“I suppose that makes me rather like your Mr. Darcy now,” he said, unable to resist the chance to tease her. “Perhaps I should startattending country dances and stand in the corner looking down my nose at the rabble.” Ever since Phoebe finished the Austen novel earlier in the month she had been endlessly sighing over the hero’s quiet transformation after being delivered a set-down by the sharp-tongued heroine. Though Will had not read the book himself, he was quite tired of hearing about the handsome and so very noble Mr. Darcy who changed just for the merehopeof winning the heroine’s esteem.
The whole plot sounded like utter rubbish to him.
But Phoebe only grunted in response while keeping her gaze fixed firmly on the fan. Her face was partially obscured by the thick waves of light brown hair that hung well past her shoulders. And while it was considered unseemly for a girl of sixteen to still wear her hair down even at home, to Will she almost resembled some kind of veiled medieval maiden. This combination of indecency and modesty was strangely titillating and perhaps that was why Will couldn’t stop staring at her even as he rambled on.
What if he wrapped one of those soft tendrils around his finger? What if he then gave it a tug? He flexed his hand and pressed it against his thigh, resisting the sudden, bone-deep urge to reach for her and find out. He was so distracted by this procession of thoughts that he left a pause in his little recitation and that was when Phoebe’s head snapped up. Sprays of sunlight gleamed off the crown of her head, making her hair shine like a halo made of burnished gold. But her expression was not anything close to the innocent adoration he had been imaging. Instead, the unfamiliar contempt in her hazel gaze was like a swift blow to the chin. For a moment he wondered if he had somehow spoken one of his indecent thoughts aloud instead of the acreage of his Oxfordshire estate, but she quickly set him to rights.
“I would imagine given that you’re such a well-endowed member of the ruling class now,” Phoebe said crisply. “You’ll be far too busy doing your importantdukelythings to come around here very much anymore, let alone a country dance.”
Her barely veiled sarcasm at this tumultuous turn of events had quite effectively doused his fledgling desire. “You think I would so easily forget where I came from,” he said, hot with indignation. “And everyone here.”
Including you?
Phoebe matched his glare. “Why not? You can’t even be bothered to stay for our little picnic.”
“No, Phoebe,” he said through his tight jaw. “Ican’t.”
Something that could have been regret flickered in her eyes, but then she threw the fan down on the table and ran inside. It could just as likely have been disgust. Will reached out and picked up the crumped paper, trying to smooth it back into shape. Then his heart sank. She had written his name on the side. Will placed the fan back on the table and pinched the bridge of his nose. He had needed her to understand. To see what he was up against. But she was too caught up in girlish nonsense.
Because sheisstill a girl.
Well, Will could hardly fault her for that. A day ago he had been caught up in the very same nonsense. But now…
Let her go, cautioned the voice in his head.It will be easier this way.
But for whom?
Eventually, Alex returned with the lemonade.
She gave him a quizzical look. “Did Phoebe leave?”
“It would appear so.” Will then shrugged in an attempt to affect unconcern. “I believe she has heard enough from me.”
The feeling wasextremelymutual.
Alex remained skeptical, but Will changed the subject. And that was the last they ever spoke of her.
Will rarely saw Phoebe after that beyond the occasional stilted hello at a ball during her one and only season or a passing nod at an exhibition. His social circle changed significantly once he was named as the duke’s heir and given the courtesy title of Viscount Middlefield. Nearly every day he received piles of invitations to all sorts of balls, soirees, and clubs. Schoolmates who had never given him a second glance now sought him out, while women treated him like a god among men. If Will were beingveryhonest, he… got a little caught up in it all for the first few years.
Only his friendship with Alex remained unaffected, mostly because she didn’t give a damn about his title one way or the other. Yet whenever he crossed paths with Phoebe, however briefly, an undercurrent of irritation leftover over from that long-ago afternoon hummed between them, usually accompanied by that hint of contempt in her eyes. But Will never did make it back to the Atkinsons’ Surrey house. Not since the summer when everything changed.
It irked him now to realize Phoebe had been right.
Hehadbeen too busy with dukely things.
Will opened the door to the inspector’s office with more force than necessary and as it hit the wall with a satisfying thud, someone let out a startled yelp. It was Phoebe, standing in the center of the room dressed in a dark blue skirt and matching jacket with a striped shirtwaist. Her straw boater hat was a little askew and obscured most of her hair, which, he thought with a pang of regret, was tied back.
And he hated that he noticed.
Her mouth dropped open and her hazel eyes went wide with astonishment rather than the usual contempt. “You actually came.”
She still thought so little of him, then.
“Of course I came,” he said, unable to control the sharpness in his tone.
Phoebe looked chastened. “It’s just that Alex is away, you know. And it all happened so fast. But I really didn’t expect you to—”
“Well I’m here now,” he cut in. No need for her to elaborate any further on her utter lack of confidence in him.
