“How can I be joyful?” Phoebe replied with a touch of anguish coloring her tone. “Every time I look at the Duke… every time I think of him, I am reminded of how I am betraying the Marquess of Birchwood and my parents.”
“Hmm…” Genevieve mused. “This is a conundrum.” She tapped the tip of her glove on her small, pert nose, then suddenly, her eyes lit with inspiration. “If you cannot express your feelings for the Duke, write about them. If you think it is pointless to be attracted to him, then pour your heart into your journal. You are so talented, Phoebe, and you must let yourself realize that. If you cannot act on these feelings, then at leastwriteabout them and let yourself indulge in the experience.”
At that suggestion, Phoebe’s dismayed grimace turned into a sheepish smile. “Ah… that is what I have not yet told you or shared. I already have written about the Duke… several times.”
Genevieve’s gasp of excitement barely held back the squeal she gave that attracted the attention of others around them. Once more the frumpy women at the nearest table turned to give the girls a censorious glare. Phoebe giggled, trying her best to shush her friend’s excitement.
“You must show me!” Genevieve insisted. “Come. We are leaving immediately. I must see these writings.”
“Gen, you cannot really read my journal. I only write in there for my own amusement and?—”
“Come,come.” Her friend was already standing in a flurry, both of their desserts all but forgotten.
Phoebe let herself be swept up in Genevieve’s whirlwind of giddiness. The cousins often swapped books and shared their reactions to certain stories with one another. Since they both enjoyed reading novels, it made sense to have these experiences together. But now, Phoebe felt anxious about sharing a story involving herself and the Duke. She was not accustomed to showing others her own works, and she had never dreamed of letting someone else see her private thoughts about the Duke of Talwyn.
But Genevieve was right when she said I needed to unburden myself.
A lightness like she hadn’t felt in days swelled in Phoebe’s breast as she stood quickly and followed her cousin out of the tea shop.
Phoebe clambered into the carriage Genevieve had picked her up earlier in the day, and they returned to Tripleton House. Genevieve peeked through doorways, checking Phoebe’s parents were still out at the business lunch they had left for a while after breakfast.
When discovered her parents were absent, the two hurried down the hallway. Despite the stress of everything, Phoebe felt like a young girl again, as though she could peek into the life she should have had.
She had often visited Genevieve when she was in Nantwich with her grandfather. Genevieve’s father had owned an estate in the country as well, and the girls regularly united so that they might play and chat.
The visits had been scarce, but enough that they had formed a bond strong enough that as soon as Phoebe returned to London upon the news of her betrothal, Genevieve had immediately tugged her into theton’ssocial scene, acting as though they had spent every day together.
Phoebe was glad that she and Genevieve had a friendship which had endured trials and tribulations. And as they dashed down the hall, sneaking peeks over their shoulders to be certain that none of the household staff members were trailing them, Phoebe was delighted to know that Genevieve was by her side.
Bursting into her chambers, Phoebe immediately went to where she hid her writing journal in a secret desk drawer compartment. Usually, she kept it beneath her pillow, but whenshe left the house, weary of her parents ever invading her space, she put it in the hidden compartment.
Genevieve sighed happily, collapsing onto her back on Phoebe’s bed. When Phoebe joined her, Genevieve rolled onto her front. If Phoebe’s mother could see them like that, lounging so casually in their fine gowns…
Well, it was not really worth thinking about.
Either way, Phoebe was letting herself be impulsive and excited as she flipped to her most recent writings.
“And who is… the merchant’s daughter, Penelope?” Genevieve asked, leaning closer to begin eagerly reading. “Is she based on you? Oh, do say so.”
“She might be,” Phoebe giggled girlishly. With Genevieve, she could let herself be a little younger, be a little more carefree, and she always missed those moments when they ended. “And Prince Samuel is?—”
“The Duke of Talwyn?” Genevieve’s brows lifted suggestively. Phoebe blushed, nodding.
“The premise is that Penelope sneaks out of her terrible father’s home after he tries to marry her off to one of his business associates. However, she has always longed to travel and visit other continents, so she seizes a chance during the middle of the night. She sneaks down into her father’s warehouse, slippingherself into a merchant crate she knew was due to be loaded on a ship the following morning.”
“Only, when she gets put on the ship, she finds that she was put on the wrong one. Rather than a merchant ship destined to take her to another continent, she ends up on a royal, naval vessel, manned by none other than?—”
“Oh, Prince Samuel?” Genevieve cut in animatedly. “I rather like this! What happens next?”
Phoebe laughed to herself, toying with the corner of the page Genevieve read. “I have not gotten to that part yet, but he will find her himself. Perhaps he will see her as a stowaway, which is not so false, and threaten to toss her overboard.
“Perhaps he will be a little cruel at first, but that will be the delightful part: watching them both fall in love. Or perhaps he will be softer and offer her sympathy upon hearing her story. He could give her refuge in his palace, letting her pose as a foreign princess. His faux betrothed, maybe.”
“And the other idea I can see glittering behind those eyes of yours?”
Phoebe blushed, thinking of the version of the Duke she had met at the masquerade. “I was thinking about, what if he pretends not to be a prince? I could have him dressed in more casual attire with little to say he is the royalty on board.”
“Or maybe he could even wear the uniform of a naval officer?” Phoebe tossed out the idea enthusiastically, then heaved a swoony sigh. “Oh, there is nothing quite like seeing a gentlemen dressed in a fine blue coat.”
