His mother was generous with her thanks and always deferred to his judgment, until Will was named the heir a few years later and the old duke demanded he come stay with him. She had readily agreed, eveninsistedhe go to live with a strange man he had never met in a part of the country he had never visited.
Will had tried to argue, but her mind was made up and he couldn’t deny the duke without her support. So away he went, filled with the kind of righteous indignation at her betrayal only the very young could sustain for any length of time. The pain had faded a great deal over the years, settling into more of a muted antipathy, but it never truly went away.
Will absently rubbed his chest. How easily he could still call up that old wound. When he inherited the dukedom, Will made sure she had a lovely summer home in the Lake District, an elegant town house in London, and a generous allowance, but refused to share a roof with her ever again. When he visited her and Cal inSurrey, he always made sure to return to London the same evening no matter the hour. And if she had ever noticed this pattern of behavior over the years, she never said a word to him about it.
“… Mrs. Atkinson hopes to raise at least fifty pounds.”
Will perked up. His mind had been wandering for the last five minutes, at least.
“Oh, really?” He had no idea what his mother had been saying, but this seemed like a reasonable response.
“Well, naturally, darling. Lady Montgomery’s garden party used to bring in twice that much. And it’s for such a good cause. I’m going over there this afternoon for tea with her and Phoebe to discuss their plans for the bazaar. They need to hold it before the end of the month, so we will have to act quickly.”
Will blinked, still lost. “Yes, of course.”
“I know I haven’t always approved of Alexandra, but what Phoebe is doing is admirable. You can’t deny that. Those poor girls have so little. If they lose the school too, who knows what will happen to them.”
Will’s breath caught. Phoebe’s school was in trouble? Why the devil hadn’t she said anything? He frowned. “May I help?”
“Of course! I’m sure a donation would be very welcome.”
“Certainly, but perhaps more can be done.” He wasn’t just a bloody checkbook. “Idohave some sway in Parliament, you know.” Will managed a teasing smile that was completely lost on his mother.
Her mouth dropped open for a moment before she recovered. “I… I can ask.”
“Actually, might it not be better if I joined you? Then I can find out exactly what is needed.”
And Phoebe wouldn’t be able to dodge him so easily in her mother’s home.
“You want to come to Mrs. Atkinson’s,” she said slowly, as if Will had spoken to her in Latin. “For tea.”
“Yes, if you think she’ll have me.”
“I’m sure she would be delighted.” Then she narrowed her eyes. “Does this have something to do with Alexandra?”
Will let out an impatient huff. “No.”
She would probably go to her grave certain that he was in love with Alex.
“All right.” His mother didn’t look convinced, but she changed the subject anyway.
As Will sat back in his chair and once again pretended to listen, his heart fluttered with anticipation. He was supposed to be finding a duchess, not gallivanting around London with someone who possessed the complete opposite qualities he needed in a wife. But all he could picture was the look of surprise on Phoebe’s face when he entered the Atkinsons’ parlor. For that moment alone he would suffer through a hundred awkward conversations with his mother. No, a thousand. He smiled and took a sip of tea.
“You’re in an awfully good mood all of a sudden,” she noted.
For once Will ignored the instinct to hide his true feelings from her behind a stoic facade. “As a matter of fact I am,” he replied. “I think it will be a lovely afternoon.”
Twelve
Once Phoebe returned from her jaunt with Will, she spent most of the night tossing and turning, too agitated from the events of the evening to sleep. Eventually she drifted off, but even her dreams were filled with him: his skillful kisses, the feel of his commanding touch, and his unrestrained groans. When she awoke with a start just after dawn, her skin was slick with sweat and her limbs were knotted in the bedsheets, while the space between her thighs grew heavy with pent-up desire. She was so unbearably sensitive, wound so tight from this unrelenting tension between them, that she was able to bring herself to release in only a few moments. Phoebe gritted her teeth against the nearly overwhelming urge to say Will’s name as she came and settled for a muffled gasp. Then she sank into her mattress while taking heaving breaths and staring blankly at the ceiling.
She wasn’t anywhere close to feeling satisfied but it would have to do. Phoebe turned over and screamed into her pillow. She felt marginally better. Enough to actually get on with her day. But then she remembered what that entailed and felt like screaming again. After school she had to rush over to her mother’s house to discuss the charity bazaar with some of her society friends. And that meant being on her best behavior to win the support of thesematrons. She had to be charming but not vain, humble but not pitiable, grateful but not grating. It was a delicate balance that Phoebe had never quite mastered, but that’s what her mother was for.
After dawdling for another few minutes, Phoebe hauled herself out of bed, washed, and donned her version of a suit of armor: a cream-colored blouse, a navy blue skirt with matching vest, a black tie, and a tailored jacket. She always felt especially confident in this outfit. Freddie once said it made her look rather mannish, but perhaps that was why. She then ate a sweet bun and gulped down a cup of tea before heading off to school with Marion. They made polite, impersonal conversation on the short walk. Ever since their argument about Alice, there had been an awkwardness between them that Phoebe didn’t know how to resolve. It also didn’t help that she hadn’t been spending much time in the flat.
When they reached the school and headed off to their classrooms, Phoebe’s relief was swiftly followed by guilt. Perhaps she was behaving cowardly, but she couldn’t deal with Marion’s judgment over her potentially disastrous personal choices at the moment. Anytime her thoughts dared to stray to Will, she gave the back of her hand a little pinch. But it was not very effective, as by the end of the school day the spot had turned red.
After a brief meeting with the headmistress to discuss a failing student, Phoebe was finally able to leave. She arrived at her family’s home later than planned—tired, grumpy, and more than a little hungry. Her mother’s friends would be coming in just fifteen minutes. Phoebe bustled into the house and ran straight up the stairs into her old room. She headed for the dressing table mirror and let out a sigh. She looked like someone who had barely slept and thenspent a large part of the day trying to teach a room full of uninterested young ladies how to diagram a sentence.
