“So?” Hannah retorted. Phoebe slumped back in her seat, finding herself extraneous to the conversation. She wanted to protect Hannah, but Hannah did not, at present, seem interested in that protection. “Shedoesn’t even believe in love. Makeherbe the one to marry for—for whatever reason you have.”
“I beg your pardon!” Phoebe interjected. Just because she didn’t believe in romantic love—since she would have to trust a man to love him, and she would never, ever trust a man—didn’t mean she didn’t believe in the concept broadly. She loved Hannah a great deal! Even when Hannah was being as wretched as she was now!
Both her sister and her father ignored Phoebe’s outburst.
“Love is nothing,” her father scoffed. “This is an advantageous marriage. You should be pleased.”
“I wanted to marry for love!” Hannah cried.
Their father just made a derisive sound in the back of his throat, but there was something in Hannah’s tone that made Phoebe pause.
“Hannah,” she ventured, “is there… someone who has caught your eye?”
“It doesn’t matter,” their father insisted, sounding harried. He had apparently realized that the flip side of trapping his daughters in a carriage to have this conversation was that he had also trappedhimselfin the carriage with them. It rather undercut his usual argumentative strategy of making a proclamation and then stalking from the room.
“She’s going to marry the Duke of Redcliff. If she fancies someone else, she’ll merely have to stop fancying him.”
He said it as though this were so simple, and Phoebe supposed that, for him, it was.
“That’s not it,” Hannah said defensively. Something about the words made Phoebe feel even more uncertain, but she wasn’t about to press the issue with their father present. But maybe it was just as simple as Hannah not wanting to marry a stranger.
“Then there’s no problem,” Lord Turner said decisively.
“Yes, there is!” Hannah retorted.
“Maybethere is,” Phoebe tried. She felt like she was a wheel on the carriage—going around and around and around. “He might be perfectly nice.”
Hannah snorted, which was fair enough. Phoebe had never found a manperfectly nicein all her life.
“Maybe you can have a long engagement?” Phoebe ventured more cautiously. “Get to know one another.”
“No,” said their father. “It will be a Christmas wedding.”
“What?” It came as another unified yelp from the girls. It was already December.
“There’s no reason to wait,” Lord Turner said calmly. He seemed to really believe this. “You’ve already had two Seasons, Hannah. If you were going to marry of your own accord, you already would have done so. I shan’t have another Phoebe in this family. Now cease this pointless quarrelling. We’ve nearly arrived.”
Phoebe looked out the window of the carriage. At some point, while they’d been quarrelling, snow had started to fall. A gentle dusting already covered the ground. In the distance, a house was lit with candles in the windows. Instead of seeing the light as welcoming, however, Phoebe couldn’t help but see it as foreboding, like the way a lighthouse warned ships away from crashing into the shore.
Even so, this foolish argument had gone on long enough. They were here, now, and there was nothing to do but make the best of things. And not just for the sake of Hannah’s reputation but because the snow was growing thicker by the minute. There would be no more traveling tonight, not even if the Duke proved every bit as intimidating as the legend around him implied.
So, she did something she hated.
She put a cheerful face on things, even as the wordsdon’t performrang in her head.
“Well, let’s try our best, shall we?” she ventured, the words tasting like acid on her tongue. “Perhaps this family shall finally have something to celebrate for Christmas after all.”
Phoebe didn’t know why she bothered trying. Her efforts to smooth things over were lost in the face of her father’s ire.
“I hope you enjoy this Christmas to its fullest, Phoebe,” he said with a kind of snideness that said he did not hope this for her at all. “Because after your little… indiscretion, you will be lucky if you ever circulate in Society again. You had best enjoy your sister’s matrimonial celebrations while you can. Because for you? They will be your very last.”
CHAPTER 2
The wait outside the Duke’s house as they disembarked was, in Phoebe’s opinion, excessively long. Inconsiderately long, given the weather. She looked back up at the line of staff waiting to escort them inside. Their faces were exceedingly impassive.
A footman was there to hand them down from the carriage, which was good, as Phoebe suspected her father would have preferred to shove her directly into the snow than offer her a helping hand.
She did notice, however, that there wasonlystaff to greet them. Well, wasn’t that nice? What a warm welcome.
