Before Graham could argue further, the shuffle of slipper-clad feet and the swish of skirts invaded the hall. Rebecca marched toward him, her eyes narrowed and angry. An equally disgruntled Daphne flanked her side.
Rebecca poked her finger into Graham’s chest and glared at him. “How dare you!”
Daphne shook her head. “I thought we knew you.”
“You do not deserve her. My sweet sister. How could you treat her as you have?” Rebecca held his gaze, demanding an answer.
“I am trying to protect her,” Graham said, his heart beating faster than it had a moment before.
“Of all the?—”
“From what? Love?” Daphne cut Rebecca off with her own tirade.
Camden rounded the table and wrapped his arm around Rebecca’s shoulders. “Does Phoebe love him?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” Rebecca said.
Daphne took the tumbler from Graham’s hand. “And he loves her, too. He’s just too stubborn to accept it.” She glared at him with disapproval. “Sober up, Your Grace. You have an apology to issue and a wedding to attend. I suggest you do them in that order.”
“You cannot deny love. Once it takes hold, it will not let go. You are a fool for trying. All you are doing is breaking her heart,” Rebecca added.
Alex chuckled. “I believe you should pay mind to my wife’s advice,” he said.
Graham’s head spun. The ladies’ words wrapped around him, squeezing the air from his lungs. He loved Phoebe.
Bloody hell, that’s why he had been trying so hard to dissuade her. He was in love with her.
The chair he’d been sitting in scraped across the floor before teetering backward as he sprang to his feet. “Enough! I’ll hear no more.”
“What are you doing?” Camden demanded.
Graham turned toward the door. “I am going to bed. After all, tomorrow is my wedding day.”
Eighteen
Phoebe scowled at her reflection in the looking glass as her maid worked to pin up her hair. Try as she might, she could not keep her traitorous heart from soaring at the fact that today was her wedding day. Her mind knew better, but her heart had gone rogue. For all she knew, Graham would not be waiting for her at the altar, and if he were, it would not be with joy.
The scoundrel did not want her. He had only carried through with the engagement because both of their families demanded it of him. Now that the day had arrived, he may well disappear.
Could she blame him if he did?
After all, he had not chosen her. It had not even been his fault that they wound up alone in that cabin. But he certainly was to blame for what followed.
She shook her head, paying no attention to her maid, who was presently pinning a curl into place. None of it signified. They had done what they’d done, and now they were doing what they must.
Leastwise, she was. If he failed to do his part now…well, she only hoped her heart would recover.
The door squeaked open, and Phoebe turned to see who was entering her chamber. Her heart ceased to beat as Graham strode into the room. She sucked in a breath and rose to her feet. “You cannot be in here.”
He ignored her as he turned his attention to the maid. “I require a moment alone with my bride.”
“Indeed, Your Grace.” The woman scurried from the room, closing the door behind her.
Phoebe would see the traitor scolded for abandoning her. She straightened her back and glared at Graham. “If you have come with demands for me to abandon the ceremony, you can leave at once.” She pointed to the door.
“Stop fretting.” He strolled closer, then placed his hands on her shoulders.
The heat that seeped into her was almost too much. Her bottom lip quivered as she fought to suppress her emotions. She could not abide him saying another hurtful word to her. She would no doubt be reduced to a simpering puddle if he dared, for it had taken all of her will to make it this far without crumbling.
