“What would you choose if you were allowed, Phoebe?” Sebastian interjected.
She tried to come up with an answer, but her exhaustion swept through her, final, and draining. She found that she had nothing left in her but the truth.
“If I was allowed… I do not ever think I will be given that freedom. I do not think I will ever get a choice, so why bother contemplating the matter?”
“All right,” he answered carefully, “so why not get some help?”
“What do you mean?” She stared at him, utterly bewildered.
“Let me help you find a husband before your parents can. Someoneyouchoose. Someone who makes you smile and engages you in lively conversation. Someone who can see you clearly and adore all your quirks.”
There was something tight in his voice. Phoebe recognized that he was graciously offering to help her find a suitable husband, but the thought pained her.
I wish to share my stories with him…to listen to him…I am at my happiest when I listen to Sebastian’s soothing voice.
“Someone worthy,” Sebastian continued. “A good man, somebody who will keep you safe.”
Phoebe let out a bitter huff of a laugh. “Does such a paragon even exist?”
“Of course he does.” And, in the darkness of the garden, she believed him. She did not know why, but she did, for she had not heard such sincerity in anyone’s voice for a long, long time.
“Phoebe,” he said, his voice was gentle and soft, coaxing. “Come back to me. I know you are caught in your mind.”
“I am not,” she insisted.
“Your eyes are vacant. You are drifting away into a world of your own making.”
“How do you know this?”
“Because I have been learning you,” he told her. “Through others, through you. I am learning to appreciate everything about you.”
“You will ruin everything,” she whispered. “You will ruin me, if you try to save me.” She said it to save him the grace of his previous idle comment.
He shook his head vigorously. “No. No, I promise I will not. That is not my intention, Phoebe. I only want to see you safe, for I cannot get the image out of my head of that wretched lord that pinned your wrist. The way you hid your hand, your wrist, afterwards. Phoebe, whether you think you have a choice or not, youneededto be saved, and nobody heard you. Nobody, but me. Me, and perhaps your friend.”
“My cousin,” she added quietly. “But she is also a lady, so not many people listen to her, either.”
“But they will listen to a Duke.”
“And what can a Duke do for me, against my father?”
Her words came out bitter, harsh. Angry.
“A great deal.”
“Prove it.”
“I met your grandfather once.”
The words stopped her short.
“What?” she whispered.
“The former Earl of Tripleton. I met him once.” His jaw clenched tightly, but Phoebe stiffened, righting herself.
“What do you mean?” She pulled back slightly so that she could look up into his face without feeling his breath waft over her cheeks. “When you asked me about him earlier…”
“I wanted to hear you talk about him,” he said. “I needed to know what he meant to you.” He inhaled deeply. “Since we are dealing honestly with each other tonight, I must admit that I have been investigating your background, Phoebe. I have been trying to find out all I can about you and the people who are in your life.”
