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That cry of adoration lingered in Phoebe’s thoughts. She felt stupid and hopeful, as she waited, her heart beating for him to sign something…anything. Silence lingered, and his fingers did not move to caress, reassure, or return any sort of sentiments. Her belly went hollow, and the fact she told him she loved him felt unforgivable. It made no sense to lay her heart bare to a man who would never return her love. If only she did not desperately wish he would love her in return. When had she started to dream of that again? Of a man who would love her with every emotion in his heart and soul? Phoebe suspected that dream had started the very first time he kissed her.
He pulled from her, and she whimpered at the ache between her legs. Gently, he helped her to stand, her legs wobbled, and she laughed.
“I think, my lord, we almost killed each other,” she said softly, peering up at him.
Phoebe’s heart squeezed at the frightful look of indifference in his gaze, as if what they had just shared was ordinary. She reached up to cup his jaw, and he caught her hand and slowly lowered it to her side. A cold knot formed in Phoebe’s stomach. He padded away to the wash basin and returned with a washcloth to tenderly clean her. She watched him in silence as he removed her stockings, garters, and slippers. When he was finished, he went over to the washbasin and started to tidy himself. Padding over to the armoire, she took out a nightgown and slipped it on then made her way over to the bed, climbed up, and sat in the center.
Soon, he outed the lamp and slid into the bed. He did not take her into his arms as he usually did, and Phoebe sat there in the dark, her heart jerking. Something had changed. She fought hard against the tears she refused to let fall.
“I did not betray you,” she said softly into the darkness. “Never once did I think of leaving, and if the viscount had not drugged and taken me away, I would still be in Scotland with you and Franny.”
Silence lingered, and her breath rose and fell unevenly.
“I would never leave because you are my family…and I…I love you…so very much.”
More silence. Of course, she would not see if he signed in the dark. Though she suspected he had not shifted at all, she could feel the potency of his stare on her, as if he could see her clearly. She was bewildered by his demeanor and could not understand why he had retreated to the aloof gentleman he had appeared to be when they had just met. When he made no move, she shimmied down and lay on her side, unable to understand the raw ache that was suffusing her heart.
He moved, and she closed her eyes as he slid his arm around her shoulder and drew her into the curve of his arms. A soft breath caressed her forehead, and she sensed he lowered to kiss her there, as he did each night before they slept. Phoebe held her breath waiting for that kiss, but then his breath vanished. He had changed his mind.
There was a rustle as he drew the thick coverlet over their bodies. They lay in the darkness, each unable to sleep. Though his chest rose and fell evenly, she knew he was awake. So many questions swirled in her mind; so many anxieties burrowed in her heart.
“Why does it feel different between us?” she whispered.
Nothing indicated that he heard her soft entreaty. She recalled the old earl warning that Hugh was not a man given to sentimentality. Yet before this trip to London, she had felt certain he held great affection for her in his heart, and she was so certain they had been fated to meet and have a grand love despite their rocky beginning. Am I just a naïve, silly girl? Her throat burned with supressed tears at the notion of losing a love she had felt blooming between them.
Do not be silly, she warned herself fiercely. You knew from the beginning he did not believe in love and that you should have no expectation of it in this marriage of convenience. A stubborn tear leaked from her eyes, and she gently wiped it away. Oh, but I want it so very much. And when something was worth fighting for, she would not shy away from doing so. Her reckless, impetuous spirit surged, and she twisted in the cage of his arms, to encounter a gleam of brilliant blue in the darkness.
You are awake, she silently said. What thoughts keep you from sleep? Are they the same as mine?
Phoebe wasn’t certain how long she stared into the faint shimmering silk of the overhead canopy before the darkness of sleep lured her away from her tormenting thoughts.
Chapter Eighteen
The next day, Phoebe called upon her brother to bid him adieu. The duke was still away on a trip to Italy, so she had been spared meeting him on this trip. Not that she was at all anxious about a confrontation with her father. Phoebe suspected it was the annual trip he took there with his mistress. It was always under the pretext of meeting business investors, but she had been able to tell because the duchess would spend each night at a ball as if to distract herself from the knowledge that her husband was with another woman. Often, Phoebe wondered if the duchess had a similar discreet arrangement.
She had left a note at home for Hugh, and once he finished his meeting with his man of affairs, he would pay a visit to Richard. She knocked on the library door and opened it, smiling at the sight of Evie and her brother locked in a passionate embrace.
Evie pulled away and patted her elegant coiffeur, a delightful blush on her lovely face.
“I shall leave you both alone,” she said, with a wide smile at Phoebe. “When your lord arrives, I will insist that he stay for dinner. I will go and organize the menu now.”
Phoebe nodded, and soon she was alone with Richard.
“I admit when I saw Lord Albury last night staring at you, I did not gather h
e was your husband, but a scoundrel I would have to teach a painful lesson,” he said by way of greeting.
She hurried over to sit on the sofa. “How was he looking at me? By any chance, the way you normally stare at Evie?”
Richard cast her a surprised glance, and before he could reply, Viscount Malfoy entered the library without knocking, looking a bit angry and anxious. A state Phoebe thought unique to the man.
Richard lowered his drink, and he dealt his friend a questioning stare. “What is it, man? I’ve never seen you appeared so rattled.”
“Something strange is happening,” the Sparrow said tightly, walking over to the mantle to pour himself a glass of brandy, which he swallowed in one long drink.
“What?”
“This morning I was paid an early morning call by my banker. Someone has bought my debts. Then my solicitor came around only minutes later, informing me those debts were called in. It is even worse. Three investments that I’ve made, ones that you recommended, I was suddenly closed out of.” A harsh bark of laugh escaped the viscount. “I set out about town to try and find out what the hell is happening. I sent my connections in the underworld to discover any information, and the word that came back to me is that I have grievously wronged someone who is powerfully wealthy to make the world turn at his commands. Rubbish, if you ask me, but upon returning to my townhouse, I’ve discovered someone bought the damn townhouse I was letting, and I no longer have a home.”
