He leaned closer to Phoebe, and her senses were overwhelmed by the faint scent of baking apples that she had fancied she smelt on his skin before.
“Did you tell your friend what passed between us at Lord Spencer’s Masquerade?”
“Of course not,” Phoebe retorted immediately. “I do not know why Genevieve said such a thing. She…I think she meant to make me blush and…”
“Then she has succeeded.” The Duke lifted his free hand and rubbed his thumb over Phoebe’s right cheek.
Before she could say anything or even bat his hand away and insist that he behaved properly, the Duke pivoted slightly and cast a look backward at Genevieve.
Do you think you should like to hear me read aloud?”
“Oh, immensely, Your Grace,” Genevieve enthused. “Your voice is so rich and splendid. I could listen to you sing for hours. I only imagine that you read just as well.”
“Some would say that I do.” He turned his head once more so that he was looking at Phoebe. “What do you think, my lady?”
“You are an exceptional reader, Your Grace. Your skills are unmatched.”
“I am glad you think so.” He smiled charmingly, then nodded at the fork in the path that lay ahead. “Which way should we go?”
Once more, before Phoebe could reply, Genevieve inserted herself into the conversation. “I was thinking of picking a few roses to take home to my mama.” She gestured toward the path which wound to the left side of the hedgerows. “But you said you wanted to see the lilacs, Your Grace.” She raised her right hand and pointed down the other pathway. “The lilac shrubs are over there.”
“I see,” the Duke murmured as another slow smile spread broadly across his face. “Well done, Lady Genevieve. You go pick your roses and we will find our way to the lilacs.”
“See you soon,” Genevieve called after them as the Duke led the way down the right fork of the garden pathway, pulling Phoebe ever so slightly while keeping her close to his side.
Once they were alone, the Duke said conversationally, “Tell me more about this book, Lady Phoebe. If I am to read aloud from it, I should like to know if I am already familiar with the work.”
“No. I mean…” Phoebe was flustered. She took a deep breath to calm herself. “You are not acquainted with this work, Your Grace, because the book Genevieve and I were reading before you joined us was written by… well… by me.”
“Outstanding,” he cheered. “You told me once that you fancied yourself an authoress. And now, I find that you have been hard at work, pursuing your passion. That is commendable, Lady Phoebe.”
“It is?” She stared at him, looking for anything less than sincerity, gazing back at her. She found only genuine ebullience.
“Many people believe they are capable of being great thinkers, splendid writers, and sparkling conversationalists. But it is the truly gifted who can devote themselves to the task and produce results.” He stopped walking abruptly and she halted as well. Slowly, they turned to face each other. “I should like to tell you how much I admire you, Lady Phoebe.”
“You do?” Her heart fluttered maniacally in her chest as she waited for him to reply.
“Your life has not been easy and even though you face challenges daily, you remain undeterred. You long to be a writer, and so you spend your time writing. That, my lady, is admirable.”
“Oh…” Phoebe stared into the depths of the Duke of Talwyn’s eyes and suddenly felt as if her legs had become nothing more than two gelatinous blobs. She clutched his elbow tightly just to keep herself standing. “I admire you too, Your Grace.”
A beat of silence lingered between them before he whispered, “Why?”
“Your voice,” she answered honestly. “When I hear it, I feel…”
“Yes?”
“I feel like I can do anything… say anything.”
“You can tell me anything, Lady Phoebe. You have told me a great deal about yourself already.”
He reached for her left hand, the one that was encased in the plain white glove. Touching just the tip of her middle finger, the Duke gave the fabric a quick tug. The glove slid slightly and he yanked again.
“How do you feel right now?” he breathed as he pulled on the glove, causing her wrist to become exposed.
“Surprised,” she admitted. “I did not expect you to try to take off my glove.”
“What else?” he urged as he gave one very good yank and the glove slipped off her fingers altogether and fluttered lightly to the ground.
