She and her sisters had worn them often enough in the country, as it made nearly everything easier. Her parents didn’t mind as long as they didn’t have company, and back then Will hadn’t counted.
But he still looked shocked. His gaze traveled down her bodybefore returning to her face. Then he raised an eyebrow. “And how do you explain the mustache?”
Phoebe grinned. She was quite proud of her whiskers. “I help the drama club at school. Last term we put onRomeo and Juliet, so there were a few pairs left over.”
“Depressing choice for a school play,” Will grunted.
“It was, yes. The girls had great fun during the fight scenes though. Our Mercutio was particularly inspired. Here.” She rummaged in her coat pocket and pulled out an envelope with his own set of false whiskers.
Will looked indignant. “I’m not wearing those.”
“Well, you can’t go dressed like that.” She gestured at his elegant evening suit. “You look like a duke.”
And far too handsome. It was distracting.
“Iama duke.”
“Not in there.” Phoebe pointed across the street. “Remember what the inspector said: you’ll stick out. We’re trying not to be noticed.”
Margrave rolled his eyes. “And you thinkyouwon’t?”
“I fooled you, didn’t I?”
“Only for a moment,” he grumbled as his gaze tracked down her form yet again, but with more deliberation this time. Phoebe felt oddly exposed. And warm. Very warm. She brushed past him and addressed the coachman, who had been politely pretending they didn’t exist.
“Excuse me, sir. May the duke borrow your coat?”
The coachman immediately gave her a bewildered look. “Miss?”
“Come down here a moment,” she said as she crooked her finger.
“See? You didn’t fool John,” Will murmured by her ear as they waited for him to join them on the pavement.
A delightful shiver ran down her neck, but she kept her gaze forward. “Only because he heard you call me Phoebe,” she explained as John dutifully shucked his coat and handed it to her. “People see what they expect to see. And in a place like this it does not include a man in a cashmere topcoat. Isn’t that right, John?”
He shot a nervous glance at Will. “It’s true, Your Grace.”
Phoebe then held out her hand expectantly.
“I don’t suppose that includes a girl in trousers and a false mustache, either,” Will said.
“Exactly. Now stop stalling.”
He gave her a dark look before he let out a huff and began unbuttoning his coat.
“Yes, I know this is a terrible inconvenience for you,” Phoebe drawled, attempting to lessen the unexpectedly heady effect of watching him undo the buttons with his long, leather-gloved fingers.
“It’s a waste of time.” Will pulled off his coat and handed it to John. “Here. Wear this.”
The man’s eyes widened as if Will had handed him the crown jewels. “Your Grace, I couldn’t—”
“Just take it, John. It’s cold out.”
The man obeyed and gingerly placed it around his shoulders. “I won’t want to pop a stitch,” he explained.
Will huffed in response and put on John’s coat, which was both too short in length and too wide in the shoulders. He shot Phoebe an exasperated look. “Isthisacceptable?”
“Yes. Now your shoes.”
