Her father scoffed as though Phoebe was missing the point so desperately that it didn’t even merit a response.
“You are not going to marry a viscount,” he said to Hannah. “You are going to marry a duke. The Duke of Redcliff. It’s already been arranged.”
Hannah’s poutalsolooked like a child being denied a treat. Phoebe was so glad they were discussing a topic as serious as her sister’s marriage withsucha level of maturity.
“But I love Lyle,” she said in a very small voice.
The Viscount’s scoff was louder and harsher this time. “Love,” he said dismissively. “Love is a fairy tale for children, Hannah. You are not a child. You are going to love for the betterment of this family, not for some sort of ridiculous little whim. Do you hear me?”
There was a long, pregnant pause. This was the point where Hannah usually gave in to their father’s demands, unless Phoebe intervened on her behalf.
And Phoebe almost did say something, as she watched the distress cross Hannah’s face. But before she could intervene, Hannah squared her shoulders.
“I will not marry the Duke,” she said firmly. Her expression wavered a bit, and her voice was a great deal smaller when she added, “I can’t.”
Phoebe felt her face go as pale as Hannah’s as the meaning of this set in.
Lord Turner took longer to take in his daughter’s meaning.
“Of course, you can,” he said dismissively. “I’ve already done all the hard parts for you. You only have the easy bit left. You walk down the aisle and keep your mouth shut until the bishop tells you what to say. Couldn’t be simpler.”
“Father…” Phoebe said.
“Don’t interrupt, Phoebe! Your sister just needs to understand?—”
He broke off ashefinally understood.
There was a long, long silence.
“You’ve been compromised,” he said flatly.
Hannah’s eyes were damp with tears as she nodded.
There was one more fraught silence before the explosion.
“You completefool,” he spat, rage contorting his features. “How could you be sostupid,Hannah?”
Phoebe had long since become inured to her father’s insults, but Hannah received them less often, so she flinched at each invective. Phoebe crossed to her to wrap a comforting arm around Hannah’s shoulders, but she feared that any interruption to her father’s tirade would only make it worse.
“To let yourself be compromised?” Lord Turner said, throwing his hands in the air as he paced back and forth. “By aviscount?”
That would be what he focused on, Phoebe thought disgustedly. As if Hannah would have been sensible if only she’d let herself be compromised by someone with a loftier title.
Phoebe had been silent long enough. It was time to try to wrangle this conversation back on track.
Christ, it was exhausting being the sensible one. She wasn’t built for it. She was built for risk-taking and defying expectations.
“And you and Lord Lyle… plan to be married?” she asked as gently as she could.
Hannah nodded so vigorously that she no doubt risked giving herself a headache.
“Yes, yes, of course!” she said, and Phoebe sincerely hoped that her sister’s faith would be rewarded. “He just needs to… manage some things before he approaches you, Father.”
“And why did he notmanagethese things before taking the time to compromise you?” Lord Turner asked acidly, and Phoebehatedthat she was thinking along the same lines as her father.
But he made a good point.
And maybe Hannah knew it, too, because her pout resumed. This iteration was clearly defensive.
