“Avoiding my questions.” Genevieve’s brow wrinkled in consternation. She narrowed her eyes and pierced Phoebe with a speculative stare. “Fidgeting, too. Looking away when you clearly feel uncomfortable. Slipping away and indulging in some sort of fantasies while the rest of us wait for you to return.”
“I do not mean to be impolite,” Phoebe said softly.
“I expect not,” Genevieve replied. “But it is rather difficult to carry on a conversation with you when you take eons to answer questions or simply forget to respond at all.”
Phoebe opened her mouth to reply, to make some sort of apology for her behavior, but she didn’t know precisely what to say. She sincerely had not meant to drift off or drop out of discussions, but when her mind wandered, she tended to follow it from one point to the next.
“See…” Genevieve hissed as she leaned even further across the table. “What are you doing right now? What are you thinking?”
“I cannot say,” Phoebe muttered hurriedly, not wanting to leave her cousin hanging in suspense.
“Ha!” Genevieve laughed brightly. “You cannot say or you will not?” She tapped the tip of her gloved finger on the table between them just inches from Phoebe’s plate of macarons. “I think the cause of your headaches is clear, my friend. Instead ofsharing what’s on your mind and unburdening yourself, you are battling to keep your wits about you.”
Genevieve smiled prettily. “Why don’t you tell me what you are thinking, Phoebe? Perhaps, if you share a bit of what troubles you, I might be able to help.”
“I… I have no troubles,” Phoebe said softly.
Genevieve guffawed so loudly that Phoebe watched the ladies at the next table turn to give her a long, judgmental stare.
“Gen…” Phoebe hissed.
“Phoebe…” Genevieve replied in a far more playful manner.
“You are drawing attention,” Phoebe said quietly. Her jaw clenched tightly as she tried to give the other ladies in the room a polite, yet tense, smile.
“I cannot help myself.” Genevieve sat up straighter and reached for her cup of lemonade. She took a sip then whispered over the rim of the glass, “You are endlessly fascinating to me, dear cousin. Since your return to town, you have been plagued by indecision, poor self-esteem, and those dreadful upcoming nuptials to the odious Lord Birchwood.” She shuddered as if just uttering his name gave her the chills. Genevieve replaced her cup on the table and leaned forward once more. “Of all the people I know, you Phoebe have the most cause to complain. You havetroubles aplenty and it is no wonder that your head aches with the effort of keeping your dismay confined.”
Once again, Phoebe could not disagree with a word her cousin said, but she could reveal the truth.
Slowly, she circled the tip of her finger around the edge of an almond and elderflower flavored macaron, so that she could make her confession without looking Genevieve directly in the eye.
“You are right,” she whispered. “My mind is full of weighty concerns but now, right now, I must tell you that I was focusing on more… pleasant associations.”
“Really?” The tone of Genevieve’s voice indicated that she was intrigued.
“Yes,” Phoebe confirmed. She lifted her gaze and saw that her cousin was leaning forward eagerly, waiting for her to expound.
“What is on your mind, dear cousin of mine?” Genevieve’s eyes sparkled. “Wait! Before you answer, I am going to make an assumption. Have you been thinking of a certain Duke we both know? While he’s been pining away for you, could it be that you have always been dreaming of him?”
Phoebe felt a blush of heat crawl up her neck and cover her face. She was certain that her cheeks blazed crimson. She fought the urge to duck her chin and bury her head in her handsbecause Genevieve beamed at her encouragingly. “Whatever do you mean?”
Genevieve giggled. “The Duke thinks of you often. He asks about you constantly.”
“Have you…” Phoebe paused and considered how best to frame her question. “Have you been talking to the Duke of Talwyn about me?”
Genevieve gave a gentle shake of her head. “No. He has not approached me directly, and I have only seen him when we are together, but I have heard that he has expressed a particular interest in you. He wants to know where you spend your time, what you do during the long afternoon hours, and where you will be in the evenings.”
“Really?” Phoebe was flabbergasted and flattered. She laid both hands on her chest to better settle her heart rate, which had accelerated to a galloping pace. “But if you have not interacted with the Duke yourself, how do you know he is so keen to learn about my affairs?”
Genevieve resumed eating her cake once more and popped a forkful of the fluffy goodness into her mouth.
“Verity and I speak a lot more lately, and she has mentioned how much the Duke of Talwyn has enquired about you. Apparently, he isextremely interestedin your social calendar, and one cannot help but wonder if that is because he wishes to align his with it.”
“Nonsense,” Phoebe laughed, waving off the notion. “I have barely been in London; I am unknowable, a nobody, only interesting for being my father’s daughter.”
She brushed an imaginary crumb off her sky-blue, silk sleeves that flowed around her upper arm, needing something to do with her hands because she could no longer pretend to enjoy her dessert or feign having a headache.
“Or mayhap, he is intrigued to learn more about me because I was away from London for so long. I have rejected enough suitors in the past that he must have heard about what drove me to leave.”
