Twenty

O nce Maude left, Phoebe decided to head over to the police station as it wasn’t too far. When she entered Detective Inspector Holland’s office, the man looked even grumpier than usual.

“Ah, Miss Atkinson,” he said, barely looking up from the file in front of him. “Have you come to scold me as well?”

“Beg pardon?” Phoebe asked as she took the seat he gestured to.

“You’ve just missed the duke reading me the riot act.”

“I don’t understand.”

He smacked the file down and crossed his arms before fixing her with a formidable glare. “It seems that someone earned a very handsome sum for discussing your arrest with Lord Fairbanks—and he assumed that someone was me .”

Phoebe’s stomach clenched. It was distressing to think of the earl knowing anything about her, especially her connection to Will. But why had he sought out such information in the first place? Was Fairbanks sour over Will’s rejection of his daughter and looking for a way to force his hand? Given what Maude had told her about the earl, he would stop at nothing to get what he wanted and use any means available.

The inspector loudly cleared his throat and Phoebe snapped to attention.

“I’m very sorry, Inspector,” she said with genuine remorse even while the worries compounded in her mind.

He softened ever so slightly at her apology. “No matter. I set the duke straight,” he grumbled. “And made it clear that I would uncover the leak. But in the meantime, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be here.”

Phoebe nodded. “I only came to thank you. I’ve just spoken with Maude, and I’m sorry I caused such a bother over Alice.”

There was a slight twinkle in the man’s deep blue eyes. “Not necessary,” he said. “You were rightly worried about her. I’m only sorry I couldn’t say more, but I had made a promise to her sister.”

“Understood.”

“Now, as much as I enjoy our little chats, I suggest you head out through the rear entrance before anyone else sees you.”

Phoebe stood and headed for the door. Then she turned back. “Was the duke really cross?”

Inspector Holland glanced up from the file in his hands and lifted an eyebrow. “Absolutely livid.”

As Phoebe returned home, the uneasy feeling lingered though she was fairly confident the earl couldn’t know the full truth about her dalliance with Will. But perhaps he had learned enough to hurt his marriage prospects. As much as she didn’t like the idea of Will marrying some fresh-faced debutante, she didn’t want to be responsible for any difficulties either.

Phoebe was so lost in thought as she entered the flat that she barely noticed Marion until she was standing right before her with an odd look on her face.

“Where have you been?” But before Phoebe could respond, she tugged her aside. “That man is here,” she whispered. “The duke.”

“What?” Phoebe craned her neck but there was no sign of Will.

“He showed up an hour ago and insisted on waiting until you came back.” Marion rolled her eyes. “Then I thought he was going to put a hole in the floor with his pacing, so I finally told him to go in your room or else wait on the street.”

Despite the nerves fluttering inside her, Phoebe couldn’t help smiling at the thought of Marion banishing Will from her presence. “I see.”

Most women might look at least a little chagrinned at chastising a duke, but not Marion. “Do you know why he’s here?”

Phoebe let out a sigh. “There’s been a… a misunderstanding of sorts.” She didn’t know what else to call it. “I’ll speak to him.”

Her friend’s gaze turned wary. “Should I leave?”

“Not unless you want to. I don’t think this will take long,” she murmured.

“Is everything all right?” Marion asked gently.

Phoebe shook her head. “Not really. But it will be.”

I hope.

Marion gave her a comforting pat and left Phoebe to her task. Will was still pacing in the tiny space between her bed and wardrobe. His hands were clasped tightly behind his back and his head was bent down, as if he was deep in thought. She had never seen him look so agitated. Not even when he showed up at Bow Street. Her chest ached at the memory. How much had changed between them since that afternoon. How much everything had changed. Phoebe took a steadying breath but her racing heart would not heel. She had effectively lost all control the moment he entered Inspector Holland’s office. She was a fool to have ever thought otherwise.

And you won’t get it back this time.

As soon as Phoebe stepped into the room, his head immediately snapped up and he halted.

“Where the hell have you been?” His scowl nailed her to the spot, but it could not hide the worry in his eyes.

Phoebe closed the door behind her. “I met with Maude,” she said calmly.

This appeared to only irritate him further. “Phoebe, you need to stay away from her—”

“She’s Alice’s sister.”

That caught him by surprise as his scowl softened, but only for a moment. “Then where is she?”

“Maude sent her away to keep her safe from Fairbanks,” Phoebe explained.

