He looked torn between amusement and annoyance. Phoebe would take it.
“Please,” she said, gesturing to the seat across from her, “would you join me?”
He looked as though he intended to refuse, though he ultimately hesitated only a moment before taking the place she’d indicated. He wore a calculating expression, like he was preparing for war.
“Do they always leave you with the dirty work, Miss Turner?” he asked, and she flinched. This was no shot over the bow, no mere warning.
War it was, indeed.
She didn’t bother pretending. She would have to keep those reserves when she was asking for favors, after all.
“I practically chased them from the room,” she returned. “Well, with my father, it was more of a happy accident, but I’m hardly sorry for the chance to speak with you alone.” She tried to look calm and in control as she continued. “Things have changed.”
“Hm.”
Ooh, he was good at this game, wasn’t he? That one syllable was designed to give her just enough rope to hang herself… or at least to give him time to figure out what was happening. It was possible that she was getting too wrapped up in this whole ‘war hero’ bit.
She was remarkably tired of playing games.
“Listen,” she said, leaning forward in her seat, “I’m going to speak plainly. My sister is no longer available. I know this is not what you expected, but I nevertheless expect that it will not be too big a blow for you as you have only exchanged—what would you say it is, eight words with her? I daresay any bruising to your heart will fade quickly enough.”
She nodded to punctuate this, then sat back decisively against the settee.
The Duke looked far less moved by this speech than she might have hoped. Phoebe supposed she had rather fallen short of the begging that she’d planned.
“You do rather mistake me, Miss Turner,” he said after a long moment. “I have not arranged to marry your sister because of anything to do with myheart. I made a deal. Your father agreed. I needed to marry. He offered a bride. It was as simple as that.”
“If you merely needabride,” Phoebe countered, “then you should not be too troubled to find another. You’re a duke. I’m sure you can manage it.”
“As flattered as I am regarding your estimation of my charms,” he said, tone of voice completely flat, “I do not think myself poised to secure another bride in the two days between now and the wedding.”
“Two days?” A cooler head, Phoebe realized a moment too late, might have tried to make it seem as though she already knew about this deadline, but she was too surprised.
The Duke’s lips twitched.
“Your father didn’t mention that, did he? What was it you were saying about your family not abandoning you to the hard tasks?”
“You are,” Phoebe said, “extremely difficult to like.”
The Duke spread his hands, apparently unaffected by the insult.
“You see my position, then,” he said. “I might have a title and a fortune, but I am nevertheless not considered a catch by theton. I seek to repair my… rough reputation. To do so, I must marry. I will not have a cancelled wedding contributing to the way people speak about me and my family.”
There was something in this explanation that Phoebe was missing. She knew it, just as she could tell, somehow, that he was being straight with her. His story was what he said it was—it just wasn’tonlywhat he said it was.
She didn’t like her odds, but she tried anyway.
“And why do you care about repairing your reputation?” she asked.
A muscle in his cheek twitched, but there was the faintest hint of humor in the set of his mouth.Good try, that expression seemed to say.
“That, Miss Turner, is far beyond your purview. Here is everything that you need to know.” He folded his hands in his lap, and Phoebe wondered if this was what men felt like when they were bartering over business interests.
“I am going to be married in two days. If your family is the reason that this does not happen, you will have made an enemy of me. And as I’m sure you know, making an enemy of me is to make an enemy of one of the most powerful and far-reaching families in England. Your sister’s name will be inexorably linked with scandal. Yours, too, I would imagine. Make of that what you will.”
He settled into his own chair and gave her time to think.
Phoebe peered at his face for any hint that he might be bluffing and found none. She supposed that came from having all the power in a situation. Why would he need bluster or bravado when he had authority, money, and a legendary name standing at his back?
