“Agreed.” Phoebe then pressed Will onto his back. “Now no more talk of family. I want to try that last thing we did again, but with me on top this time.”
Will clasped his hands behind his head and let out a mock-sigh. “All right. But I must say, you are very demanding.”
Phoebe leaned down until their noses touched. “Oh, you havenoidea,” she murmured.
A grin split his face as he pulled her in for a kiss, quite certain he was going to enjoy finding out.
Twenty-Eight
The next morning Will headed for the breakfast room much later than usual. Cal would have finished hours ago, but Will didn’t mind the thought of having the room to himself as he couldn’t stop smiling like an idiot. Phoebe would be hiswife.
He had spirited her out of the house through the back entrance hours ago before immediately returning to bed for some much-needed sleep. But he had every intention of repeating their activities tonight. Perhaps in her bed this time. He could surprise her, much like she had surprised him. But rather than falling through the window, Will preferred something more subtle, like kissing her awake.
It was on that thought he entered the breakfast room. And found hismotherseated at the table.
“Oh, good morning, darling,” she trilled, setting down her teacup. “Cal’s gone into the village, but I’ve been waiting for you, sleepyhead.” Will was rendered speechless. “Here, take a seat,” she said as she patted the spot beside her. Will was so stunned he obeyed without question. “Would you like me to make you a plate? I had Cook make a tray of creamed eggs for you.”
Will managed a nod. “All right.”
She flashed him a smile and set about gathering his breakfast from the sideboard while Will eyed her.
“I thought you were in Sussex with the Hoxtons,” he said.
“I was, but then Mrs. Hoxton wasn’t feeling well, poor thing.So I returned to London early. Then Cal sent me a message saying you were here.” She cast him a glance over her shoulder. “Do you still hate kippers?”
“Yes.”
She clucked her tongue and glided over with his breakfast. “Just like your father,” she said with a smile. “They’re good for your brain.”
Will’s mouth quirked. They had been having this debate since he was a boy. “I don’t care. They taste like low tide.”
“Nonsense!”
She returned to her seat as Will picked up his fork. “Thank you for remembering the creamed eggs, though.”
“Of course.”
Will attacked his plate with relish. He was far hungrier than he realized. His mother watched him with rapt interest.
“Oh my,” she marveled. “Cal said you had been keeping active here.”
Will grunted in reply. Better she not know exactlyhow.
“It’s good for you to get outside in the fresh air,” she continued. “You spend too much time behind a desk.”
“That’s not really a choice I have, Mother,” he said tartly. “Managing a dukedom is rather a lot of work.”
“I know that. But you have very competent people working for you. I only meant it needn’t consume you so,” she added.
Will set down his fork, but the sympathy in his mother’s eyes took the bite out of his temper. “You’re right.”
Her eyebrows rose. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say that to me before.”
“Mother,” he warned. “In my defense, you haven’t given me much advice. It’s usually the other way round.”
She glanced down at the decorative tablecloth and began running her finger along the stitching. “I know,” she murmured.
Was his mother nervous? The thought was rather unsettling.