“You can’t just take her at her word,” Will countered. “A woman like that is used to manipulating people.”

“Perhaps, but Inspector Holland vouched for her. He’s known everything from the beginning.”

Will’s dark gaze flashed. “You’ve seen Holland?”

“Right after you, apparently.”

He exhaled. “Then you know why I’m here.” At Phoebe’s nod, he put his hands on his hips. “Obviously this isn’t an ideal situation,” Will continued. “But I’ve gone through every alternative and I think it’s best if we see your father directly. I should be able to put a notice in the papers for the end of the week. Do you have a preference for the church? Personally, I’m not keen on a large society affair, but if we had it at St. George’s that may effectively silence the rumors that will no doubt spread once the engagement announcement is printed.”

Phoebe blinked. “Are you talking about… a wedding?”

“Yes,” Will said impatiently. “Ours.”

Phoebe didn’t consider herself a particularly romantic person, but goodness, he hadn’t even asked her. “Oh,” she managed to say. Her lips suddenly felt numb.

Will crossed his arms. “Did the inspector not inform you that Fairbanks learned of your arrest?”

Lord, how she hated the return of this aloof, condescending manner of his. Phoebe mirrored his stance. “No, he did.”

Will raised a haughty eyebrow. “Well, you seem awfully unconcerned for a girl on the verge of public ruination.”

Phoebe nearly reared back. A girl? He was acting as if she was some simpleminded child.

Or just Alex’s annoying little sister.

Her jaw tightened at the ugly thought and the all too familiar feelings that accompanied it. “And yet I don’t recall you objecting when the ruination was private,” she shot back and was pleased to see him wince a little. “I am not unconcerned. I just never considered marriage to you as the solution,” she answered honestly.

His eyes narrowed. “Neither did I,” he bit off.

Phoebe swallowed around the lump forming in her throat. She already suspected as much, but hearing him say it aloud, and with such derision, was undeniably painful. And to think, only hours ago she had actually dared to consider that he might want to marry her.

“But the man is threatening to name you as my mistress and this is the quickest and surest way to protect you,” Will continued. “There will still be gossip since you’re such an unconventional choice for my duchess, but it will fade in time.”

Her heart sank further. My duchess. He made it sound like she would simply be another possession: my carriage, my house, my dog. She would be stripped of all individuality. Her purpose reduced to the begetting of heirs and accompanying him to society functions. As much as a part of her wanted Will—desperately so—she could never agree to become his wife under such circumstances. Her own sense of honor simply wouldn’t allow it. She wasn’t some inconvenient little mess that needed cleaning up. Instead of treating her as an equal, as someone he respected , he thought he could dictate her future all in the name of salvation and she would just accept it.

To hell with that.

Her hands tightened into fists. “No.”

Will frowned. “No, what?”

His exasperated confusion only strengthened her resolve. The man really was an ass . “No, I will not marry you,” she said slowly. “I told you I had no interest in marriage.”

“Yes, I know,” he huffed. “But that was before—”

“Well, my mind hasn’t changed.” If he was going to be condescending, then by God, so would she.

He shot her an imperious glare worthy of his title. “You’re being very stubborn, Phoebe.”

She waved a hand dismissively. “I’m sure you will have no trouble finding someone else to be your duchess .”

“That is not what this is about and you know it,” he growled.

She lifted her chin. “Did you really expect me to be grateful that you’re willing to lower yourself to marry me?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You readily admitted that I’m an inappropriate choice—”

“I didn’t say that either—”

“ And that a union between us will cause rampant speculation,” Phoebe insisted as her simmering anger now bubbled over.

“Do you expect me to ignore the obvious?” he snapped as he took a step closer. “No, Phoebe. The circumstances are not ideal here. In case you’ve forgotten, I am a bloody duke . And dukes are expected to marry a certain kind of lady. While I admire the life you have made for yourself, we both know you are not exactly duchess material and I will not insult your intelligence by pretending otherwise.”

Phoebe flinched as his words tore open an old wound. The one that marked her as different. As not up to snuff in the eyes of society. For she had never been considered elegant or well-mannered enough. At least, not when well-mannered meant smiling at every stupid or offensive remark a gentleman made. No, Will may have played at being an outsider these last few weeks, but in the end he was just as concerned with status as the rest of them. Whatever small kernel of affection she had been holding on to was ground to dust under the heel of his freshly polished shoe.

