“We can get a special license and see it done at once.” Alex reached for Lord Chesterfield’s hands and pulled them from Alex’s jacket. “It is the best we can hope for.”
“Absolutely not!” Lady Chesterfield strolled into the parlor, her back straight and shoulders squared. “I will not hear of it.”
Taken aback by her declaration, Graham stared at her, slack jawed. Did she mean to stop the nuptials from happening? Could she be his savior in this catastrophe? He glanced at the other men in the parlor.
Lord Chesterfield’s eyes bore into his wife, his clenched jaw and rigid posture conveying his seething anger. “You would see her ruined?” he spat out through gritted teeth.
Lady Chesterfield’s satin gloves rustled as she reached out and pointed a jeweled finger toward her daughter. “I demand that my daughter be married with all the proper pomp and circumstance,” she declared with a determined tone in her voice. “She will not be married in haste.” She came to stand directly in front of her husband, determination etching fine lines on her face. “The bans will be read, there will be announcements, and there most certainly will be parties.” She trailed her gaze from Lord Chesterfield to Graham, then back. “I will not be denied, and neither will Phoebe.”
The anger emanating from Lord Chesterfield seemed to fade as he nodded. “Of course, dearest.”
Much to Graham’s amazement, he felt a measure of relief when Lady Chesterfield did not object to his wedding Phoebe. The damn selfish fool he was wanted her. Still, Graham would eventually have to let her go. He had to find a way out of this—one that left Phoebe’s reputation intact. But for now, he had no choice other than to play along, and devil take it, he was looking forward to it.
“Then all is settled,” Lady Chesterfield said, before she wound her hand around Lord Chesterfield’s arm. “Let us go share the news with Phoebe.”
Once they were gone, Graham drained the contents of his tumbler, then set the glass on the sideboard and turned to leave. He needed some time to think—to determine his course.
Perhaps a ride across the countryside would help him see the situation with more clarity. Then he could form a plan to undo the damage he’d caused. He strode toward the door, determined to do just that.
“Wait,” Alex called after him.
Graham turned back. “Yes?”
Alex narrowed his gaze at Graham. “Do not do anything foolish, cousin,” he warned.
Graham gave a firm nod, then pivoted back toward the door, and strode through it, tossing his words over his shoulder. “I already did.”
He found irony in the truth of his statement. He’d made a colossal error, and now there was a real possibility he’d pay dearly for it.
Why the hell hadn’t he stayed clear of the chit? He had known she was trouble. Had known he was attracted to her beyond measure. He should have bloody well stayed away from her.
Still, he had to take responsibility for his actions. As much as he’d like to, he could not blame Phoebe. Nor would he saddle her with his past. One thing was perfectly clear in this whole situation: she was innocent. This—all of this—was his doing. And Heaven help him, he would undo it.
Until then, he would do as he must. Follow the rules of society and execute his role as Phoebe’s betrothed.
Ten
Not knowing what was happening at Almerry was driving Phoebe half-mad. She paced back and forth across her room, her mind racing. Perhaps she should find out. After all, it was her life being decided. She deserved to hear what was being said. Deserved her say in the matter.
She paused by her bedchamber door and reached for the handle, then changed her mind. It would serve no purpose to anger Father more than she already had. And what of Graham? Did he wish to see her? Was he angry at her? It was all her fault for being such a ninny over the storm. She knew what would happen if anyone discovered them and yet...
She would not regret a second of it, no matter the outcome. Phoebe paced back to the window and dropped into her armchair. Her only concern was Graham. She hoped he did not detest her now.
She nibbled at the inside of her cheek as her mind reeled.
What did she care about how Graham felt? He was as much at fault as she was. Maybe more. He should have been a gentleman. The rogue knew the consequences as well as she did. He could have tucked her safely in the cottage and remained outside or went for a carriage.
Still, she should not have allowed him such liberties. She sighed, dropping her head into her hands. What a dratted mess she had made.
Hell’s bells. She could take no more of this fretting. Phoebe sprang from the chair and marched toward her door. But before she could reach it, the door flung open. Mother and Father strolled into her room.
“Sit,” Father commanded, a stern set to his jaw.
Phoebe bit her lower lip as she dropped onto her mattress.
Mother came to sit beside her and took one of her hands. Phoebe’s heart raced as she glanced between them. Her stomach knotted. She had to say something. Do something.
Phoebe met Mother’s gaze, then said, “Nothing happened, mama. Nothing ruinous at any rate. I swear it.”
