Page 14 of A Bride for the Duke of Sin (Ton’s Wolves #3)
CHAPTER 14
P hoebe was miserable .
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 mistress es .
That thought was enough to drive her over the edge, so she focused all of that vexation on more productive activities.
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 so helpful in that area that her sister remarked that she was at Blackthorn Estate far more than she was at her own estate.
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?
“Well, I have read about love…” she began. “I have heard about it, and I have seen it for myself with you and Alice, but…” She sighed. “Well, I am not really a spinster, am I? And sometimes, I do miss his company…”
Especially at night , she added mournfully to herself.
At night, when her burgeoning desires would take hold of her, seizing her with such force that it was almost shocking. She had touched herself as Ethan had taught her, wrenching climax after hollow climax as she lay writhing on her big, empty bed.
And in the mornings, she found herself pining for his presence at the breakfast table. As much as she hated to admit it, she even missed his outrageous innuendoes.
Or the way he stirred those dark longings within her without even touching her.
“He is not so bad,” she finished lamely. “For a Wolf, that is.”
“You forget that I am married to a Wolf as well, my dear.” Evie giggled. “And as much as I adore the man, Daniel can be a bit of a handful, I will not lie.”
But everyone in London knew that the Duke of Ashton was madly in love with his wife.
Phoebe could not say the same thing for her and Ethan.
“If you care for him this much, why did you let him go, then?” Evie asked her.
“I… I do not trust him, Evie,” Phoebe whispered achingly. “He might appear to care for me, but for all I know, he could be with his mistresses as we speak. I can learn to live with it now , but if I get closer to him…”
If I fall in love with him, it will break my heart.
“You mean to say that you and your husband have yet to consummate your marriage?” Scarlett asked her in shock.
“Quiet, you!” Phoebe admonished her friend.
Her cheeks were flaming red, but it was more from the recollection of the pleasure Ethan had coaxed from her without even touching her.
If she had allowed him to touch her…
Dear God in heaven, would I have lived to tell the tale?
If she had already found it difficult to stand after that interlude in the breakfast room, having Ethan touch her would probably send her to bed for weeks .
She wanted him. Craved him.
But she wanted him to profess his loyalty to her as well.
It was all or nothing.
She would not have a husband who loved her in bed and entertained other women outside of it.
It would crush her.
At that moment, two familiar figures approached them. The older lady, the Dowager Viscountess Dexford, greeted all three young ladies cheerfully, while the Viscount conveyed his greetings in a more subdued and polite manner.
“Your Grace, I have not seen you since your wedding!” the Dowager Viscountess enthused. “How have you been doing, my dear?”
“Ah… Quite well, My Lady. Thank you very much for asking.”
Phoebe was not so familiar with the Dowager Viscountess, so her effusive greetings surprised her a little. It had been her parents who had arranged the betrothal between her and Lord Dexford, after all, and Phoebe herself had only briefly interacted with the woman on a handful of occasions.
“I do not blame you at all for doing what you did, my dear,” the Dowager Viscountess continued with an overly bright smile.
Phoebe frowned in confusion. “Do what, My Lady?”
“Why, protect His Grace from that grasping schemer, of course!” The older woman’s eyes widened enthusiastically. Then, her voice dropped to a whisper. “Did anyone ever find out who the father of her child is?”
It was a most inappropriate discussion to be having out in public and even more distasteful to ask Phoebe about it.
“I did not know the lady in question was with child, Lady Dexford,” she replied instead.
“If she was, then who can tell, really?” Scarlett shrugged. “Miss Delaney had a great many suitors, each one more besotted with her than the last.”
But Ethan had never been one of those suitors.
Phoebe shot her friend a grateful smile, and Scarlett subtly winked back at her.
“Mother, you should not pay attention to such gossip,” Lord Dexford told his mother coldly. When he turned back to Phoebe and her friends, he smiled politely and tipped his hat. “Do forgive my mother for her inappropriate talk. I hope to see Your Graces and Lady Scarlett at the opera next week.”
It was a clear indication of his desire to leave, but the Dowager Viscountess did not so easily catch the cues. In the end, Lord Dexford had to usher his mother away before she said more inappropriate things.
“I really do not like that man,” Scarlett muttered under her breath. “Or his mother.”
“You do not like most people,” Phoebe reminded her with a slight smile. “But I appreciate your loyalty.”
The redhead scoffed, but then she smiled good-naturedly. “Even if friendship and loyalty had nothing to do with it, I still do not like him.”
“Well, I know someone else who shares your sentiments.” Evie chuckled.
“Who?”
“Why, Phoebe’s husband, of course,” she teased. “But I suppose that all depends on her.”
“Naturally.” Scarlett nodded.
“Hmm. Naturally.”
“I am right here, you know,” Phoebe sighed, wrinkling her nose. “You need not speak as if I cannot hear you.”
“Perhaps it is yourself whom you cannot hear, my dear,” Evie told her, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Listen to your heart and heed what it is telling you. You either want Ethan or the life you have always dreamed of as a spinster.”
“A not-quite spinster,” Scarlett interjected cheerfully.
Phoebe rolled her eyes. “Is there such a thing?”
“Well, a month ago, I might have deemed it an impossibility, but seeing you right now…” the redhead trailed off with a mischievous grin.
She shared a knowing look with Evie, and both women burst into giggles, much to Phoebe’s frustration.
Her situation with Ethan was indeed rather unconventional. At least they did not regard each other with barely concealed animosity like many married couples in the ton.
And that was only because Ethan respected her boundaries.
Phoebe resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose as she felt a headache coming on. Honestly, she did not think that a considerate husband would be this much trouble.
How was it even possible to be so frustrated with a man who was kind enough to give her the space she asked for?
“You are right, Evie,” she finally relented.
Her friend looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “So, you agree with me?”
Phoebe nodded. “It seems that I have been rather ungrateful and have not truly taken advantage of my situation.”
Evie smiled. “Well, I am glad that you are finally seeing things clearly, my dear.”
“Which is why I have decided to thoroughly dispense of this joke about minding propriety,” Phoebe announced. “With my dear husband giving me free rein, I can finally do whatever I want!”
Her friends’ dismayed looks told her that this was not the sort of response they were hoping for.
“Oh dear,” Evie sighed.
“Indeed,” Scarlett muttered, shaking her head.
But that mattered very little to Phoebe, whose mind had begun to race with the myriad possibilities her newfound freedom afforded.
Possibilities that she had not considered yet.
“Let them talk,” Ethan had told her. “As my wife, you will never need to worry about such trifles ever again.”
The words he had spoken to her on their first dance echoed in her mind—as well as the promise he had made back then.
“I shall take care of everything else.”
Phoebe felt her lips curl into a slight smile—her first true one in the weeks since Ethan had left for his townhouse.
She certainly hoped that he meant what he said when he gave her the freedom to do as she pleased, to be as outrageous as she wanted.
Perhaps, if she was audacious enough, she might even draw his attention…
Not that I care!