Her trembling lips opened and closed as she struggled to find the right words. “You are pretending not to care for me because you think it is the honorable thing to do,” she finally blurted out, her voice quivering. She stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on his thigh as her eyes pleaded with him. “But I do not need your chivalry, Graham. I want us to face our future together.” She gave a shaky grin. “I said, I love you. I do not care what you did before. I admire you for caring for your son, and I want to stand beside you. I will marry you, and I will love you. There is nothing you can say to change my heart.”
“Don’t—”
“Don’t what?” Phoebe cut him off. “Tell you the truth?” She pressed closer. “I fear I cannot stop myself. I have fallen in love with you. You are important to me, and even though we did not choose each other, I have no regrets.”
“You say that now, but if you marry me, you will soon come to change your mind.” He glared at her, his eyes as cold as winter’s frost. “Do us all a favor and do not come to the altar.”
She stiffened, a mixture of indignation and hurt clouding her gaze. Phoebe nodded, then took a few steps toward the house. She turned back to shoot him a disdainful look. “Careful, I just might give you what you wish for.”
Seventeen
“We have come to lend our support,” Daphne said as she strolled into the yellow parlor.
Rebecca took the seat beside Phoebe. “Mother says you have not been yourself these past few days. And one could not help but notice Graham acting odd as well.”
Phoebe flicked her fan closed and dropped it on her lap. “The duke is an ass.”
Daphne stared at Phoebe, one brow arched.
“What has Graham done?” Rebecca slid a touch closer to her sister, her gaze curious. “Tell us.”
Phoebe pursed her lips as she contemplated what to say. She was far too embarrassed to share all the details, even with her sisters. She sighed, then said, “If you must know, he does not wish to marry me.”
“Nonsense,” Rebecca said. “He has been courting you and attended the engagement ball. He even sat beside you as the banns were read. Three Sundays in a row, I might add. Surely, he would not do so if he objected.”
“I assure you, he does object.” Phoebe squared her shoulders, refusing to allow her emotions any quarter. “He has demanded that I not show up for the wedding.”
“Why ever would he do that?” Daphne asked. “It is plain to see he cares for you.”
“He is afraid,” Phoebe said as she reached for a teacup. “He claims he does not want his reputation to ruin my future. When I told him that was rubbish, he argued with me and told me about his son. A bastard that he would not burden me with. As if I am so callous as to begrudge a child. Graham has no care for what I want.”
“Jeremy is a delightful boy.” Daphne gave a dazzling smile. “Graham treats him as any proud father would. We should have told you of the child, but did not think it was our secret to share.”
“Well, he thinks me incapable of doing the same. A pity, truly, for I was rather looking forward to meeting the lad.” Phoebe waved a dismissive hand. “I have half a mind to beg off.”
Rebecca sucked in a surprised breath. “You cannot. Father will disown you,” she said.
“I may find banishment preferable to becoming that scoundrel’s wife.” Phoebe did not mean the words, but she was so angry at Graham, she could not stop her tongue from running wild. The way he had treated her—tossed her love back in her face and acted as if she were not capable of making her own decisions. The nerve of the man!
“You do not mean that,” Rebecca said.
“Part of me does.” Phoebe shook her head and balled her hands. “I am just so angry. At him and myself.”
Rebecca took Phoebe’s chin between her thumb and forefinger, then stared into her sisters’ eyes. “My God, you love him.”
Phoebe jerked free. “Stupid fool I am,” she said. “And I fear I will pay a great price for it, too.”
“You must not say such things.” Daphne waited for Phoebe to look at her. “Love is a wonderful thing.”
“Not when the sentiment goes unreturned.” Phoebe fought the surge of tears.
“Oh, but you are wrong.” Rebecca grabbed her hand, folding her fingers around it. “He loves you.”
Phoebe laughed and shook her head. “I would be a bigger cake to believe that.”
“But it’s true,” Rebecca argued. “He is simply too foolish to recognize it. Why he has been surly and moping about the castle for days.”
“It is true.” Daphne leaned forward. “And why else would he worry about your happiness?” she asked.
