Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Lord Robyn, the second son of the Marquess of Thrumberg, arrived shortly after noon, and the moment he stepped into the sitting room, the air seemed to shift.
Phoebe recalled meeting him last night at Lady Brennan’s party.
Of course, she did. How could she forget the young man who had been foisted upon her by not just her mother, but her father as well?
It seemed that every time she turned around, Lord Robyn stood before her, trying to make polite, if a tad stilted conversation.
Spending time with this gentleman was a step up from being with Lord Birchwood, but he could not hold a candle to the Duke of Talwyn.
Lord Robyn was young, perhaps four or five and twenty, just a year or two older than Phoebe herself.
He had brown hair the color of an oak’s tree bark, and despite the tension in the room, he wore an anxious, twitchy smile on his pale face.
Phoebe forced herself to stand taller, to meet his gaze with a measured composure. Her parents hovered behind her, expectant and taut, their eyes like hawks. She could feel how they were ready to correct her every misstep, and say whatever was necessary to propel the conversation.
“Lady Phoebe,” he began, voice smooth, youthful, and delicate, “I have come to make my intentions known. My visit is informal, of course, but I hope it may be received with due consideration.” He inclined his head slightly; the gesture polite yet edged with a hint of trepidation.
“I find you… most intriguing, and it is my desire to make a proposal that is mutually beneficial to all parties concerned.”
Phoebe stared at the man in disbelief. He had only met her last night. What would possess him to offer her his hand in marriage after such a short acquaintance?
She was so stymied that she meant to ask these questions and more, simply so she might hear his explanations, but then she heard her mother’s breath hitch behind her and her father surged forward to stand at her side. He gripped her elbow tightly and Phoebe could do nothing more than wince.
“Your accomplishments are noteworthy,” Lord Robyn continued in a tone that made it sound as if he were reading from a script. And perhaps, he was, for Phoebe knew she had no accomplishments to claim, other than her writing.
Even then, only a handful of people knew about her stories, and those friends and loved ones would not have shared her secrets with this young gentleman.
He ploughed ahead, oblivious of the strained smile Phoebe pressed upon her face.
“Your demeanor, your education, your refinement, all these mark you as a suitable companion for a man of position. And yet…” His eyes flicked toward her parents.
“…recent events have caused a minor inconvenience.” The words landed like carefully sharpened stones.
“The incident with Birchworth has been gossiped relentlessly. It is unfortunate that you were aligned with such a criminal, but I have been assured that, in time, all will be forgotten and made whole.”
He cast another look at the Earl and Countess. Phoebe could feel it with her father gave the young man an approving nod.
So, Lord Robyn continued. “Naturally, your parents have guaranteed me that you have a proper dowry. It is, or rather will be, sufficient to restore the family’s honor in the eyes of my peers.”
Phoebe’s pulse quickened. The weight of expectation pressed on her chest, but she drew in a slow, steadying breath.
When his gaze returned to her, she met it squarely.
“I am grateful for your consideration, sir,” she said, her voice quiet, yet firm and controlled.
“And I understand the practicalities of such arrangements. However,” She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin, “I cannot accept a marriage based solely on convenience, financial gain, or to remedy the embarrassment of others. Therefore, I thank you for the offer, but I must graciously decline.”
Lord Robyn’s eyes grew wide. It was evident that her response astounded him.
She realized it was likely her parents had promised that she would be amenable to this arrangement and had even gone so far as to guarantee that his entreaty would not be met with resistance.
A flicker of surprise passed across his features, though he immediately masked it with composed calm.
“You refuse?” His voice was low, steady, but there was an unmistakable edge of incredulity. “You are aware of the consequences, Lady Phoebe. You understand the financial and social obligations that weigh on your family. Your refusal does not occur in a vacuum.”
Phoebe inhaled deeply, feeling her heartbeat spike with both fear and exhilaration. She could hear her mother’s sharp intake of breath behind her while her father’s hand clenched around her elbow so tight that she was sure the spot would bruise later.
She did not flinch.
Her voice was steady, even as the storm of emotions whirled inside her. “I am aware,” she said softly, meeting the gentleman’s gaze without wavering.
