The Prince is supposed to take Penelope in his arms and cradle her there until she is fully satisfied.
“Forgive me.”
The Duke stooped, scooped up his silk hat, and deposited it back on top of his head.
“I knew what might happen if I saw you again, Lady Phoebe, but I could not stay away.”
He turned on his heel and beat a hasty retreat down the garden path.
“Wait!” Phoebe left her own glove lying in the dirt so that she might hurry after him. “You do not have to go. You should not leave like this.”
“I must,” he insisted, not bothering to turn around and face her as he offered her this lame rejection.
“I knew what would happen, too,” she said as she gained ground on him and grabbed hold of his elbow. The Duke jerked to a halt.
His eyes, which were now riddled with guilt, darted back and forth between hers. “You did?”
“I asked you to kiss me,” she huffed as she tried to catch her breath. “I wanted to touch you. I still want to.”
“No.” The Duke shook his head vehemently. “I have business I must attend to now, Lady Phoebe.”
“But…” she spluttered. “But then, you will leave me like this?”
His features twisted into a sorrowful expression. “I do not want to leave you, but I must.” He adjusted the brim of his hat,causing one of the daisies to fall out and drop to the grass. “I have business, pressing business, and…forgive me.”
Phoebe could do nothing but watch him leave. The Duke moved as though he was possessed. He sprinted up the stone steps, raced across the green lawn, then disappeared around the corner of the townhouse.
“Where is he going in such a hurry?” Genevieve appeared then. She lifted her hands and shielded her eyes so she might squint into the distance and continue to track the Duke’s movements, but Phoebe did not bother. She knew he was already gone.
“Some place… Any place but here.” Phoebe’s shoulders slumped glumly.
Genevieve bent and retrieved the daisy that lay just an inch away from Phoebe’s shoes.
“I think His Grace dropped this.” She handed the posey to Phoebe.
“That he did.”
Phoebe took the flower and made her way to where she left her book. Gently, she cracked the spine of her journal and opened it to the page where she had left her other dried flower bookmark. Carefully, she placed the token the Duke had left behind between the pages, then she sighed deeply.
“Come along, Genevieve. We ought to go inside now.”
“But what happened with the Duke?” Genevieve asked quietly.
“I shall tell you all about it some other time.”
Chapter Fourteen
After leaving Phoebe standing in the Tripleton Gardens, Sebastian ordered his driver to take him directly to the house on Souse Street, so he could return to conducting his private investigation.
He had managed to closet himself inside the home for nearly a week, only leaving when it was necessary to speak to his contacts. But then, something urged him to call on Lady Phoebe.
And now, I have made a proper mess of things.
Sebastian’s feelings were jumbled, but he knew he could find solace by returning to his work. The situation with Lady Phoebe would not be quite so volatile if he could find out how to expose Tripleton and Birchwood without drawing too much attention to himself.
Over the course of the next day, Sebastian prowled the streets of London, searching for information. Just when he thought it wiseto turn in for the evening, his sights fixed on the man who strode down the pavement as though he owned the streets.
His boxy shoulders were wider than any other part of his body but were not comprised of useful muscles. He wore a plum overcoat draped atop a traditional black evening suit. The shine on his boots was evident even in the waning twilight and when the man had the audacity to purse his lips together and start to whistle a tune, Sebastian nearly screamed.
