She stood up from the settee. Oliver also rose. Before she could leave, he reached for her hand, raised it up, and gently pressed his lips to her fingers. His heart accelerated even faster. He let go of her hand and bowed. “Until tomorrow, Miss Windham. I will dream of you tonight.”
Miss Windham blushed a charming shade of pink. She curtsied and whispered, “Good night, Your Grace.”
After she left the room and the door closed again for privacy, Mrs. Dove-Lyon said, “Well, what do you think?”
When he had first stepped into the room and saw the beautiful young lady turn and look at him, his heart stopped. Recognition was instant. How could he forget the auburn hair, curious green eyes, and lovely features that made up the most gorgeous and memorable face he’d ever encountered? He’d pictured her face for the past fortnight. It was also a face he thought he’d never see again. No lady he’d ever met, though to be honest, they hadn’t actually met, had ever had such an impact on him. It was as though they were destined to meet.
Learning that she was Greenwich’s niece had startled and pleased him. And their treatment of her would not go unpunished. Someday, when Greenwich needed something from him, and Oliver would make sure he did, he would refuse. Nobody treated his future duchess like that, even if they didn’t know at the time that she was. The way they’d kept their niece a prisoner in their home spoke volumes about their true selves.
Once they wed, and he was certain they would, he would protect her from them. She would never have to see them again if she didn’t want to. As to Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s question, he replied, “You have done well. I would wed her tomorrow if she agreed. However, I understand that she needs time. When I visited Greenwich House for tea, hoping to court the eldest daughter, Lady Emma, there was no mention of a niece living with them. That makes me believe they never planned to do right by her. Their own flesh and blood. I will never understand the inner workings of some people’s minds.”
“I agree with you on that. As for the eldest daughter, Lady Emma, she brought Miss Windham to me. The two of them snuck out at night, hired a hack, and came to see me. That took bravery to another level. Lady Emma is a kind and loyal lady. I hope she makes a good match soon. She was willing to risk her reputation to help her cousin, and I admire her for it. She clearly doesn’t take after her parents.”
Oliver snorted, “No. She doesn’t. She was most apologetic for her mother’s behavior at tea. Her younger sisters have their mother’s personality. Good luck to the gentlemen who marry them.”
“I must say I witnessed an instant connection and an attraction between you two. I have high hopes you will make a wonderful couple.” She looked at him, or at least he believed she did, and said, “Don’t disappoint me.”
“I will do everything I can to get Miss Windham to marry me.”
“See that you do. Which reminds me, if my clients do not marry at once, I require both of them to keep me posted on the progress of the courtship. For Miss Windham, a note every few days will suffice. For you, I expect you here in two nights with news.”
He stood and bowed, hoping she didn’t expect to hear any intimate details. “Thank you. I will be here.”
He didn’t stay to gamble. It was never his vice. Before he left, though, he entered the main gambling hall and glanced around at all the players. His eyes met Lord Greenwich’s, and the hairs on the back of his neck rose. Greenwich nodded and went back to his cards. How strange to think he was at the Lyon’s Den while they were discussing him, his wife, and his niece. Having seen enough, he left, mumbled, “To White’s,” to his driver, and climbed into the carriage, waving off any help from his footman.
When he arrived at White’s, he ignored all the gentlemen inside the establishment and went to his favorite table and chair and ordered a brandy. He had hoped Hudson would be there. He wanted to discuss Miss Windham and the dinner he hoped to convince him to hold. After waiting a very long half hour with no sighting of Hudson, he left feeling the weight of a horse on his chest. He couldn’t explain why. Tonight was a huge success. And now that he had met Miss Windham properly, he couldn’t imagine marrying anyone else. Mrs. Dove-Lyon deserved a bonus. Still, something nagged at his mind.
The ride home in his carriage couldn’t end quickly enough. And when it did, he practically threw his gloves and hat at his butler and ran up the stairs to his chambers, where he promptly prepared for bed with his valet’s help and then lay in his large bed with visions of Miss Phoebe Windham in his head. Phoebe. He loved her name and couldn’t wait to call her his.
***
After Weston and Miss Windham left, Bessie approached the observation window, opened the curtains and watched the goings-on. Her hunch was correct that Lord Greenwich was inattendance. He gambled here several nights a week. Sometimes he was up, then down, but lately he’d been losing. If he didn’t allow this match, she would use that to her advantage.
