Page 32 of A Bride for the Duke of Sin (Ton’s Wolves #3)

CHAPTER 32

T he world seemed to stop around her.

And then, it began to spin with dizzying speed until all Phoebe could do was flatten herself against the wall, her chest heaving as she sought to process everything that she had just heard.

Had she truly made the egregious decision to stop Ethan’s wedding to Miss Delaney on that day?

Was the child in Miss Delaney’s belly really her husband’s?

If what she heard was true, then that would mean she owed Miss Delaney and her entire family an apology that would take her entire lifetime—and even then, it would not be enough.

She had not only ruined a wedding, she had ruined lives.

Worse, she had condemned both mother and child to life as pariahs, outcasts of Society—all while she enjoyed every accommodation as the Duchess of Sinclair, the title that should have belonged to Miss Delaney if she had not recklessly stopped her wedding on that fateful day.

Breathe, Phoebe, breathe! Get your head on straight before you do anything idiotic!

There was nothing to be gained from rushing headlong into a situation guided by her emotions alone—that was a recipe for an absolute disaster.

Besides, this party was supposed to celebrate her sister’s first pregnancy. How could she cause such a ruckus and draw all the attention to her problems?

“I need to get a drink,” she muttered to herself. “And then, I need to get to the bottom of this.”

She was quite sure she had not heard wrongly on that day—Miss Delaney was more than certain that the child she was carrying was not Ethan’s at all.

Or did she simply misinterpret what she heard?

And Ethan… well, he would never have married her if he knew there was the slightest chance that the child was his. He had his own suspicions, too, and in the end, he had ended his engagement with Miss Delaney and married her .

He had chosen to believe her .

But what if they were wrong?

What if he believed Miss Delaney?

Would he then resent her for dooming his child to the life of a bastard on the fringes of Society?

Phoebe closed her eyes in abject misery. Then, she took a deep breath and tried to gather her thoughts—enough for her to make her way back to the ballroom and politely ask a passing footman for a glass of wine.

The footmen of Blackthorn Estate were well aware of her preferences, as she frequently visited Alice whenever she was in London long enough for Phoebe to sit down and talk with her.

Normally, she would never ask for spirits of any kind. In fact, it had been a family joke how she could never hold down alcohol of any sort, and even their mama had always, always warned her against drinking spirits of any sort when she was in a public setting.

But Phoebe felt as if she was breaking apart from the guilt and confusion that stirred within her.

She needed something to fortify her for at least long enough until she could politely excuse herself from the celebrations. Besides, she was not going to drink much. A glass would be perfectly fine for what she needed.

The footman returned with her drink, and she accepted the glass with a grateful smile.

She watched from afar as Colin led her sister around the ballroom, her hand tucked protectively in the crook of his elbow. Alice was glowing with the happiness of a mother—a rather striking contrast to Miss Delaney, who had looked gaunt and miserable in comparison.

Phoebe trembled as she held the glass up to her lips. Suddenly, her parched throat demanded more than just a sip.

She needed the entire glass.

The wine blazed a trail of liquid fire down her throat, causing her to gag behind her gloved hand.

How embarrassing .

But the wine had fulfilled its role, and it was doing a marvelous job.

Not even a few minutes after she finished the entire wretched glass, she suddenly felt lightheaded and light at the same time. As if the burdens she had been carrying earlier just slid off of her.

It is no wonder that people often drown their sorrows in wine!

The immediate effect was nothing short of miraculous, and in her current emotional state, she needed nothing short of a miracle .

Fortunately, divine intervention came in the form of mind-altering spirits, and she soon found the courage to leave her post by the pillar and perhaps join the rest of the party…

… only to stumble sideways and crash into someone else.

“Oh, I am so sorry!” she exclaimed as politely as she could.

“Your Grace?” an astonished voice asked.

She looked up to find an equally astonished Lord Dexford, his brow furrowed anxiously as he held her up.

“Are you all right?” he asked her cautiously.

“Perfectly fine.” Phoebe nodded. “I… I think I may have had a little too much to drink.”

The Viscount looked at her with some amusement, which she found rather offensive. Why did men find it entertaining when women try to drink away their problems, when they did it all the time?

Even Ethan had regarded her with great hilarity and maybe some concern that night she went out dressed as a man.

But would he be concerned about her now?

Phoebe immediately sobered up at the thought.

“I think you may need to sit down,” Lord Dexford told her in a strangely patronizing tone.

“I can manage well enough on my own, thank you very much!” Phoebe huffed, yanking her arm out of his grip.

She stumbled forward a couple of steps before the Viscount caught her and carried her to a sofa in a secluded alcove, away from prying eyes.

“You can rest here,” he advised her. “Wait until the alcohol wears off a little bit.”

Now that she was properly seated, the world around her seemed to tilt and sway a little more before it settled perfectly.

“I think I will be fine here, Lord Dexford,” she told him with a grateful smile. “You do not need to keep me company.”

“But Your Grace?—”

“I would advise you to keep your hands off my wife, Dexford—that is if you want to keep those appendages attached to you.”

Phoebe looked over the Viscount’s shoulder to find Ethan standing a short distance away, and from the looks of it, he was furious .

