested. “Remember that spot where we used to pick daisies?”

“They don’t need a picnic,” Freddie cut in. “They need to be alone .” She then waggled her eyebrows.

“You truly are a master of subtly,” Phoebe remarked.

“The we can suggest they go for a walk just the two of them,” Alex tried again, but Freddie let out an exasperated sigh.

“That is so obvious!”

Alex lifted her chin. “Well, I wouldn’t suspect anything.”

“Because, again, you aren’t normal.”

“All right, that’s enough,” Phoebe said as Alex’s mouth fell open in offense. “Freddie, none of us are anywhere close to normal. If you manage to think of a not painfully awkward way to get us alone, do let me know. But for now I’m off to bed. And a picnic does sound like a lovely idea, Alex. With or without the Margraves.”

“I’ll send a note first thing tomorrow,” Alex said, resolute.

“Sleep well, sisters,” Phoebe replied as she rose from her chair. “And try to be nice to each other once I leave.”

Freddie mumbled an apology while Alex gave a begrudging nod.

But hours later, despite her exhaustion, Phoebe was still wide awake. She had been tossing and turning since the moment she laid her head on her pillow, as every time she closed her eyes, all she saw was Will standing before her on the lane while Freddie’s words echoed in her mind:

Surely that means something good.

With her sisters’ encouragement fresh on her mind, Phoebe forced herself to examine their exchange with new eyes. Though he had every right to coldly dismiss her from his home, he did the exact opposite. He was courteous and apologetic and, most baffling of all, kind.

But that wasn’t fair. Will had always been kind to her, even when he was also being insufferably stuffy. Phoebe smiled in the darkness as she remembered the priggish duke who had barged into Inspector Holland’s office. How much he had changed since then. How much she had changed. But her feelings for Will remained stubbornly, achingly consistent.

Freddie was right about one thing: they did need to speak alone. But with her sisters here already creating havoc and their parents following a few days later, her options were quickly shrinking. Tonight could be her last chance to say everything she had been mulling over since he followed her out onto the footpath.

Phoebe sat up and pushed back the covers. If he rejected her, so be it. He had every right to do so. But even still, she had to know. Had to be certain whether all was lost between them or if there was the slightest chance to have her heart’s deepest desire. The tiny flicker of hope her sisters’ words had sparked grew into a guttering flame as Phoebe quickly dressed and stole out of the house. Luckily, the moon was full and lit her way through the woods. But even if it had been pitch dark out, she would have found the way. Phoebe could always find her way to Will.

Will turned onto his back and let out a sigh. It had been a good two hours since he’d retired and the house had long gone silent, but he still couldn’t sleep.

Though he had been relieved to learn that Phoebe and the Clarke girls were entirely safe from Lord Fairbanks, a small, selfish part of him was disappointed. For it meant he was absolutely useless to her now.

He had just resolved to get a book when there was a rustling outside. Will sat up and waited, just in case he was hearing things, but after a moment, the sound came again. Something was definitely outside—and getting closer. Will frowned as he threw back the covers and stepped lightly across the room. It had to be some kind of bird or animal. What else would it be at one in the morning? He paused for a moment, then pushed open the window, hoping the sound would scare off whatever was out there. But instead the something fell inside . Not something, he immediately realized, but someone .

Will swore as the intruder toppled directly against him. They both hit the floor hard, with Will taking the brunt of the landing. He let out a groan while a pair of small hands pressed onto his chest.

“Good lord,” the intruder hissed. “You aren’t wearing a shirt.”

He blinked at the dark mass as a familiar scent cut through his confusion. “Phoebe?”

She threw off the hood of the cloak she was wearing and looked down at him. Her eyes sparkled in the low light. “Or trousers.”

Will immediately pushed her off him and launched to his feet. Then he wrapped the heavy velvet curtain across his torso, as it was the only available piece of fabric within reach. “Well, I was abed. And wasn’t exactly expecting anyone,” he huffed.

“I’m not criticizing you,” Phoebe said as she stood. “I’m just surprised.”

For some reason he found this insulting. Will raised an eyebrow. “I suppose you thought I wore an ankle-length nightshirt and a cap?”

“Not a cap .” Phoebe laughed. “But definitely a nightshirt.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” he said crisply.

“I never said I was disappointed,” she murmured and moved deeper into the room.

Will pressed the curtain even tighter across his hips as this strange mixture of humiliation and arousal coursed through him. He cleared his throat in an attempt to sound somewhat controlled. “Would you mind telling me what you’re doing here? And why you didn’t use the front door?”

Phoebe glanced at him over her shoulder. “At this hour? I was trying to be more inconspicuous to protect my reputation,” she explained, though it sounded like she was teasing him. “I thought you’d approve. Besides,” she added as she began studying his room. “I didn’t know you’d be naked.”

Will let out a cough. “Yes, well.” He didn’t finish the thought. She had moved to the large bookshelf in the corner that held various knickknacks, and Will suddenly felt even more naked—if that was possible.

