Graham gave her the coldest look he could summon. “That is right. My bastard son lives with me. What’s more, I have given him my name.”
Phoebe stared blankly across the room for several heartbeats before coming to her feet. She went to Graham and placed her hands on his arms. “I care not what you have done in the past.”
“You cannot be serious.” Graham fought the urge to shake her. “You would force yourself to endure social scorn? All the while raising my bastard? Think about what you are saying, woman!”
She flinched, but held firm to his arms and her convictions. “I shall be honored to stand beside you and be a mother to your son.”
Fifteen
Phoebe glared across the room at Graham, who presently laughed and winked at the young widow beside him. He had spent the entire evening flirting and dancing with other women while altogether ignoring her. She could guess at his motivation, and while it burned her clear through her corset, she would not allow his game to dissuade her. Nor would she remain here to suffer any further humiliation.
She shot a glare in his direction, then turned and strolled across the candlelit room to where her cousin, Howard, stood. “I know you have just arrived, but I have a favor to ask of you.” Phoebe nibbled at her lip.
She would have asked Rebecca, Camden, or Mother to take her home, but they had all departed directly after supper.
Oh, why hadn’t she gone with them? Phoebe seethed to herself. Her own stubborn nature had kept her here, and she well knew it.
Fool that she was, she had undeniably fallen in love with Graham. She had remained out of hope and jealousy to watch him and see what might transpire. All the while she had been harboring hope that he would return his attentions to her.
Howard studied her through narrowed eyes. “It seems that something is amiss. Are you all right?”
“I will be.” Phoebe forced a smile and pretended nonchalance. “If only you could take me home.” She touched a hand to her temple. “I fear a headache is coming on.”
“Of course.” Howard offered his arm. “Let us leave at once.”
Phoebe took his elbow, then fairly dragged her cousin from the room. Her gaze caught Graham’s as they reached the door, and she smirked at the scowl creasing his face.
Good, let him feel some measure of the irritation she had been battling all evening. She pulled her gaze from Graham’s and strode from the room.
Phoebe remained quiet during the ride home, only speaking to thank Howard upon their arrival at her house. Not in the mood to retire for the evening, she waited for his carriage to pull away, then stepped back outside.
She settled onto the rough, uneven stone step of her porch and tilted her head back to take in the crisp night air. As her thoughts drifted to Graham, she imagined him passionately tracing the curves of the widow he had been speaking with earlier or succumbing to temptation with one of the married women at the party they had just attended.
She certainly knew he was capable of such wicked behavior. But in her heart, she could not believe he would betray her in such a way. Not now. Not after how she had come to know him.
Surely, his actions tonight were designed to upset her. A painful attempt at getting her to call off their engagement. Phoebe’s throat tightened at the thought. Strange how a couple of weeks ago, she wanted nothing more than to be rid of him.
Of course, she would not have begged off then, either, but for an entirely different reason. She had always been a dutiful daughter, and though she had not wanted to marry the duke, she would not have gone against her father’s command.
Phoebe would never bring shame to her family—not willingly.
She had told Graham as much. Yet, he still attempted to force her hand. Now that her heart was involved…
“Ugh,” she moaned. All she could do was hold on and hope that Rebecca was right. Pray that once they were married, Graham would lower his walls and let her love him. That he would allow himself to love her.
If so, they could be happy. She believed that deep down in her soul, for how could she not when they shared such passion? And she had seen what kind of man he was. The way he cared for his cousins and protected his son. The way he protected and comforted her. Surely, he held some affection for her.
“Who was that man?” Graham’s voice erupted like a gunshot, jolting her out of her reverie.
She turned to face him, her heart racing as she met his piercing green eyes. “Pardon me?”
He stalked up to her, coming to stand at the base of the steps. His furious gaze leveled on hers. “Who was that man?”
Her heart pounded against her chest, the anger bubbling up as she took in his accusatory tone and sharp gaze. She could not help but snap back in response. “With all the skirt-chasing you were doing, I hardly thought you would notice, let alone care who I left with.”
He leaned in and took hold of her arm. His breath was hot on her cheek as he repeated his question with a dangerous edge to his voice. “I will ask you again. Who is he?”
“My cousin, Mr. Howard Summerville, if you must know.” She smirked with satisfaction as momentary confusion altered his gaze. “Surely you do not obj?—”