After her spies had dug into Miss Windham and her family, she uncovered the truth about her father and his gambling addiction. By her recollection, he’d never visited her establishment, which was a relief. She’d hate to think she’d had a hand in Miss Windham’s bad fortune. What she did find out, and didn’t condone, was that Lord Greenwich had stopped paying his brother’s yearly income many years earlier. The greedy blackguard had kept the income left to his brother in their father’s will, and let his brother’s wife and daughter live in squalor. Whether his brother would’ve gambled the money away didn’t matter; what mattered was that he had contributed to their lack of funds, proper housing, food, and clothing.
Bessie wondered whether Miss Windham was entitled to the money withheld from her father. She would be sure to look into it with her lawyer. Miss Windham could very well be a wealthy young lady. She hated it when people were swindled out of what they were due. There was something else that bothered Bessie. Why had Miss Windham’s mother’s family, the Marquess and Marchioness of Burton, not helped their daughter and granddaughter? A little digging into them was in order.
But all in all, Bessie was pleased with tonight’s outcome. She was happily surprised to learn that the duke and Miss Windham hadn’t exactly met but had seen each other, which was a win for her in making the match. Her observation of the two of them on the settee together was hopeful. Several times, Miss Windham blushed, and Bessie found her looking at him when she thought he wasn’t looking. One time, she swore Miss Windham was going to touch him in comfort.
As for the duke, he appeared amused when he first laid eyes on her. Then protective when he found out she was beingheld hostage inside Greenwich House. She inhaled and exhaled with a smile. It was too soon to celebrate her matchmaking skills once again, but she believed she could hear wedding bells ringing in the distance.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Phoebe’s ride home in Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s carriage had her fidgeting on the seat. Every emotion one could feel swirled inside her head, making it hard to sit still. The things she had told the duke left her awash in mortification. The man was a duke, raised in privilege; she could only imagine what he thought when he heard her sob story. He had said that he pitied her, and that he thought she wouldn’t want that. He was right to think so. She didn’t want his pity. But what did she want?
The answer was both simple and complicated. It would not be a hardship to wake each day and see his handsome face, to be the beneficiary of his kindness, compassion, and generosity. Except perhaps there was another side to him? Her father had two sides. Her aunt certainly did. The side she showed Phoebe and the side she showed her daughters and Fluffy. Was everything he said tonight pretend? Did he hide secrets? Was he hiding his responsibility for his three wives’ deaths? Her intuition told her no, and she would trust it for now.Yet she had opened her wounds from her past to him, while he did not. Would he tell her about his wives? She wanted to know if he loved them. She had heard the gossip, but she wanted to hear the truth from him.
How jumbled her mind was about the duke. He was a dark, brooding, sometimes amusing enigma, with light shining from within. And for some unfathomable reason, she wanted to know him better. She wanted him to hold her in his strong, safe arms and never let her go. The thought made her body warm. When he brushed his lips across her gloved fingers, she felt the heated connection straight to her heart. She knew more about what happened between a man and a woman than most innocents, because of where she’d lived for the past thirteen years. She’d witnessed men take women who sold their bodieson the streets. She understood what went where. What she didn’t understand was how it could be enjoyable.
All she’d ever seen was a woman pushed up against a wall face-first, a man pulling up her skirts, opening his trousers, and exposing his manhood, which then disappeared inside her. Then he pushed against her behind, some longer than others, making grunts and groans as if he were in pain. Was he in pain? If so, why would he keep doing it? It didn’t sound enjoyable to Phoebe, and when she did marry, if she married the duke, she hoped there was more to coupling than what she’d seen on the seedier streets of London.
Perhaps Emma knew more than she did. She’d make a point of asking her. She laughed aloud at the idea of that conversation. Emma, with her sheltered life, would know less than Phoebe did.
When the carriage pulled up two townhouses down from Greenwich House, Puck opened the door and helped her out. “Let’s be quick about this. I don’t want you to be seen,” he said, and they hurried to the servants’ entrance. Phoebe sighed with relief as the knob turned, and she slipped inside without a backward glance at Puck. He would already be hurrying away.
“Thank goodness you’re back,” Emma said, standing in the kitchen, looking worried.
“What has happened?” Phoebe asked, her heart pounding in panic.
