“Nothing of consequence,” Phoebe supplied before Genevieve could interject with her own version of the story.
“That is mildly disappointing,” the Duke said as he tucked his hat under his arm and strode further down the path. “I am always game for hearing a bit of good gossip.”
“No gossip today,” Genevieve said as she bounced good naturedly on her toes. “Just two ladies, reading novels, and talking of friends.”
“Are we friends, then?” The Duke gave them both a smile that was so roguish, Phoebe heard Genevieve gasp while she had to suck in a gigantic gulp of air.
“Yes?” Phoebe knew that this time when she spoke not only did her statement sound more like a question, but she also sounded a tad squeaky again.
She wanted to kick herself for behaving so foolishly in front of the Duke.
I haven’t seen him in days. Why can I not just act naturally in his presence?
There was no reason to entertain that thought further. Phoebe knew exactly why she could not be calm or self-possessed when the Duke walked into the garden and joined them.
There is a reason he is the inspiration for my novel’s hero.
“We are friends, indeed,” the Duke rejoined in a most agreeable manner, as if he had not heard Phoebe’s mouselike squeaking at all.
“Is that why you have come calling this afternoon?” Phoebe asked. “You wanted to go for a friendly stroll through Phoebe’s gardens?”
Phoebe gasped so violently that she choked on the sound.
The Duke arched an eyebrow at her, then turned his focus back to Genevieve, graciously giving Phoebe a moment to recover her composure.
“I was hoping to offer Lady Phoebe my hand.” As he said the words, the Duke held his hand out to her with the palm facing upward.
“Eh!” Genevieve trilled under her breath. “This is just like the book…just like you wrote it.”
Phoebe darted a quick sidelong glance at her cousin, then whispered through her pinched lips, “This is nothing like the book. This is really happening.”
Without warning, Genevieve gave Phoebe a nudge forward, lightly pushing her toward the Duke and his still outstretched hand.
“Lady Phoebe, would you do me the honor of showing me around Tripleton Gardens? I hear that the lilacs are blooming most beautifully this time of year.”
“I… I…Yes.” Phoebe nearly placed her bare hand in the Duke’s but then paused.
“Here.”
She whipped around to see Genevieve tossing her a set of mismatched gloves. One had a fashionable blue stamped patternon it. That glove belonged to Genevieve. It had been purchased last week in one of the shops that claimed to import items directly from Paris. The other glove was Phoebe’s plain, white one. Normally, she would have cringed at slipping her fingers into a set of uncoordinated gloves, but she did not want to keep the Duke waiting even a second longer.
“I appreciate your conscientiousness, ladies,” the Duke said as Phoebe shoved her hands into the gloves hurriedly. “Had you not thought so quickly, I would have made the dreaded mistake of touching your exposed fingertips.”
“Whatever would we have done with you then?” Phoebe teased.
Yes! I did it!
It was nonsensical, to be sure, but Phoebe inwardly cheered herself for finally saying what she meant to say, when she meant to say it while standing so closely to this man she admired deeply.
“Come,” the Duke replied as Phoebe grasped his hand, then repositioned herself so she might hold onto his elbow while they walked instead. “You can tell me more about this book you were reading while we proceed.”
“No,” Phoebe demurred. “I am sure you do not want to hear about that. It was just a bit of folly.”
“Surely not,” the Duke countered. “As you might remember, my lady, I enjoy reading immensely and take great pleasure in sharing the contents of a book with other avid readers.”
“Perhaps you could read a passage aloud for us, Your Grace,” Genevieve piped up. She had dropped into line behind Phoebe and the Duke, leaving just a few steps between them so that she might serve as chaperone.
Phoebe cringed but the Duke laughed lightly.
