She lowered her head as her whole face blushed a deep crimson. “I did not bring my journal here, Your Grace.”
“Lady Phoebe,” his voice lowered and became quite serious.
“Yes, Your Grace?”
He frowned. “I should like it very much if you broke with tradition and stopped calling meYour Grace.I am me. I am Sebastian. Use my Christian name when we have these private moments together.”
“Very well… Sebastian,” she breathed, hesitant, as if trying it out.
“Yes,” he affirmed. “Sebastian. And Phoebe, if that pleases you.”
“That is perfectly fine,” she answered. “If anything, beingLady Phoebeonly makes me think about—” She cut herself off, shaking her head, but Sebastian was intrigued.
“Go on,” he encouraged.
“It only makes me think of my terrible debut experience. When I think of that first dreadful Season, I feel awful. Every time someone addresses me formally and I am reminded of how I have never been acknowledged for my own worth. I am merely the daughter of the Earl of Tripleton. Back then and even today am notme; No one knows who I really am, they only see the obedient woman my father and mother wish me to be.”
“How are you different from the young lady your father and mother have determined you should be?” Sebastian prompted. He earnestly wanted to know.
“I have…” Her voice shook slightly. “I have stories to tell. I have an active imagination and enjoy sharing my thoughts with others. I want to be heard and appreciated. Seen.”
Her shoulders sagged, as though making this admission had sapped all her strength.
“I shall listen to you, Phoebe,” he swore. “I will hear your words and revel in your stories. When we are together, we will not constrain our emotions or hide behind the titles we were born to inherit. I will honor you and cherish the time we spend together. We will not allow our titles to define us.”
Her eyes met his, her expression grateful and sorrowful at once. “Thank you.” She quickly turned away, as if embarrassed, and looked at the array of hard, boiled sweets and pastries. “It is a shame that the vendor is not present, these look rather delicious.”
“Pick any you like,” he told her. “I will leave a generous payment behind us.”
“Truly?”
“Truly. It is my treat.” He paused. “Especially because I owe you an apology, Phoebe. I should not have left you in the garden as I did.”
“No,” she said quietly, “no, you should not have left me.” Her eyes widened, as if she thought she should be so outspoken, but Sebastian only nodded at her to go on. “Your rejection hurt. It made me feel misunderstood and as if I had done something wrong. I still do not know why you left. You never wrote to me or returned. And now… now we see each other and things feel so…different.”
“Different how?” Sebastian whispered. “What has changed between us?”
“Everything,” she breathed. “I cannot close my eyes without thinking of your lips pressing into mine. I cannot even walk in my own garden without feeling anguished.”
“Anguished? Whyever should you feel that kind of torment? I know I behaved abominably by dashing away when I did, but surely, you had to know that I meant you no harm.”
“I feel anguished because that moment I spent alone with you in the garden was thrilling. And I am afraid that I will never haveany experience quite like it ever again.” Absentmindedly, she rubbed her hands up and down her arms, as if she were trying to press away gooseflesh.
“We can have that moment again,” Sebastian promised. He took a step closer to her. “We can…”
“We cannot.” The words burst from her lips in a strangled cry. “My life has already been laid out for me, Sebastian. My parents…My betrothal…I cannot fight what is in front of me.”
She lifted both hands and massaged her temples. Sebastian watched as she made slow circles with her thumbs and clamped her eyes closed.
“My future has already been decided, Sebastian. I will spend the rest of my life byhisside. I was lucky to escape Lord Birchwood for this afternoon only. Going forward, I cannot expect to be so blessed.” Her voice broke on her next word. “Choices. I did not choose this life and yet, it is the one that I am destined to endure.”
“What if I gave you another option?” he asked gently, thinking of Colonel Learmonth with the evidence and feeling a twist of grief penetrate his soul as he watched Phoebe struggle.
Her eyelashes fluttered as her lids popped open. “What?”
“Break off your engagement with Lord Birchwood,” Sebastian said boldly. “It is what you need to do. I cannot stand by and watch you enter a life of misery.”
“Who says you will watch?” she countered, clearly flustered enough to respond with the first words that came to her mind. “And… you—how can you suggest something so directly? You know I cannot?—”
