She instantly recalled the look of annoyance that had barely left Will’s face the moment he entered the inspector’s office. Lord knew what kind of elegant women heactuallyassociated with. They certainly didn’t spend most of the day in skirts smeared with chalk dust.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Marian said sarcastically. “Wealth, a title, power?” Then she paused. “Wait, he isn’t one of those very old dukes, is he?”
If only.
“No, he’s just a little older than my sister Alex.”
Marion gave her a sly smile. “Is he handsome?”
Phoebe crossed her arms. “Who cares?”
“Definitelyhandsome, then.”
“Don’t look so smug.”
“Excuse me, but a young, handsome duke rescued you from jail and you said nothing about it! Have I done anything to give you the impression that I would not be interested in such information? Because Iam.”
Phoebe shook her head. “You’re making this into far more than it is. It’s not as if I’ll be seeing him again.”
“Why not?”
Now it was her turn to roll her eyes. “Funnily enough, our paths don’t cross very much given our respective positions in society.”
“You could change that,” Marion argued. “Easily.”
You could probably see him this evening, if you wished.
Lord knew Freddie was invited everywhere.
“But I won’t.” She said it more for herself than Marion.
The bell then sounded, signaling both the end of luncheon and her interrogation. “We are far from done here,” Marion said as she pointed her finger at Phoebe. “I want every little detail when we get home.”
“Sorry to disappoint, but your inquisition will have to wait,” Phoebe replied as she headed toward the door, suddenly grateful for the excuse. “I’m visiting my mother after school to discuss the charity bazaar.”
“Perhaps you should invite the duke then,” Marion teased.
Phoebe let out a burst of genuine laughter at the idea and headed back to her own classroom. As if someone like Will wouldeverlower himself to bother with her little school. How absurd.
Four
Phoebe stared out the window of the hackney as modest brick buildings gave way to tidy town houses and finally the grand classical-style mansions of Belgravia. At this hour the streets were mostly populated by pairs of finely dressed ladies no doubt heading to pay afternoon calls to other finely dressed ladies to trade thinly veiled insults mixed with bits of gossip. Phoebe suppressed a shudder and sat back in her seat. She already missed the vibrancy of her neighborhood.
As the carriage pulled up in front of a property that took up the top portion of a crescent of terrace houses, dread bubbled low in her belly. Her parents had caused a minor scandal when they bought two adjoining mansions years ago and combined them to create Park House, named for the impressive back garden. Her father had been inspired to commit this architectural offense while on a business trip to New York by the enormous Fifth Avenue mansions populated by robber barons and the nouveau riche. He liked to say that he had brought a little bit of thatsplendid American gauche to the West End. And while a number of neighbors whispered their disapproval, even more followed suit as soon as they could. Phoebe had once admired her father’s unwavering commitment to riling London society at every opportunity,but the older she got, the more it felt like a gigantic waste of energy—to say nothing of the expense.
The carriage had long since rocked to a stop, but Phoebe took another moment to collect herself. She pasted a bright smile on her face before she stepped onto the pavement and had nearly made it to the front door before it swung open. “Good afternoon, Munson!”
The family’s stodgy old butler gave a short bow as he stepped aside. “Miss Atkinson.”
Munson was a relic inherited from her maternal grandmother’s much more formal household, which made him a horrible snob who disapproved of Phoebe’s living arrangements—not that he wouldeverbe vulgar enough to show it. However, the housemaids liked to talk and they all claimed he was the biggest gossip in the neighborhood.
“Is my mother in?” She pulled off her gloves and cast a subtle look around the grand entryway.
“Madam is in the pink room. Follow me.”
“Goodness, Munson. It hasn’t beenthatlong since my last visit,” Phoebe joked, but the butler remained stone-faced. “I can find the way myself,” she added quietly.
“As you wish.” He then gave another short bow before shuffling off to grace another part of the house with his sparkling presence.
