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An arranged marriage.

Her public declaration for the Duke of Sin had been the most impulsive thing she had ever done in her life.

Heaven help her, but she would much rather have it be her last.

“I am so happy it worked out for you,” she told her sister, squeezing her hands back. She smiled up at Evie. “Forbothof you. However, I will not be humiliated by the Duke’s peccadilloes.”

Scarlett wrinkled her nose. “Peccadilloes?”

“Yes, his peccadilloes.” Phoebe nodded. “After all, while dallying with courtesans and opera singers might be seen as fashionable by the ton, I cannot stand it.”

She stood up and reached for the veil that had been carefully draped over a hanger-form, the sheer lace so thin that it felt like it had been woven from spider webs.

With a sigh, she put it on and turned to look at herself in the mirror.

What resplendent or radiant bride? She looked as if she was going to face her executioner!

She turned towards her sister and friends with a resolute smile.

“I know that I have caused my parents undue embarrassment by my actions, and I shall set it right,” she declared. “I shall marry the Duke of Sinclair for their sake, but I shall keep my distance.”

After all, if he is incapable of giving me his heart, why should I surrender mine to him?

Phoebe knew better than to give all of herself over to the man who would be her husband.

She would not be so foolish as to think that a Wolf would not bite her hand, even if she had been the one to feed him.

For the second time in a week, Ethan found himself on the altar, waiting for his bride to walk down the aisle.

“You seem in better spirits this time around,” Hudson noted dryly. “Could it be that your previous experience has made you calmer overall?”

“Oh, do shut up, Hudson.” Ethan smirked. “My wedding is supposed to be a festive occasion. I shall not countenance your ill humor on such a day.”

“Says the man who could not wait to be rid of his bride just a week ago.”

“Well, Lady Phoebe is different.” Ethan shrugged. “She is… actually interesting.”

“Interesting?” Colin regarded him with a raised eyebrow. “You had better expound on what you mean by that, Ethan, or I swear I will break your jaw if you hurt her—wedding or not.”

Ethan laughed. “Do you think so lowly of me, old friend? Indeed, I shall make sure that Lady Phoebe is kept happily occupied for the rest of our lives as a wedded couple.”

“Why, you rascal!”

“I would not antagonize him further if I were you, Ethan,” Daniel interjected drolly. “He made a fine attempt to break my nose when he discovered Evie and I were married.”

“You married my sister without even informing me, her guardian!” Colin protested.

“I informed your grandmother. It was all the consent I needed.”

Before Daniel could rile Colin up some more, Hudson subtly stepped in between them. He gave both men a stern glare, raising an eyebrow at Colin, who glared defiantly back at him.

“Mind yourselves,” he warned both of them. “This is not the time for your antics.”

“Thank you, Hudson.” Ethan grinned at their stoic friend. “Gentlemen, I would prefer not to have any bloodshed on my wedding day. Colin, I know you are justified in your anger, and Daniel, everyone knows you could have easily avoided that or even countered…” he trailed off when the doors at the end of the grand ballroom opened.

The morning sunlight streamed from behind, illuminating Phoebe’s delicate figure until it seemed as if she was bathed in a halo of golden light.

She was resplendent—utterly and completely beyond compare.