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“What I believe hardly matters,” he responded coolly. “What I want to know is what Dexford told you last night.”

So, he did not believe her.

He preferred to believe a dubious scandal writer hiding like a coward behind papers, happily ruining lives with a mere stroke of the pen.

Phoebe had never been more disappointed in her entire life.

But beyond that, she could feel her heart beginning to crack painfully in her chest.

She carefully rose from her seat and arranged the folds of her skirt. She faced him coolly, her chin raised to meet his furious gaze.

Very well, she was just as furious with him.

“Is it yours, then?” she asked him softly.

Ethan laughed hollowly and crossed his arms in front of his chest. He regarded her with a raised eyebrow, the sneer on his lips mocking her.

“You should know the answer to that question better than anyone,” he replied sarcastically. “Besides, what did the great Lord Dexford tell you? Your husband should be privy to such things, don’t you think?”

Phoebe reeled back as if he had just slapped her, and it was not from the effects of her inebriation the night prior.

He had truly hurt her. He might as well have laid his hands on her, for all that mattered.

“Don’t tell me you believe what was written in ascandal sheet,” she retorted scathingly. “Do you think that I concocted this farce to force you to marrymeinstead? Let me remind you of this,Your Grace.” She practically spat out his title. “You forced me to marryyou. I had every intention of living my life in peace as a spinster before you convinced my family that marrying you was the best course of action for everyone involved!”

Her chest heaved with the effort it took to finally slap some sense into him with those words. Phoebe knew, too, that she had finally managed to make him see some sense.

But the damage had already been done to her heart. There was no going back from that.

“No, of course not!” he defended himself. “I just… I… do not like seeing you with him.”

“Likewise,husband,” she sneered. “You impose your ridiculous rules on me and demand I adhere to them, but what about you?”

Ethan looked confused. “What about me?”

Phoebe shook her head and waved him off. “It does not matter now,” she sighed. “You have no right to offend me and cast aspersions on my character as you please.”

She grabbed the book from the couch and turned to leave when he grabbed her upper arm.

“I told you this would happen,” he told her.

Phoebe shrugged him off. If only it was just as easy to shake off his emotional hold on her as well.

“Do you want to hear what I really think, Ethan?” she spat. “I think you areterrified. You saw how it could have been between us, and you feltscared. Now, you see an opportunity to get away from me or push me away, and you grab it with both hands.”

His hands fell to his sides as he stared back at her solemnly.

But Phoebe was not done yet. She would get everything off her chest even if it was the last thing she would do.

“I should be the one who is upset that everyone in the ton thinks my husband is about to have an illegitimate child and I have been framed as a wicked, conniving Jezebel who steals other women’s husbands,” she told him, jabbing a finger into his chest. “But you turn around and make this all aboutyouand your insane, unfounded jealousy because you cannot admit the truth to yourself!”

“I am not jealous of the Viscount,” he insisted. “I just?—”

“You just what?”

He grabbed her arms again and tried to get her to look into his eyes. “Please do not get mad, sweetheart. I remember him at the party that night?—”

Phoebe frowned. “What party are you talking about?”