“You have an awful lot of poetry books,” she observed.

Good. Poetry. A completely innocuous topic they could discuss whilst he hid behind a drape.

“I fancied myself an heir to the Romantics at one time.”

She threw him a scandalous look. “Even Lord Byron?”

“In my younger days,” he admitted. “I’m not proud of it.”

Then she gave him a smile that made the drape feel even more inadequate and he had to clear his throat again. “Would you mind handing me my dressing gown?” He pointed to where it was slung over the back of a chair near her.

Phoebe tossed it to him. Then returned to her perusal of the bookcase to give him a bit of privacy. Will knotted the dressing gown tighter than usual. She seemed remarkably at ease while standing in a man’s bedroom in the wee hours of the night.

“Do you make it a habit of climbing through windows?” Lord, he hated how priggish he sounded.

“No,” she said measuredly and continued to scan the shelves. “Only with you.”

His heart seemed to miss several beats, but before Will could respond to this admission, Phoebe came to an abrupt halt. Something had caught her eye. As soon as she reached toward the right-hand corner of an upper shelf, Will remembered and his heart came stuttering to life.

Dammit.

She pulled down the pencil drawing slightly yellowed with age and stared at it for a long moment while Will’s stomach became well acquainted with the floor. He had completely forgotten about the drawing.

“I didn’t know you kept this,” she said, her voice understandably full of astonishment.

Will swallowed. This… would be difficult to explain. It was a relic from that long-ago summer. Alex and Phoebe had come to visit him and Cal one evening and they all sat in the back garden enjoying the long, later hours of daylight.

In just a few weeks Will would learn about the dukedom, but that evening he was blissfully unaware of what fate lay in store. Instead it was Phoebe, with her long hair and sly wit, who kept his attention. Cal was always sketching in those days. His fingers never seemed to stop moving, and as they all chatted he drew. First a blooming shrub, then a happy little mouse dressed in a suit, and finally Phoebe in all her sun-kissed summer glory.

When he showed her the finished portrait, she immediately declared her chin too sharp and made Cal put it under the sketch pad out of her sight. But later, after the sisters had left and Cal had gone inside, Will went back for it. He thought it a marvelous likeness. Cal had expertly rendered her heart-shaped face, which Will thought was perfectly proportional, along with the mischievous gleam in her eye.

“I liked it,” he said simply, for that was the truth.

She let out a short, baffled laugh and ran a finger along the edge of the yellowed paper. “I was so embarrassed when Cal showed this to me, though I can’t remember why now.”

“It is a very good likeness.”

Phoebe began to turn toward him and paused. “I barely dared to hope back then that you… you saw me like that.”

The firelight danced along her profile, illuminating the delicate slope of her nose, her parted lips, and, yes, her perfectly pointed chin.

“I’ve always seen you, Phoebe,” Will breathed. It was a relief, in a way, to say the truth aloud.

As she met his gaze, Will was beyond grateful to see the desperate hunger in her eyes. His was probably worse.

“Why did you come here?” He forced the question past his lips and paired it with a tentative step forward. It felt like he was standing barefoot on a bed of nails as he awaited her answer.

Her eyelids fluttered, as if she had just woken up. “I… I wanted to speak to you,” she murmured.

Will inhaled deeply in a futile attempt to control the erratic beating of his heart and took another step. “About something that couldn’t wait till morning?”

She shook her head slowly. “No.” The word was softer than a whisper.

Will opened his mouth to speak, but his words were lost as Phoebe suddenly ran to him. He wrapped her in his arms without a thought and pulled her to his chest.

“I’m sorry,” she said against his neck. “I’m sorry I was so awful to you back in London when you were only trying to help.”

He stroked her hair and it slid under his fingertips like silk. “You weren’t awful. I behaved like a pompous ass.” He could feel her answering smile. “I deserved it.”

“Even still, I shouldn’t have spoken so harshly,” she said. Then she pulled back and met his eyes. “I came here to ask for your forgiveness. And your friendship.”

Will cupped the side of her face with his palm and gently stroked her cheek with his thumb. “You never lost it.”

But Phoebe shook her head even while she pressed her hand to his, as if there was any chance he would have pulled away. “Well, I should have. The things I accused you of—”

“Phoebe, please,” Will urged. “We both said careless things we didn’t quite mean in the moment. I know that.” Then he let out a breath. “But I should have been more understanding about your reservations instead of deluding myself into thinking you need me.” He let out a dry laugh. “But that was only because I wasn’t ready to accept the truth—that it was I who needed you.”

She gaped at him. “You… you do?”

“Most ardently,” he said with a decided nod. “You’ve had my heart since that summer,” he said, gesturing to the drawing. “And then I wasted an awful lot of time thinking I needed someone to fit into my life. A life I was forced into. But I won’t do that anymore. I want to fit into yours.”

She pressed her forehead to his chest. “What’s left of it, you mean?”

Her morose tone set his teeth on edge. “This is just a setback. You’re meant to do great things, Phoebe. And I want to be there while you do them. That is, if you’ll let me.”

