Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
The carriage rolled to a halt in front of Phoebe’s family home in London, the lamps casting a golden glow across the cobblestones. Phoebe’s heart thudded against her ribs—not from fear, but from anticipation.
She glanced at Sebastian, whose dark eyes met hers with a quiet, unwavering encouragement. One look from him, and she felt her resolve solidify.
As the carriage door opened, Phoebe alighted and felt a confidence surge through her as she moved forward. Sebastian followed, his hand brushing the small of her back, guiding yet protective.
The front door swung open before they even knocked, and Phoebe’s parents appeared, their faces a mixture of shock and indignation.
“Phoebe!” her mother shrieked, clutching her husband’s arm. “What on earth—?”
“Is that the Duke of Talwyn?” her father demanded, eyes narrowing, jaw tight.
Sebastian’s gaze swept over them, and Phoebe could see a tiny muscle in his jaw twitch. He did not answer immediately, letting the weight of his presence and the sharp cut of his glare speak for itself.
The pair stepped forward in unison so that the Countess and Earl were forced to move aside and allow them to enter Tripleton House.
Once Sebastian had shut the door firmly behind them and they were safely protected from prying eyes and eager eyes in the foyer of the townhouse, Phoebe took a steady breath, lifted her chin, and addressed her parents directly.
“Mother. Father,” she said, her voice firm, “I have returned. And I am not here to be controlled, hidden, or exiled.”
Her mother’s eyes darted to the silver pendant resting at Phoebe’s throat, shining subtly in the light.
“You… you—” she stammered. “You’ve become—”
“The Duke’s mistress,” her father spat, stepping forward with a venomous glare. “Is that it? Is that what this means? Tell us it isn’t!”
Phoebe’s gaze flicked to Sebastian, who placed a hand on her elbow, a subtle anchor. His voice cut through her parents’ accusations, carrying the full weight of his authority.
“That is enough,” he said, stepping forward.
“No more insinuation. You will speak with respect. Phoebe is not here as a mistress, nor will she ever be. She will be my Duchess. And you,” he said softly as his gaze swept over her parents, “you will pay for the cruelty you have shown this remarkable woman. The way you treated her is uncharitable, and you ought to be properly censured by Society. Every insult, every slight… you will answer for them.”
Her mother gasped, clutching her chest. “Your Grace… you dare speak to us thusly?”
“I do more than dare,” Sebastian replied with a hint of revulsion coloring his words.
“I command. You will leave this house and live with the woman I found in Nantwich, the one Phoebe calls Aunt Celia. You will never return to London. Should you disobey, you will face my full wrath. And believe me, you do not want to see what that entails.”
Her father’s face twisted with rage and disbelief. “You will not order us in our own home! Phoebe, defend me! Support your father!”
Phoebe’s gaze met the Earl’s. She felt no pity for him and was compelled to ignore his entreaties.
But then, she decided on a different course.
“No,” she said flatly. “I will not defend your cruelty. You have never treated me as anything other than a burden, so I cannot feel sympathy for you now.”
Sebastian’s hand lifted briefly, and in a swift, precise motion, his fist struck her father squarely in the chest. The blow sent him staggering backward; the breath knocked from him.
Phoebe’s mother screamed, rushing to his side, her hands clutching at him hysterically.
Sebastian did not raise his voice, but the power behind his presence filled the room.
“He has had it coming for a long time,” he said simply. “And I will not allow him, or you, to harm the woman I love any longer.”
Phoebe stepped forward, placing a hand lightly on his arm. “You didn’t have to strike him,” she said softly, chiding him for his impulsive behavior.
He gave her a brief, dark smile, then stepped back, letting Phoebe stand alone in front of her parents.
Turning to her mother and father, Phoebe said in the gentlest voice she could manage, “I hope that one day, the two of you can be a family, a proper one. But you have a long way to go. Until then, I will live my life as I choose. And Sebastian will be by my side.”
Her parents could only gape, broken and silenced, as Phoebe took Sebastian’s hand. Together, they turned and exited the house. The night air felt sweet, liberating, as if the city itself exhaled its relief with her.
The carriage awaited silently at the curb. As they climbed inside, Sebastian’s hand found hers, fingers interlacing with a gentle squeeze. Phoebe leaned back against the cushions; her heart still racing, yet full, and brimming with quiet triumph.
Outside, the streets of London stretched on, and for the first time, Phoebe felt entirely free.