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“Reading what exactly?” she asked her friend.

“Why, your book, of course!”

Scarlett was aghast. “You mean you were reading that scandalous book with your husband? How shameless! I love it!” She cackled.

Evie smiled mischievously at them. “Who better to read it with, right?”

“My, oh my.” Scarlett shook her head. “You have been corrupted by the Duke of Ashton. Corrupted, I tell you.”

Phoebe laughed, feeling the knot in her heart slowly loosening since she realized that morning that Ethan was not coming.

She sipped her tea. So what if he was not coming? She was not going to keel over and expire from a broken heart over it.

Alright, maybe she would keel over—a little.

“Your Grace, I beg your pardon, but there is a Madame Delacroix waiting for you outside.”

Phoebe set her cup down and looked at Morton in surprise. Madame Delacroix was one of the most highly sought after—if not themostsought after—dressmakers in all of London.

“Madame Delacroix is here inyour home?” Scarlett looked absolutely flabbergasted. “Now, I think I might want to be a duchess, too.”

“There is only one unmarried duke in London right now,” Evie reminded her. “And that is the Duke of Wolverton.”

Scarlett shuddered. “Oh… all right. Perhaps I should settle for a marquess.”

“Shall I send her in, Your Grace?” Morton asked.

Phoebe could only nod woodenly. She did not recall ordering anything from the very exclusive and veryexpensivecouturière.

And if she did, she would not have so easily forgotten.

“Greetings, Your Graces, Lady Scarlett,” Madame Delacroix greeted the ladies with a warm smile.

“Madame Delacroix.” Phoebe smiled. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

The couturière smiled and gestured to the boxes she had brought with her.

Boxes.

Phoebe’s eyes widened. So did Evie’s and Scarlett’s.

“His Grace had these made for the Duchess of Sinclair.” Madame Delacroix’s smile grew wider as she gestured towards the boxes.

Scarlett let out a low whistle. “Oh my. If this is how a Wolf apologizes to his wife for missing teatime, then I just might decide to marry the Duke of Wolverton, after all!” She turned towards a box marked with a dark green ribbon and pointed at it. “Why does that one have a different colored ribbon,Madame?”

“Oh, this one?” Madame Delacroix turned towards the box. “His Grace chose this specifically for Her Grace. A man of rather fine tastes, the Duke of Sinclair.”

“I would say,” Phoebe muttered under her breath.

“Open it, dearest!” Scarlett urged her excitedly. “Let us see what is inside!”

“You sound far more excited than the recipient of the gift herself.” Evie laughed, although she was regarding the box with some curiosity as well.

Phoebe smiled and tugged at the dark green ribbon. Inside the box lay a dress of deep emerald green gauze, embroidered with threads of gold. Upon closer inspection, there were tiny golden glass beads that were worked into the delicate golden patterns.

It truly was a work of art that must have taken hours to create—no,days.

And that was if they worked on nothing else but that.