“Are you?”
He chuckled again, “If I am, you’d best leave this room right now, because I mean to marry you, Miss Windham.”
“Marry me?” she murmured, feeling lightheaded as her heart pounded.
“Is that not why you are here?” he asked, sounding disappointed.
Before she could answer, Mrs. Dove-Lyon interrupted. “Your Grace, perhaps meeting you and learning who you are has overwhelmed Miss Windham. Perhaps you could give us a moment?”
“Very well,” he said, standing and leaving the room, shutting the door behind him.
“Are you feeling unwell, Miss Windham?” Mrs. Dove-Lyon asked.
Phoebe shook her head, as much to answer as to clear her head. “I was shocked, that’s all. First, to find out it was him, the handsome duke I’d seen at my uncle’s house, and then shocked again when he said he meant to marry me. I know that’s why I came to you, but it all seems so sudden.”
“You don’t have to marry him. Get to know him first. If he is the one for you, you will know soon enough. If he isn’t, I will find someone else for you. Do not fret. You need not do anything you don’t want to, including marrying the duke. Are you ready for me to let him back in?”
Not really, but she could hardly say that. “Yes.” The thought of marrying the duke was both thrilling and terrifying. When she’d stared at him through the doorway at Greenwich House, heat had blanketed her entire body. It was the same now. This gentleman affected her so strangely that she was torn between running into his arms and never letting go, and running the other way for fear of the unknown feelings surging through her entire being.
Mrs. Dove-Lyon didn’t get up; she called from her seat, “Come back in, Your Grace.”
Phoebe’s eyes were riveted on the duke, dressed in black-and-grey riding clothes, as he entered the room and strode toward the settee, his gaze weary. This time, when he sat down, he made sure they didn’t touch, and that saddened her. Had she ruined things between them?
“Your Grace,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon said. “Miss Windham has agreed to proceed with a courtship to determine whether you two will suit and to hope that it will lead to marriage. Is that acceptable to you?”
“Yes,” he said, clearly relieved as he looked at her and grinned. His eyes were less weary and more hopeful.
Butterflies took flight in her stomach. The Duke of Weston wanted to court her? What would she say to her aunt and uncle? How would she explain how they met? Or would they refuse, since her aunt had refused to consent to his courting any of her daughters? What was she thinking? Her aunt would probably throw her at him to remove her from Greenwich House, no doubt hoping the curse was true and that she would die a tragic death, no longer an embarrassment to the family name.
“What about my uncle and aunt?” she asked. “They practically keep me prisoner in their home.”
***
“What?” Oliver bellowed, hoping he had heard wrong.
“Calm down, Your Grace,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon said. “I will give you two some privacy in a moment, so Miss Windham can share her past with you. But for now, I believe we need a plausible story to explain how you two met.”
He cleared his throat and said, “I have the perfect solution. I will send a note to Lord Greenwich stating my intention to court Miss Windham. I will explain how we met at tea, when I became separated from their footman, my fault entirely, and got lost, looking for the entrance. We talked briefly, and I haven’t been able to get her out of my mind since. How can he refuse? He owes me for the tantrum Lady Greenwich threw when I asked to court her eldest daughter after he agreed to allow it.”
“Let us hope this works. Don’t give Lord Greenwich any choice but to agree. And if he gives you trouble, I will find a solution,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon said. “And if it comes down to it, youcan get a special license and marry straight away. I will excuse myself and allow Miss Windham to explain her past, and for you two to get better acquainted.”
When the door closed behind the Black Widow of Whitehall, Oliver took a deep breath and turned to Miss Windham. “If it’s uncomfortable for you to share with me tonight, I will understand.”
She looked at him with turbulent green eyes, and his stomach knotted up tight, making him wonder what her upbringing had been like.
“If we are to court, and hopefully marry,” she said, her voice soft and trembling, “then you should understand my past circumstances. You may find I’m a poor match for you, and there’s no need to begin a courtship.” The emotional depth in her eyes pulled him in, and he couldn’t look away. He may not yet understand her pain, but he already knew he would do anything to see it eased and replaced by happiness.
Miss Phoebe Windham told the story of her life. At times, she fought back her tears, and at other times, anger flashed in her eyes. But as the story unfolded, his heart ached more for her. How the bad decisions of her father had changed the trajectory of her life. How deeply saddened he was to hear of her mother’s death and her father’s abandonment. He wanted to hunt him down and drag him back to England to face his creditors. And never mind what he wanted to do to Lord and Lady Greenwich. According to Miss Windham, she didn’t believe her uncle was aware of her aunt’s unkind treatment of her or the fact that her aunt had put her in the attic. But as for Lady Greenwich, a lady with no heart, he would think of how he could make her pay for Miss Windham’s treatment. He was glad to hear Lady Emma was on her side.
“Thanks to my mother, I can read and write. I can sew and do needlepoint. I can clean and cook and oh, dance a little,though not well enough to do so in public,” she said with a sigh. “Now you know all my dirty secrets. I would make a terrible duchess, so I understand if you bow out.” Her small, delicate hand patted her gloriously thick auburn hair. “I believe that is all I have to say.”
Nothing she had said had convinced him to walk away. If anything, he was more determined than ever to stay the course of courting her and marrying her. But he would proceed carefully. On the surface, she was strong and fearless, but inside was a trapped, frightened young woman. One who’d been hurt most by those who should’ve kept her safe. Her mother had been her one and only source of love and affection. Everyone else in her life, except Lady Emma, had let her down. He would see to it that that changed. He promised to be the gentleman she deserved and to put her above all others. He just needed to convince her.
He reached for one of her hands and held it in both of his. His eyes never left her uncertain ones as he said, “Thank you for sharing your story with me and for trusting me with it. You are a proud young lady, and I know you don’t want my pity, but you have it, nonetheless. You also have my admiration for enduring the heartaches you have suffered. But that is all in the past. From this night on, let us look to a better future. A future where we can become acquainted, help each other overcome the sadness of our pasts, and forge a new life together with understanding, friendship, and perhaps,” he cleared his throat, “a bit of love.”
Thankfully, Mrs. Dove-Lyon entered the room at that exact moment because he was suddenly at a loss for words after using the wordlove. When he uttered “A bit of love,” Miss Windham’s eyes widened. Feeling very vulnerable himself, Oliver didn’t know what to think, except that he believed he was already half in love with her. Since he had seen her at Greenwich House, he hadn’t been able to get her lovely face out of his mind.The memory made his heart speed up. What would happen when he got to know her even better? It was something he was most anxiously awaiting.
“If you two have concluded your conversation, Puck will see you home now, Miss Windham. His Grace will speak with your uncle tomorrow, and you should be prepared for his visit during afternoon calling hours.”
