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She purposely avoided his gaze as she continued eating and drinking as if he was nothing more than yet another rosebush who just happened to take the seat opposite her.

“Why are you behaving like this?” he asked her, incensed.

Phoebe affected a look of surprise. Was he really asking herwhy?

“Well, I thought that you…” she trailed off.

How was she supposed to tell him that sheknewhe could never be satisfied with her alone in his bed? That the thought of it gnawed and clawed at her heart until she had to put a hand on her chest to see if she was truly bleeding or not?

But from the look of dawning horror on his face, she knew he had already come to that conclusion as well.

“You thought that I had gone to see another woman?” he exclaimed furiously. “After our first night together?” He stood up and began pacing in front of her. “You keep telling me that you want arealmarriage—none of the farce the whole ton insists on having—but thenyouare the one with such little faith in me!”

Phoebe looked at him in surprise. “You… were not with another woman?”

“Dammit, Phoebe! I am not the monster you think I am!”

She jumped up to her feet and looked at him reproachfully. “Need I remind you thatyouwere the one who invited me to become your mistress during your ownwedding?”

She let out a slight squeak when his arm snaked around her waist and he pulled her to his hard, masculine body.

And even as she braced her hands on his chest, she felt herself turn liquid, almost like a pudding, in his embrace.

It was embarrassing how this man had such an effect on her.

“I did that because I wanted you—only you—even then!” he growled.

She could feel the heat arcing between them, even as she looked at him in shock. The wild desire in his eyes was most probably mirrored in her own. Instinctively, her fingers curled into his chest.

Then, his eyes seemed to clear. He released her gently and took a step back, his hand reaching out to caress the curve of her cheek.

“I apologize for my abominable behavior, sweetheart,” he told her softly. “I shall see you at the ball tonight, hmm?”

Phoebe could only nod wordlessly as he tucked a stubborn curl behind her ear, and with a soft smile, he walked away, leaving her standing alone in the garden.

Again.

CHAPTER 29

Phoebe prided herself on being a cultured person, and one who had a deeper understanding of art in most of its forms. However, standing in the middle of an art gallery with her sister, not even an entire day after she became the Duchess of Sinclair in full…

It was not only a bit of a discomfort to walk around in her current state, but it was also simplyimpossibleto appreciate the art all around her without her mind going back to… well, themattress.

But she had made her bed, so to speak, and she would much rather gallivant around in her sore state than wait for Ethan at Sinclair Estate—if he was ever going to come at all.

“What do you think of this one, dearest?”

Her sister’s voice cut through her reverie, and Phoebe shook herself to attention as her eyes flicked to a painting of arampant and priapic Dionysus coming upon a sleeping Ariadne. Heat bloomed in her cheeks as she quickly looked away, noting with extreme discomfort that most paintings depicted men and women in various states of undress.

Did the ancients truly walk about in deshabilleeven when entertaining heavenly dignitaries?

The painting Alice had been pointing out was that of chubby, naked, little cherubs watching over an infant in his bed.

Why were even the angels naked?

Surely, they would know better than to present themselves to mortals in their full glory?

“Perhaps something that does not depict nakedness so much,” she muttered. “Unless you wish to explain to the child so early on the differences between men and women.”