After hanging her day dress and cloak in her wardrobe, she took a night rail from her dresser drawer and slipped it over her head. She used the cool water from the pitcher and basin to wash her face and tooth powder to scrub her teeth. After a quick visit behind the screen to relieve herself, she climbed into bed and snuggled beneath the coverlet with relief. After the emotional ups and downs of that night, she was glad to be safely in bed. She knew she was safe with Mrs. Dove-Lyon and the duke; it was her aunt who worried her. Thinking of the handsome duke made her eyes close as she dreamed of being his duchess.
Morning arrived, and Phoebe sat up in bed, stretching her sore body. Her body still carried the tension from the night before. When she felt better, she climbed out of bed, performed her morning ablutions, then washed up and dressed in the prettiest green day dress that once belonged to Emma. It brought out the color of her eyes. Her hand went to her stomach as it fluttered with excitement at the idea of the duke calling upon her today. She put on her stockings and slippers, combed out her hair, and braided it. She would ask Emma if Maggie could do her hair later.
Entering the kitchen, one hand clutching the bodice of her dress to her chest, she went to the only maid who treated her with any sort of welcome and said, “Can you please lace up my dress, Sophia?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you.” She made a plate from the dishes on the table. Eggs, biscuits, cream, and jam. To her shock, the cook brought her a cup of hot chocolate with an apologetic smile. “Thank you.” Perhaps not all the servants hated her after all.
When she finished eating, she carried her cup, plate, and utensils to the counter. “Thank you for breakfast, Mrs. McCarthy.” As she turned to leave the kitchen, she found a footman frowning.
“Lord Greenwich would like a word with you in his study. I’ll show you the way.”
This was it, she thought as she followed the footman. Her uncle would either take her to task for sneaking out last night, or the Duke of Weston’s note had arrived. She hoped it was the latter. She really didn’t want more tension and unease today. She wanted to attend afternoon tea with her aunt and cousins while the duke paid homage to her. She almost giggled. Who would have thought a duke would want to court her? And not just court her, he said. He wanted to make her his duchess. Now she did giggle. “Apologies,” she mumbled, having no idea if he’d heard her giggles.
The young footman knocked and opened the door. “In here.”
Without acknowledging what he said, she took a deep breath and entered her uncle’s study, a dark room, the paneling and furniture all in dark wood. The only light in the room filtered through the sheer panels on the two large windows.
“Take a seat, Phoebe.”
Her knees suddenly weakened, and she sank into the chair closest to the door. She was surprised she had made it that far without collapsing to the ground in a heap of green fabric. Waiting for her uncle to speak, she clasped her hands in her lap and kept her head down, afraid to read his expression.
“You must be wondering why I summoned you this morning.”
She forced her head up and looked him straight in the eye. His expression gave nothing away. “Yes, I am.” Relax. Don’t let him see you nervous.
“To my surprise, I received a note from the Duke of Weston this morning asking to call on you today.” He narrowed his eyes and stared at her. “Do you know him?”
“No, I don’t believe so.”
“Well, he says he had a lovely conversation with you when he visited for tea a fortnight ago with Lady Greenwich and my daughters.” He stared even more intently. “Now do you remember him?”
“I did speak to the gentleman Emma called the Duke of Doom that day when he got lost looking for the entryway. I didn’t know his correct name, but I suppose I do know him, if only briefly.”
“Well, you must have made an impression. Or more likely, he is desperate, since he has become a pariah within theton. You see, he needs to marry and produce an heir. He must have thought you would do.” He coughed and cleared his throat. The sound almost made her gag. “Since Lady Greenwich refused his suit for one of our daughters, I will allow this. I would advise you to do whatever you must to make the match, as it’s far and away the best chance you’re ever likely to be offered.” He sighed, almost to himself. “Then Lady Greenwich will stop hounding me about the cost of your presence in this home.”
Her mouth opened as she tried to speak, but she wisely closed it and nodded, whispering, “Yes, Uncle.”
“You should call me Lord Greenwich.”
“Yes, Lord Greenwich,” she mumbled.
“You may go.”
She stood and left the study as fast as her legs could move. When she was outside the closed door, she noticed the hall was empty. She leaned against the wall, hugged herself, and silently let the tears flow. What had she ever done to warrant such treatment from her uncle and aunt? Just being born and existing, no doubt, was enough. He cared so little for her. Howbadly had he hated her father? Had that hatred led her father to gamble? Would she ever know the truth?
“Phoebe,” Emma said as she approached. So entranced by her thoughts and tears, she hadn’t seen or heard Emma approach. “What’s the matter?”
She wiped away her tears and began walking. “Nothing. Your father agreed to let the duke call on me today.”
“But that is good news.”
“Yes, I’m just a bit overwhelmed by all the changes in my life lately. Can Maggie do my hair?”
“Of course. I’ll send her to your room at three.”
By then, they were at her chamber door, and Emma took Phoebe’s hands in hers. “Don’t worry. I’ll be with you the whole time. Be yourself, and the duke will fall madly in love with you.”