She huffed a laugh that fanned out across his skin and tilted her head up. “You say that as though there’s any doubt even while I stand here.”

“Well, you weren’t so keen on it before,” he reminded her.

“True,” she said with a nod. “It wasn’t until I talked to Alex that I realize how scared I was.”

Will raised an eyebrow in question. “Of me?”

“God, no ,” she said fiercely. “About being a duchess,” she admitted. “And the expectations that come with the title. It sounds so silly now, but I let that overrule everything in the moment.” She paused for a breath. “Even the love I felt for you.”

Will’s chest warmed at her words. “My darling,” he breathed as he cupped her cheek once again. “But it is scary. I understand that. Believe me. Perhaps more than anyone.”

Phoebe’s eyes fluttered shut and she leaned her forehead against his chest once again. “I’ve been such an idiot.”

Will smiled as he began to rub her back. “May I get that in writing? Preferably engraved on a plaque of some kind?”

Phoebe grinned up at him. “It can be your wedding present,” she quipped.

“An excellent idea. I accept. But only if you kiss me first.”

She pressed a much too chaste kiss to the hollow at the base of his throat. “Does that count as me proposing to you?”

Will tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Let’s call it a draw and say we both did.”

“Oh, I like that idea,” she said brightly.

“I thought you might.” He gave her a sly smile as he leaned in. “Duchess.”

Phoebe broke into a laugh just before he pressed his lips to hers. “You know, that doesn’t sound half bad when you say it.”

“I’m delighted. Now for God’s sake, let me kiss you properly.”

Phoebe ran her fingers through his hair and gave him a teasingly apologetic look. “Yes, Duke.”

Will let out a growl as he pressed her back against the bookcase. Phoebe immediately curled her arms around his neck and heat surged below his waist. Neither of them would be leaving this room until she said that again in earnest.

Will began to drag his lips upward along the curve of her neck, enjoying the way she shivered beneath him.

“You weren’t hoping for a long engagement, were you?” he murmured by her ear.

“Hmm,” she began in mock consideration while her fingers dug into his hair just the way he liked. “I suppose it depends on how convincing you can be.”

Will pulled back to find the glint of friendly challenge in her eye. “Oh, I can be very convincing.”

She leaned in until their noses were touching. “Good. Let’s see.”

Will then took her mouth in a lush, demanding kiss, and set to work doing just that.

The bookshelf proved delightfully sturdier than expected. And even though a few volumes of poetry were sacrificed to the floor in the process, Will felt certain Byron would approve.

“All right, I’m convinced,” Phoebe said afterward rather breathlessly as he collapsed beside her. They had been forced to move to his bed, lest the entire house awaken from the rhythmic thudding of the bookshelf against the wall. Will was absurdly proud he had even managed such a position in the first place, but he wouldn’t attempt it again unless they were truly alone.

He pressed a kiss to Phoebe’s cheek. “Happy to hear it. Now we just need to tell your family.”

Phoebe groaned. “Must we? I’d much rather elope to Gretna Green and tell them afterwards.”

He turned on his side to face her. “Can’t. They make you wait a week now even there.”

Phoebe let out a surprised laugh. “How do you know that?”

“Cal’s been giving me his lurid novels to read while I’m here.”

Her eyes lit with excitement. “Oh! He has the most marvelous taste.”

“And to think they let you shape young minds,” he said with a teasing kiss.

Phoebe let out another laugh. “Those girls would probably never stop reading if I could teach them penny dreadfuls.”

Will stroked her hair. “Perhaps something to think about.”

“Along with everything else,” she added with a sigh.

“There really is no rush, Phoebe. We can find a way. I just want to be with you. Though we might need to be more careful, unless you’re ready to start a family.”

She gave him a shy smile. “Not yet. I’ll talk to Alex about precautions we can take.”

Will blinked. “Oh.”

“It’s one of her pet projects, funding free contraception to women—though Father doesn’t know. Even that may be too eccentric for him,” she added quickly, then turned thoughtful. “I do think I’ve been too hard on her.”

“It seems to be the natural course for indulged younger siblings.”

She gave him a friendly pinch. “But you and Cal get on.”

“We do,” Will acknowledged before revealing their conversation last fall that had spurred his decision to bride hunt. “I suppose I can’t be too cross with him though,” he said as he pulled Phoebe into his arms once more, “since it led to this moment, however winding the path may have been.”

“Yes, let us be grateful for our meddlesome siblings, older and younger alike.”

Will chuckled and kissed her nose. “And let us never tell them so, lest they take all the credit.”

“Agreed.” Phoebe then pressed Will onto his back. “Now no more talk of family. I want to try that last thing we did again, but with me on top this time.”

Will clasped his hands behind his head and let out a mock-sigh. “All right. But I must say, you are very demanding.”

Phoebe leaned down until their noses touched. “Oh, you have no idea,” she murmured.

A grin split his face as he pulled her in for a kiss, quite certain he was going to enjoy finding out.