“Then you should.” The Duke’s eyes cut to Phoebe, his grin turning challenging and mischievous.“We ought to have some fun tonight.”
“I also cannot,” Phoebe laughed nervously. “You know it would be impolite for the pair of us to address His Grace so informally.” Her upper lip curved slightly, indicating her own amusement. “You will get us into trouble, Your Grace.”
“With Percy?” he snorted. “Heavens, that man needs a startle now and then. His life used to besoexciting before he married Verity. Now I must find small ways to surprise him. Please do this for me, one of you, will you?”
“Used to be?” Genevieve leaned in, sniffing gossip.
As for Phoebe, she was too busy noticing how the Duke of Talwyn’s cravat contrasted with his hair color handsomely, and how she wished to brush her fingers over the velvet, to see if it was as soft as it looked.
“Oh, yes. You are an inquisitive one, Lady Genevieve. First, you seek to know my secrets. Now, you pry into Percy’s affairs.” The Duke shook his head, chuckling again. “I am afraid, I cannot give you stories, but Percy, Vincent and I used to lead rather exhilarating lives. Before he met his wife that is.”
“And yours no longer is?” The question flew from Phoebe’s lips before she could hold it back.
She was not normally one to be nosey, but when this man with his sultry voice was nearby, she kept asking questions just for the sake of hearing him answer.
She blinked at herself, lifting her hand halfway to cover her mouth, as if she could take back the question.
The Duke cocked his head toward her. “You certainly are eager to learn more about my past, Lady Phoebe. What have I done to bring on such an inquisition?”
“No,” she said quickly. “I mean nothing. Forgive me.”
He did not look convinced, and the line shuffled as Phoebe fought her own shame of being outspoken.
Who am I to question a Duke?
His gaze lingered on her for several moments. She knew he was staring at her, even though she couldn’t quite meet his eye.
“There is nothing to forgive, Lady Phoebe. Though, I imagineyourlife is rather exciting. You have events to attend. Secrets to share. And let us not forget, you have a wedding to plan.”
Phoebe laughed humorlessly, shaking her head. “You are mistaken, Your Grace. My socializing mercifully narrows down to Lady Genevieve here. She alone takes pity on me and drags me out to events such as these.”
Phoebe reached over and patted Genevieve’s arm.
“I take no pity on her, Your Grace,” Genevieve piped up. “Phoebe receives enough invitations of her own. And she might even be tempted to accept some of them, too, if my dreadful aunt and uncle did not keep her locked away all the time.”
“Genevieve!” Phoebe exclaimed while shooting an exasperated look at her cousin.
“What?” Genevieve returned, matching Phoebe’s stare with a vexed look of her own. “You know I am only speaking the truth. Your parents are forcing you to marry that dowdy, repugnant Birchwood, so we cannot even find joy in planning your impending wedding ceremony.”
Phoebe huffed in disappointment. She could not disagree with a single word Genevieve had just said; however, she would have appreciated it if her cousin had not got carried away and rattled off all her complaints right in front of the Duke of Talwyn.
“Genevieve, you know that my situation is… decided,” Phoebe said through gritted teeth. “I am grateful to receive invitations to balls and other events, but I cannot always accept the offers. It would be improper for me, an engaged lady, to step out and make a spectacle of myself.”
“Grateful?” The Duke frowned. “Surely, a lady would have enjoyed the attention prior to her… engagement.” Something sharp entered his voice when he acknowledged that.
“It is no matter,” she answered quickly, and, thankfully, she realized that she was next to greet the Duke and Duchess of Whitestone.
Verity’s voice had been ringing through the entrance hall the entire time, musical and light, while the Duke’s voice had scarcely joined the echoes.
“I must... we must greet our hosts,” Phoebe said.
“Indeed.” The Duke of Talwyn gave her a strange smile she could not understand. “Then I am certain I shall see you sometime through the evening, then. Enjoy the musicale, Lady Phoebe. Lady Genevieve.”
As the pair of friends stepped forward, Phoebe could feel the Duke hovering there, right behind them. He was quiet and she could once again feel his stare boring into her. Phoebe realized he was waiting to see how she would greet the Duke, and her nerves swam in her stomach.
Once she came to the front of the greeting line, she curtsied deeply.
“Lady Genevieve!” Verity cried happily. “You came! And you brought Lady Phoebe along, as I requested.”