Oh dear.

After his unexpected encounter with Miss Delaney, Ethan had rushed to return to Phoebe with every intention of apologizing to her, only to find her missing.

He had searched the entire ballroom and even the adjacent hallways and the balcony to see if she had wandered off to no avail.

It was only when he returned to the ballroom that he saw her being helped onto a sofa by none other than the Viscount Dexford.

The man simply refuses to stay away from her!

Even now, with Ethan standing before them, the bastard kept eyeing him warily as if he were a threat to Phoebe.

“You may leave us, My Lord,” he heard his wife say in a strangely tired voice. “I will be fine with His Grace.”

Ethan shot the man a smug look, but the Viscount seemed to hesitate before he sketched a slight bow in Phoebe’s direction.

“As you wish, Your Grace.”

The Viscount walked away stiffly, and if he had even cast a single longing look back at Phoebe, Ethan would not have been able to help himself and would probably have punched him in the face.

“He is gone now. Are you happy?”

He turned to find Phoebe reclining on the sofa, her eyes closed.

“It seems that you have not really understood what it is like being with a Wolf, sweetheart,” he told her in an ominous voice.

Phoebe opened one eye and regarded him with an expression akin to annoyance. “That will not work on me anymore, Ethan. I am no longer the naive fool who is scared of Wolves and her own shadow,” she replied. “And if you do not like my former betrothed speaking to me, perhaps you should spend more time with me.”

“Oh, but have I not been doing that very thing you are asking of me, Duchess?” he growled. “I am practically at your beck and call. I have been looking all over for you, and instead, I find you with Dexford. So, please forgive me if I do not like seeing my wife being on intimate terms with another man.”

She regarded him with narrowed eyes. “Oh, so you do not like seeing me talking to other men,” she hissed. “But the same thing does not apply to you?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You know what the hell I am talking about!” she flung back at him, wincing as she massaged her temples.

“No, in fact, I do not,” he bit out. “Ever since you came into my life, nothing has ever made sense.”

“Well, I am sorry for disrupting your perfectly ordered life,” she retorted. “I never asked to marry you!”

Ethan was stunned as he beheld the irate beauty before him. Her face was flushed, her deep green eyes blazing with animosity.

Not even an hour ago, she had been stifling her moans into his shoulder as his hand brought her to a climax.

“What did that fool tell you, Phoebe?” he asked her dangerously. “What did Dexford tell you?”

“Nothing,” she sneered. Sneered!

“I hardly doubt it is nothing when you are acting like this!”

She stood up and wobbled dangerously on her feet. When he reached out to catch her, she pushed him away.

But not before he caught the scent of alcohol on her breath.

Now, everything made sense.

“We are going home,” he told her in a voice that brooked no argument.

“The best thing you have said all night!” she huffed as she stalked off towards Alice and Colin, who were talking to Evie and Daniel.

“I do apologize, but I fear I might have drunk a bit too much of the celebratory wine,” she told them ruefully.

“Are you sure you are all right, dearest?” Alice asked her in concern.

Ethan watched as his darling wife waved them all off with a slight smile.

“Perfectly. Nothing that a good rest can’t cure,” she said with a bit more cheer.

“If you say so, my dear.”

Alice, however, did not look too convinced. She looked at Ethan, and he nodded his head in acknowledgment.

He would take care of Phoebe and get her home safely.

And then, they were going to talk.

Except that she was having none of that. In fact, Ethan was quite convinced that she was every bit as determined to be as difficult as humanly possible.

“I was looking for you,” he told her softly, once they were inside the carriage. “I could not find you anywhere, and instead, I see you with that bastard. Tell me how I am supposed to feel, Phoebe.”

She did not even bother to look at him, choosing to stare out the window instead. “You could have trusted me.”

“I trust you, but I do not trust that scoundrel around you.”

“No, you do not,” she told him angrily. “You saw one thing and immediately decided to believe the worst of me. How will it be when someone comes at me with an accusation then, Ethan? Will you believe them or me?”

“Who is accusing you?” he demanded.

“It does not matter,” she said coldly, turning back to the window. “Your reaction was all I needed to see tonight.”

“My reaction?” he echoed in disbelief. He sat back, his hands clenching into fists. “You want me to trust you, but you would not afford me the same privilege. Is this your notion of a fair and happy marriage, sweetheart?”

She stiffened, looking as if he had just struck her, and he immediately wished he could take it all back.

“I suppose neither you nor I have any right to discuss what a pleasant marriage is,” she sighed as the carriage came to a stop at the front of Sinclair Estate.

She opened the door and stepped out without waiting for his assistance as she usually did.

In the darkness, her eyes seemed to gleam with a cold light.

“I am currently indisposed and will be sleeping in my rooms tonight,” she announced. “Good night, Your Grace.”

Ethan felt the urge to slam the door after her, but he managed to keep a tight rein on his temper.

“To the townhouse,” he barked at the coachman.

Perhaps some sort of distance would allow their tempers to cool down, and they could discuss their differences tomorrow, after they had managed to get a good night’s sleep and the effects of wine had worn off.

But more than that, Ethan was afraid .

In his current state, he feared that he just might turn into the monster his father had been.