“I am aware of all that is expected of me, and of the sacrifices made. I respect those obligations. But I also know that my life, my choices, and my happiness are not entirely subject to the will of others. I cannot consent to a marriage in which my heart and mind are not aligned. I cannot be bound to a man I do not love, nor reduced to an instrument of convenience.”
The room and the company within it lapsed into heavy silence.
Phoebe felt the weight of every eye upon her.
It was a stillness fraught with tension, the sort that crackles and hums as though the walls themselves are holding their breath.
What had lurked there before Lord Robyn made his offer was nothing when compared to the thick, tight sense of agitation that crowded the room now.
“You truly believe this refusal will not bring further scandal?” Lord Robyn asked, his voice quieter now, almost gentle, but firm, probing the measure of her resolve. “You are prepared to stand against your family, against custom, and against expectation?”
Phoebe met his gaze with staunch clarity. Her chest swelled with quiet pride
“I am prepared,” she said. “I cannot do otherwise. I will act with courtesy and respect, but I will not compromise my principles or my sense of self to satisfy the whims of others. I will not be a wife in name only.”
Her mother’s voice, sharp as a whip, cut across the silence. “Phoebe! Do you realize what you are saying? Ungrateful, reckless, selfish girl! After everything we have done, everything we have endured to secure your future, you refuse this gentleman’s marriage proposal?”
Phoebe felt a wave of heat rise to her cheeks, but she did not shrink. Her voice remained calm. She would not allow herself to quiver or shake now. The conviction in her words bolstered her courage.
“I am grateful, truly, for all you have done. I honor your efforts. But gratitude does not require sacrifice of my autonomy. I cannot allow my life to be bargained away, my consent assumed. I… I must stand for myself.”
Her father’s face reddened, and his voice grew louder, trembling with indignation. “You will regret this! You have no understanding of the consequences. You are foolish, Phoebe! The world does not bend for whimsy, and your willful obstinacy will only bring dishonor to this house.”
Phoebe frowned, but she did not falter. Every word of her upbringing, every lesson in propriety and poise, guided her.
She held her ground. “I understand the pressures I face. I understand the implications. But I will not betray my own sense of what is right. I must live with integrity, even if it angers you.”
She thought of Sebastian.
What would he say if he could hear me now? How would my words make him feel?
Lord Robyn’s gaze, having watched this exchange with a mixture of impatience and admiration, flicked to Phoebe’s parents, and then back to her.
“Very well,” he said finally, lowering his head in a resigned manner. “Your answer is noted. I see that I have been sent on a fool’s errand for you have a hard heart, Lady Phoebe, and are determined to remain unmoved by my entreaties.”
Phoebe did not know what to say. She did not believe for one second that the gentleman honestly cared for her, and yet he sought to make it seem as if she were the most cold and callous person in the room.
Once again, a vision of Sebastian’s shining face rose in Phoebe’s mind’s eye, and that image gave her the courage to speak boldly once more.
“I thank you for your time, my lord.” She dropped into a stiff curtsey. “I wish you well in all your endeavors.”
The young gentleman inclined his head, acknowledging her words, and without another comment, he turned and left the room. The click of his boots against the polished floor lingered in the sudden silence, a reminder of the gravity of her defiance.
Then her parents’ outrage broke like a wave.
“Ungrateful!” her mother hissed, voice sharp as shattered glass. “Disgraceful! Do you realize what you have done, Phoebe? You will never learn! You owe us everything!”
Her father’s face was red, tight with fury.
“Do you have any understanding of what you are risking? The scandal, the embarrassment… you dare insult a man of Lord Robyn’s consequence?
A man who could secure your future? Do you know that his father has an estate that is worth more than twenty thousand a year? ”
Phoebe felt the familiar ache of fear and pressure press against her chest, but she squared her shoulders and held her ground. She inhaled slowly, letting the words settle in her mind before she spoke
“I understand the expectations placed upon me. I understand the obligations you and Father have worked so tirelessly to fulfill.” She paused and touched the spot on her chest where her grandfather’s pendant should have hung.
She could not forget or forgive what her parents had done by selling the necklace.
“However, I cannot bring myself to feel grateful.”