“And given that you are a duke, I’m sure you are not used to being rejected. 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,” she added tartly. “And even if word about us does get out, I have a far simpler solution: you can simply deny it. Call it a ridiculous rumor, and all the people whose opinions you care about so very much will believe it was a mistake because they want to. Because no one wants to see a duke marry someone so unconventional ,” she practically spat out the word. “You should go propose to Lady Gwen while you still have the chance. I suspect Lord Fairbanks will be less inclined to spread rumors about his son-in-law. Perhaps you can also discuss your upcoming bill with him.”

Will pulled a hand roughly through his hair, disturbing the perfect locks. “That you would think I would have anything to do with that swine after all we’ve learned.”

He looked desperate and frustrated and, somehow, even more handsome. Phoebe needed to get him out of here before she lost her conviction entirely.

“But surely even you would not hold his crimes against his daughter.”

“Of course not,” he said, appalled by the suggestion.

“Then it is settled,” she replied, trying to appear calm and sensible while inside her stomach churned with nerves. “You will have your ideal duchess and the state of my reputation won’t be on your conscience anymore.”

Will opened his mouth but then stopped himself. “I’m going to leave before I say something I regret.”

Phoebe could only laugh that he didn’t think this conversation qualified as something to regret.

“This has all come as a shock to you, I’m sure,” he added. “I will give you the rest of the day to think this over.”

“You can, but my answer won’t change,” Phoebe said loftily.

Will’s jaw hardened as his dark eyes bore into her own. “Is that so?” Phoebe nodded, but it was weak. Distracted. He took a step toward her. Then another. “And you are certain there is nothing left between us?” he murmured as his gaze dipped to her mouth. “Nothing else worth… exploring?”

Phoebe inhaled sharply before she could catch herself. His nostrils flared as his gaze returned to hers and that blasted heat swiftly raged to life between them. He leaned toward her then and Phoebe’s traitorous heart stuttered as she breathed in his familiar scent of shaving soap.

She hated just how much she longed to feel the press of his firm, commanding mouth on hers. How easy it would be to fall back into bed with him and hope things would somehow magically sort themselves out. In another moment he would gather her in his arms and even though she had rejected his offer of marriage, she didn’t trust herself to resist the offer of his body quite so easily. But while she had no doubt it would be a highly enjoyable diversion, in the end nothing would change. And it would only make their inevitable parting that much harder.

“Y-yes,” she rasped, forcing the word past her lips, and took a stumbling step back. “I am,” she added, a little more firmly now. “We’re done here.”

Will slowly straightened as a light faded from his eyes. One she hadn’t noticed until it was gone.

Wait.

“I see.” He blinked and that bored look of aristocratic indifference returned. She hadn’t seen it for weeks. Not since he stepped into the inspector’s office and turned her decent little life upside down.

Come back.

He tugged on his cuffs and then reached for her. Phoebe’s eyes fluttered and for one ridiculous moment she thought he might caress her cheek in goodbye. But just as his beguiling scent filled her nose once again, he retrieved the hat from the top of the chest of drawers beside her.

“Then I won’t make the mistake of repeating such an objectionable proposition to you ever again.” He gave a short bow and placed his hat on his head. “Good day.”

Phoebe stood there dumbly for a moment until she moved out of his way. He brushed past her without another word. She heard him murmur a goodbye to Marion before firmly shutting the front door behind him. Phoebe stood frozen in place, unaware of how much time had passed, until Marion appeared in the doorway with a look of concern on her face.

“Did you just reject a proposal of marriage? From a duke?”

The question broke through Phoebe’s daze and she lifted her chin, trying to muster her outrage once more. “It sounded more like an order to me.”

Marion let out a laugh of disbelief. “Well, he wasn’t spouting poetry, I’ll give you that, but Phoebe, my God. You could have been a duchess .”

We both know you are not exactly duchess material.

Phoebe turned away as her eyes began to prickle. “He would have regretted it.”

And she couldn’t bear to watch his disappointment grow once he realized his mistake. Perhaps her reputation would suffer, but he would see in time that she had saved them both. Her heart, however, was another matter.

Marion placed a hand on her shoulder. “Are you sure about that?”

The gentle question was like a lance through her chest, melting whatever numbness still remained. “No,” she said miserably as a hot tear slipped down her cheek. “No, I’m not.”