“Indeed,” Sebastian chimed in, and he smiled at Phoebe.
Then, Genevieve leaned in. “And the masquerades?”
“A different matter,” Sebastian said. “They were always more than cover. They are useful socially and politically. I trust others to handle the subtleties of such affairs now.”
Genevieve leaned closer, eyes gleaming. “Oh! You mean I could get involved?”
Sebastian laughed. “Are you hoping to become the next Lord Spencer?”
Genevieve’s eyes twinkled merrily. “Perhaps not Lord Spencer, but Lady Spencer has a lovely ring to it, don’t you think?”
Sebastian gifted her with what Phoebe thought of as his most dashing and disarming smile. “Even if I said no, would that deter you?”
“No,” Genevieve replied with the widest grin.
“I thought so,” Sebastian replied, his tone teasing “But you must prove capable of managing the secrecy… and the charm.”
Phoebe glanced at Sebastian with worry. “Don’t fret, my wife,” he whispered to her, “I’ll have people keep an eye on her.”
With that, Phoebe was soothed.
Vincent, seated nearby, raised a brow at the exchange. “It seems you are encouraging her rather too eagerly,” he said dryly.
Sebastian turned his gaze on Vincent, dark eyes glinting with mischief. “It would seem that way, yes. But I trust that Lady Genevieve knows what she’s about. She will serve as Lady Spencer for a spell, then settle down and marry.”
“I shall drink to that.” Genevieve lifted her glass, saluted the bride and groom, then drank a large gulp of champagne.
Phoebe snuggled closer to Sebastian’s side as he continued to contemplate his friend.
Sebastian murmured, “Dear Vincent, I believe you are the last one left unmarried, aside from the fair Lady Genevieve. Percy and I are both taken. The next tale, it seems, will belong to you.”
Vincent’s jaw tightened slightly. “I’m afraid you’ll have to wait a long time to see that.”
Sebastian smirked. “I thought so about myself, too, and here I am.”
Phoebe felt warmth bloom in her chest at the gentle teasing, her gaze softening as she glanced at Sebastian. Even amidst the chatter and laughter, he remained entirely attentive to her.
As the breakfast concluded and the guests took their leave, Verity leaned forward to press a quick kiss to Phoebe’s temple.
“I am so happy for you both,” she said. “Truly.”
Vincent gave a small bow of acknowledgment to the newlyweds. “I wish you both every happiness. Sebastian, you’ve chosen wisely.”
Sebastian’s hand found Phoebe’s beneath the table. His fingers intertwined with hers.
“We both have,” he said softly, low enough that only she could hear.
Once the last guest departed, the house fell into a comfortable, intimate quiet.
Phoebe turned to Sebastian, her eyes bright with anticipation. “Will you… play and sing for me?” she asked.
Sebastian’s lips curved into a small smile as he led her to the grand piano in the corner of the room. He seated himself, gesturing for her to sit nearby.
When his fingers touched the keys, the room was filled with a rich, melodic warmth. As he sang, Phoebe watched him, awe and pride filling her chest. Each note carried the depth of his soul, the steady cadence of the man who had haunted her dreams and now stood wholly before her.
When the last notes lingered in the air, Phoebe clapped softly, her gaze shining. “You should perform more often,” she murmured, voice thick with admiration.
He leaned toward her, brushing a strand of hair away her face. “Only for you,” he said, voice low, teasing, yet sincere.
