Phoebe lowered her lashes dutifully, smiling softly. “Verity.”
She inclined her head, hoping it overrode the disrespect she felt by greeting her so informally, but Verity’s beaming smile told her she need not worry.
“You remembered,” Verity laughed. “And yet I used your own title.”
“At least ours contain our names,” Genevieve giggled.
“Indeed, it does,” Verity answered. “And, once again, this is my husband.”
“It is an honor to be in your beautiful home, Percy,” Phoebe said, her voice shaking as she spoke his name.
From behind her, there was a snigger and Phoebe just knew that the Duke of Talwyn was enjoying this scene tremendously.
Phoebe watched, wide-eyed, as Percy, the Duke of Whitestone, composed himself. It was clear that he was startled, just as the Duke of Talwyn had predicted and promised he would be, but then the surprise softened into contentment.
“You are most welcome,Phoebe,” he countered, a smirk dancing on his mouth.
Verity giggled next to him, wrapping an arm around his waist. “I do believe I saw Sebastian speaking with our friends here while they waited in line to be greeted,” she said. “Perhaps you ought to speak to him about his little arrangements with ladies who might be persuaded into pranking you.”
“Indeed, I will,” he laughed. “Nonetheless, welcome to our home, Lady Phoebe, Lady Genevieve.”
They both curtsied once more in gratitude.
“It really is a stunning home,” Genevieve gushed as they stepped nearer to the Duchess. “I have heard, though, that you do not spend a great deal of time here?”
“We do not,” Verity huffed indignantly. “But if I could, I would spend every single day here. However, Percy prefers the bustle of the city. Old habits die hard, I suppose.”
She did not elaborate, but Phoebe detected this was yet another hint about the life the Duke of Whitestone had once had.
What unpleasant habits did he and the Duke of Talwyn share?
Phoebe’s curiosity was piqued, but she held her tongue.
“Either way, I am certain both of your homes are lovely,” Genevieve said. “Wherever you base yourselves.”
Verity grinned brightly. “Thank you. I hope you enjoy our musical evening.”
For a moment, Phoebe worried she had said or done something wrong to be clearly dismissed, but then she remembered how long the line was behind her.
As she turned to glance at the long line, the Duke of Talwyn moved forward. He grasped Verity’s hands first and smiled sweetly at her.
“It is always a pleasure to see you,” he whispered before lowering his head and planting a soft kiss on each of Her Grace’s gloved hands. Then, the Duke clapped a hand on his friend’s shoulder and added, “You are looking quite becoming in that coat, Percy. Who is your tailor?”
Phoebe and Genevieve took their leave, but right as they headed towards the music room, the Duke of Talwyn fell into step alongside them. He squeezed his way between the two ladies and offered each one his elbow to clutch.
“So, how did it go?” he teased.
“I am certain you know exactly how it went,” Phoebe replied, giving him a shy half-smile as she looked up. He looked entirely too smug as he strolled next to her. “He was surprised for a moment but then countered with my own lack of title.”
The Duke chuckled under his breath as Phoebe wound her fingers around his elbow and allowed him to tow her further into the room.
“Of course he did.” Phoebe only gave a huff of laughter, aware of Geneieve trying not to look at them obviously. “So, what performers are you most looking forward to seeing tonight?”
“I…” Phoebe blushed, unable to admit that she had not actually viewed the line-up, even though Genevieve had provided a copy of the embossed, elegant leaflet along with her invitation.
“I do hope you have come to see me,” the Duke of Talwyn said with a wink.
“Wha—” she began asking.
