Phoebe blinked.
The duchess went on. “But he came around after a year or so. I knew I loved him, you see, and I thought he could love me in the future. And he did.”
Her mother’s lips curved upward slightly. “I want your happiness, Phoebe. I suppose I thought your happiness should take the same form mine did. Marry a duke, become a duchess, get your husband to fall in love with you, and have children. But it’s possible that isn’t your path to happiness. After all, we’re different, aren’t we, despite my thinking we should be the same. This is a long way of saying you don’t have to marry Thornwick or anyone you don’t want to. Are you still engaged?”
“Yes.”
“I want you to make up your own mind about things, but I have been reflecting this evening. About the Duchess of Thornwick. There is something not right there. I don’t like to see a woman frightened in her own home. I wouldn’t want that to be you in thirty or forty years.”
“I’ll never be like that.”
“Good. I know I’ve called you stubborn in the past, and I regret I framed it as a criticism. Stubbornness is a kind of strength, you know, and I want you to be strong.”
“Do you and Papa ever disagree?”
“Yes.”
“About what?”
“Different things. For example, we disagree about you. Specifically, about you and George Danforth. You know I think you should have given up playing chess with him a long time ago. But your father likes George and likes that you play chess. He is very proud of your wins. He thinks you’re clever, and he’s right about that. He thinks you take after him, but he’s wrong there.” Her mother raised her eyebrows. “Thirty-three years of marriage, and he still doesn’t know I’m the clever one.”
“Why do you dislike George so much?”
“He’s had too much influence on you, Phoebe. All your life. I suppose in some way, I was jealous. I wanted you to be pleasing me instead of him. And I worried you didn’t like yourself and I thought it was his doing. You aren’t engaged to him, are you?”
“No. Still Thornwick.”
“As I said, you must make your own decision.”
Phoebe didn’t know. She didn’t know. George was gone, and she still didn’t know. She was still a child.
“I would like to hear your advice, Mother.”
“Don’t marry. Not yet. I know you’re impatient, but give yourself a bit more time. And I know I urged a short engagement, but I’ve changed my mind.”
“Why?”
Her mother shuddered. “Besides my feeling that something is not right in this house and not right with the Duchess of Thornwick, I overheard Lord Longridge and Lord Dagenham talking. Something about His Grace leaving you alone with a wild pig. Abingdon would have never. Even before he was in love with me. A man’s natural impulse should be to protect his woman, not run away.”
Phoebe lay on her back, staring into the darkness, unable to sleep. She heard her door creak open and was immediately frightened. Back in London, she had wished Thornwick would come to her during the house party, but now she didn’t want him in her bedchamber. She sat up.
“Who is it?” she got out.
“Phee?”
Alice crossed the room quickly and sat on Phoebe’s bed, in the exact same place her mother had sat just a few hours earlier.
“I’m sorry to wake you up.”
“I wasn’t asleep.”
“Phee, I need to talk to you about something important.”
Phoebe held still and waited.
“I know I’m usually shallow and glib, but I’m serious right now.”
“All right.”
