CHAPTER EIGHT #2
The young footman knocked and opened the door. “In here.”
Without acknowledging what he said, she took a deep breath and entered her uncle’s study, a dark room, the paneling and furniture all in dark wood. The only light in the room filtered through the sheer panels on the two large windows.
“Take a seat, Phoebe.”
Her knees suddenly weakened, and she sank into the chair closest to the door.
She was surprised she had made it that far without collapsing to the ground in a heap of green fabric.
Waiting for her uncle to speak, she clasped her hands in her lap and kept her head down, afraid to read his expression.
“You must be wondering why I summoned you this morning.”
She forced her head up and looked him straight in the eye. His expression gave nothing away. “Yes, I am.” Relax. Don’t let him see you nervous.
“To my surprise, I received a note from the Duke of Weston this morning asking to call on you today.” He narrowed his eyes and stared at her. “Do you know him?”
“No, I don’t believe so.”
“Well, he says he had a lovely conversation with you when he visited for tea a fortnight ago with Lady Greenwich and my daughters.” He stared even more intently. “Now do you remember him?”
“I did speak to the gentleman Emma called the Duke of Doom that day when he got lost looking for the entryway. I didn’t know his correct name, but I suppose I do know him, if only briefly.”
“Well, you must have made an impression. Or more likely, he is desperate, since he has become a pariah within the ton. You see, he needs to marry and produce an heir. He must have thought you would do.” He coughed and cleared his throat.
The sound almost made her gag. “Since Lady Greenwich refused his suit for one of our daughters, I will allow this. I would advise you to do whatever you must to make the match, as it’s far and away the best chance you’re ever likely to be offered.
” He sighed, almost to himself. “Then Lady Greenwich will stop hounding me about the cost of your presence in this home.”
Her mouth opened as she tried to speak, but she wisely closed it and nodded, whispering, “Yes, Uncle.”
“You should call me Lord Greenwich.”
“Yes, Lord Greenwich,” she mumbled.
“You may go.”
She stood and left the study as fast as her legs could move.
When she was outside the closed door, she noticed the hall was empty.
She leaned against the wall, hugged herself, and silently let the tears flow.
What had she ever done to warrant such treatment from her uncle and aunt?
Just being born and existing, no doubt, was enough.
He cared so little for her. How badly had he hated her father?
Had that hatred led her father to gamble? Would she ever know the truth?
“Phoebe,” Emma said as she approached. So entranced by her thoughts and tears, she hadn’t seen or heard Emma approach. “What’s the matter?”
She wiped away her tears and began walking. “Nothing. Your father agreed to let the duke call on me today.”
“But that is good news.”
“Yes, I’m just a bit overwhelmed by all the changes in my life lately. Can Maggie do my hair?”
“Of course. I’ll send her to your room at three.”
By then, they were at her chamber door, and Emma took Phoebe’s hands in hers. “Don’t worry. I’ll be with you the whole time. Be yourself, and the duke will fall madly in love with you.”
“I don’t need his love. I just need us to like each other enough to marry.”
Emma squeezed her hands, then let them go. “You will. Now go, read, relax, and daydream about your handsome duke in shining armor who has come to rescue you from the tower.”
Phoebe laughed. “Thank you for your friendship. You have made being here bearable.”
“Same for me. In case you haven’t noticed, my sisters and I don’t do sisterly things.
They have each other, and I’m the black sheep.
I don’t mind. They take after Mother. Not very kind or compassionate.
I’d rather be the outcast sister with you as my cousin and friend any day.
I just hope I marry soon so we can see each other anytime we want without Mother’s interference.
We’ll be ladies of our own houses. We need never see Mother or my unkind sisters again. ”
She pulled Emma into a hug. “I’m sorry. If I marry the duke, I’ll ask whether he has any unmarried friends.”
“Then I must make sure you marry the duke so you can find me a husband and free me from this place. I’d better go back to the drawing room before Mother wonders where I’ve gone. I’ll see you at tea.”
“Yes.” Phoebe stood in the hall and watched Emma.
Not that she knew anything about the leisurely life of the ton, but she’d heard from her mother that they spent their days making social calls and their evenings at one social event or another.
It seemed odd that her aunt and uncle rarely left the house.
Since she’d been here, she didn’t think they’d attended a single ball.
Something to ask Emma about. For now, she entered her room, picked up her mother’s book of poems by Lord Byron, and sat on the bench at the foot of the bed to read.
She’d read it so many times that she could recite the poems by heart.
Still, it soothed her and made her feel close to her mother.
A few hours later, she went to the kitchens for luncheon and found her stomach in knots, so she only picked at her food. Back in her room, she removed her green dress, smoothed out the wrinkles, and hung it up. She didn’t want to cause any more wrinkles and be unable to wear it for the duke.
She climbed into bed and forced herself to rest. It wasn’t easy. Her entire body vibrated with excitement. A duke was calling on her today. Never in her wildest dreams had she thought such a thing would happen to her.