Page 48

Phoebe wasmiserable.

Ever since Ethan left for his townhouse nearly a month ago, she had made good on her word to live her life as she wanted, without giving a thought to her wayward husband, who was most likely spending his days in the arms of his mistress.

Or mistresses.

That thought was enough to drive her over the edge, so she focused all of that vexation on moreproductiveactivities.

She attended balls and luncheons and tea parties. She went riding at Rotten Row and promenading in the Park. She went shopping with Alice in preparation for her baby. In fact, she had been sohelpfulin that area that her sister remarked that she was at Blackthorn Estate far more than she was at herownestate.

When she arrived back at Sinclair Estate, she would be so tired that she would drift off in the middle of her bath at times before crashing into bed—and do everything all over again the next day.

Somehow, the life of a carefree spinster was not exactly as delightful as she initially thought it was.

“Phoebe, dear, are you sure nothing is amiss?”

“What?” Phoebe blinked and found Evie and Scarlett looking at her with great concern.

They were promenading in the Park on a glorious afternoon, but she could hardly feel the warmth of the sun.

“I am well, as you can see,” she quipped with a slight laugh.

The Duchess of Ashton, however, did not look convinced. Neither did Scarlett, for that matter.

“Dear Phoebe, I have been trying to tell you all afternoon how overbearing Colin has become ever since we learned Alice is with child.” Evie frowned. “But you seem rather distracted.”

Phoebe shook her head and managed an apologetic smile for her friend. “I do apologize, Evie. The Covington ball went on until the early hours of the morning, you see.”

Scarlett wrinkled her nose. “You do not even like Lady Covington. Or her daughter.”

Phoebe giggled. “Yes, but it is rather satisfying to see their faces when they announce me as the Duchess of Sinclair.”

Well, that was not a complete falsehood. Miss Covington made no secret of her admiration for Ethan, and Phoebe had even heard her declare once that it was only a matter of time before he asked her papa for her hand in marriage.

Unfortunately, that never came to pass, and when news of his engagement to Miss Delaney broke, Miss Covington had taken to her bed in despair. When Ethan and Phoebe got married, it had taken her two weeks more to recover from the devastation.

How very like a Wolf.Always breaking hearts left and right.

Well, if she was determined enough, Phoebe would never succumb to her husband’s superficial charms as Miss Covington had.

“How are things with you and Ethan?” Evie asked her. “Daniel tells me that he has scarcely left his townhouse since he moved there a month ago.”

Indeed, Phoebe had yet to come across her husband in any of the social events she had attended.

He is probably occupied with a woman in his bed.

After all, what could possibly take up so much of his time?

“Things are… going great,” she replied with false brightness. “Ethan gave me what I have always wanted—the carefree life of a spinster and under the protection of his title at that. It is more than I have ever dreamed of.”

“Are you truly happy, dearest?” Evie asked her gently.

“I am. I mean, I should be, right?” Phoebe murmured achingly.

“But what?” her redheaded friend pressed. “What is holding you back from being truly happy?”

Phoebe pursed her lips, and she looked up at the sky—eternally blue, with only a few scattered puffs of white. It had been a glorious day on the day of her wedding, too, and when Ethan left for his townhouse, the sun was shining as brightly as it did that day.

Why, then, did she go about her days as if she was constantly being followed by a raincloud?