She sighed heavily.
What must the ton think of me?
Birchwood.
The truth was that Phoebe could not truly bring herself to care what any member of thetonthought. Unlike the man sitting soclose to her she could smell the remnants of his pungent shaving soap, she hoped that no one looked up and saw them sitting in the box together.
No one… except for the Duke of Talwyn.
Since she had left the Duchess of Whitestone’s musicale, Phoebe had found it difficult to concentrate. When she was by herself, she recalled the sound of the Duke’s singing voice and nearly fell into a swoon.
When she encountered him days later at Lord Birchwood’s dinner party, it had taken a great deal of strength to remain in her seat and not lunge forward every time the Duke opened his mouth to speak to someone sitting nearby. She had longed to hear his voice again.
At one point, their eyes had met during the dinner and Phoebe had to school herself so that she might remain seated and not stand and beg him to sing for his supper.
If the Duke is here tonight…
She leaned forward in her seat and sought to catch a glimpse of the other members of the peerage in the box to the right but stopped herself short.
She could not afford to let her thoughts linger on the Duke of Talwyn, not when she sat next to her awful betrothed.
“You are happy?” Lord Birchwood asked, chuckling. “Then smile for me, Lady Phoebe. Let me seesomejoy on your face, for I am tired of seeing it so sullen.”
And I am tired of seeing you altogether.Phoebe wished to mutter this in return, but she remembered that her mother was in the box to the left of theirs, and she could not say anything untoward, no matter how much she wanted to.
Forcibly, she lifted her mouth into a smile that ached, but Lord Birchwood hummed at her. He grasped her chin roughly, yanking her face up. Phoebe inhaled in fear, her eyes widening, but that only seemed to please the Marquess further.
“Good,” he drawled. “Keep that smile on your face whenever I look at you.”
Her stomach curdled horribly, and she tugged her chin out of his grasp. When she turned her attention back to the auditorium, her eyes snagged on one familiar face.
Her heart kicked into a faster beat as she found the Duke of Talwyn’s eyes already fixed on her from where he sat in his own private box, directly opposite. He must have only recently arrived, for she swore he had not been there earlier.
Now he was, and his green eyes fixed on her from afar.
His sultry gaze pinned her in a far different way than Lord Birchwood’s hand on her wrist did.
Her breath thinned as she did not take her own gaze off the Duke. With the distance creating a chasm between them, she indulged herself by staring at him openly.
No one would know that their eyes had locked or that she had been intent on seeing him this evening. Not a soul would realize that beneath Phoebe’s calm exterior there beat within a heart that was moved by the mere memory of the Duke’s softly spoken words and sweetly sung melodies.
She dared to get lost in his eyes and stayed in that pose for much longer than propriety allowed.
But who can stop us?
Like this, it almost felt like being back at Lord Spencer’s party, hidden and separated, yet strangely bared. She had missed that feeling and didn’t realize how much she wanted to be his Thisbe once again. The lady she had been that night, the one in the shocking red dress, and the fox mask had been almost entirely free.
No one at Lord Spencer’s Masquerade knew the timid lady who followed the crowd down the hall before stopping in the last room was really the third daughter of the Earl of Tripleton. No one suspected what she and the Duke, the serpent, had discussed behind those closed doors.
The anonymity of the low opera theatre’s lighting made her feel as though shewasmasked again.
She felt as if, within the shadows, waiting for the opera to start; she was discreet, concealed, and was at liberty to share her own private moment with the Duke of Talwyn.
“Be happy, Lady Phoebe,” Lord Birchwood murmured from her side. “Be. Happy.We are seen, do not forget.”
Phoebe had allowed herself to entirely forget that the Marquess was still by her side. When he spoke, she shimmied away from him, moving as far in her seat as she could manage with his hand still poised possessively on her forearm.
“What?” she snapped, slightly annoyed at how he had interjected on the moment she’d been sharing with the Duke.
