Page 36 of A Bride for the Duke of Sin (Ton’s Wolves #3)
CHAPTER 36
A fter she had cried her heart out and imbibed an ungodly amount of hot chocolate, courtesy of Scarlett, Phoebe was tired and feeling lightheaded. Her belly felt as if it had been weighed down considerably, and she knew she was probably going to regret it in the morning, but she did not care.
“I think you should go get some rest now,” Alice told her gently, wiping the tear tracks on her face with a silken handkerchief. “Sleep does wonders for the mind, heart, and body.”
“You really should not have come,” Phoebe insisted. “It is not good for the babe to be around heartbreak before he is even born.”
“How do you even know it is a he and not a she?” her older sister teased her.
Evie smiled at her. “The first Blackthorn baby is always a boy.”
Alice sighed. “And I had been hoping for a girl…”
“Then you should try for more!” Scarlett grinned at her. “I am sure that husband of yours will be more than up for it.”
But Alice only shuddered. “Sometimes, I fear that he will lose his mind over this pregnancy. It is already hard enough to walk around without him hovering over me…”
“Do not worry, dear sister. I think it will only get better from here.” Phoebe smiled at her.
Alice squeezed her hand reassuringly. “As I hope it will for you, Phoebe. Whatever happens, we will always be here for you.”
Scarlett, who had been sitting close to the window, suddenly jumped up and peered through the glass pane, her palms flattening against the clear surface.
“What is it?” Evie asked her. “Is something amiss?”
The redhead shook her head. “Do not fret now, but I think that the carriage of the Duke of Sinclair just rolled up to our front door.” She squinted through the glass, and her eyes widened in shock. “It is the carriage of the Duke of Sinclair!”
No, no… it cannot be! What is he doing here?
Phoebe felt panic rising in her chest, but Alice simply patted her hands. She looked at her unwaveringly and said firmly, “My dear, you have been overwrought since this morning. I believe that it is best that you rest for now.”
Evie stood behind her and laid a supportive hand on Phoebe’s shoulder. There was a steely glint in her eyes. “Alice is right,” she stated. “You do not need to see him right away. Let us handle this for you.”
“In short.” Scarlett smiled coldly. “That husband of yours will have to get through us first before he gets to talk to you. Who does he think he is?” she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “He cannot just walk all over you like that, even if he is a duke!”
The other two Duchesses nodded in agreement.
Phoebe smiled gratefully at all of them. It was a very good time to have loyal friends around her.
She almost pitied Ethan for having to face their wrath alone.
Almost.
In all his life, Ethan had never faced a more daunting task than facing three ladies who were rather displeased with him.
No, not merely displeased— outraged was a better term for it.
All three of them were bristling with frosty feminine rage for what he had done to Phoebe, and he did not blame them one bit. Even he was angry with himself, but this was not about him.
He was here solely for Phoebe.
She deserved his apology, and she would get it even if he had to fight the Gorgons themselves to get to her.
“Please do not look at us like that, Your Grace.” Lady Scarlett smiled coldly. “One would think that you are scared of us. How scary can three women be?”
More than you could ever know .
But Ethan fought the rising panic in his throat as he smiled cordially at her. This was her residence, after all, and if she meant to keep Phoebe here, she could do so indefinitely.
It would not be good for him to further push the lady to restrict him from seeing his wife again.
“I wish to see Phoebe,” he told them gently.
It was best for him to be honest. Flattery and talking in circles would not get him anywhere at this point.
“What for?” Scarlett scoffed. “I thought you disdained her company, for all that you proclaimed your affections all over London.”
“My affections for my wife are true,” he responded evenly.
“And yet, you hurt her.”
It was Alice who spoke this time, her eyes flashing. He had never comprehended why Colin practically kowtowed to this wife of his. Now, he understood completely.
She was a formidable woman, indeed. Worthy of being the Duchess of Blackthorn.
And I have just broken her sister’s heart. Her younger sister.
It was already a miracle that she had not summoned her husband to beat some sense into him.
“I was wrong,” he implored. “I was wrong for hurting her and stupid.”
Evie smiled frostily as she turned towards her sister-in-law. “A man who can admit to his mistakes is admirable.”
“Not,” Alice countered, “if that is his only redeeming quality.”
“Indeed,” Scarlett sneered. “Is he just supposed to apologize and admit his mistakes every single time? Would that make it all better?”
No, it would not.
For an apology to matter, it was not enough to be sincere. One had to make changes to make sure the same thing never happened again.
This was what they wanted—the assurance that Phoebe would never suffer in such a manner again.
Guilt clawed at Ethan’s insides as the full weight of what he had done to the woman he loved bore down on him.
“I was a fool,” he admitted.
The three ladies regarded him with quiet glares that seemed to say, “We already know that.”
“I made a mess of things,” he continued. “I said words that hurt her. I was the one who pushed her away.”
“You did not trust her.” It would seem that Evie did not intend to mince her words today. “You asked her to trust you. Well, Ethan, that request goes both ways. How can you expect her to trust you when you lie and hide from her at every turn?”
“She wanted a true marriage,” Alice told him. “A happy one. I had hoped that you would give her that—not right away, of course, but with time. I did not expect you to hurt her the way you did, and it has not even been half a year into your marriage yet.”
“I know, and I am truly sorry for it,” he implored. “If I can at least speak to her so I can tell her how much I regret everything?—”
“And then what?”
Ethan hung his head and closed his eyes, rubbing a palm over his face.
“Then I hope that she would find it in her heart to forgive me,” he told them brokenly when he faced them again. “Not for myself, but so that she might find the peace that I so cruelly deprived her of.”
“And what if she does not?” Alice asked him softly. “What if you have already hurt her beyond repair? What if she is so broken that she no longer believes in all the things you now want her to believe in?”
Ethan blanched. A world where Phoebe no longer believed in love was a world devoid of color. She would be a husk of her former self, and it would all be his fault.
“Then I will make it up to her every single day for the rest of my life,” he told them softly. “I would let her know how much I love her every single day, even if she no longer believes it—or me. For the rest of my life, she will only know how much I love her, and I will not stop even after I have breathed my last breath.”
For a moment, the entire parlor seemed to be stunned into silence at his solemn oath. The three ladies looked at each other, and Ethan could almost see the thoughts spinning in their heads, hear the words that were being communicated by their gazes alone.
Women were such complex creatures—nurturing and fierce at the same time. A striking duality of light and dark, radiance and sensuality.
And out of all the women in the world, it was Phoebe who fit him perfectly. Phoebe who matched him in every aspect, who matched him toe to toe, word for word.
It was Phoebe who showed him how to love even when he believed himself incapable of it.
As he wallowed in the uncertainty of his situation, Ethan was certain of only one thing—he loved Phoebe.
She was his light, and he would spend the rest of his life loving her.
Alice raised her head and smiled—not at him, but past him.
“What do you think?” she called out.
“I think I have heard enough,” a familiar voice replied.
That one voice that tugged at his heart and made the blood in his veins sing.
He would recognize that voice anywhere .
He turned to the doorway, the breath leaving his chest as he looked at Phoebe, radiant as the moon, her eyes twinkling like golden stars against a cloud of emerald velvet.
And wonder of all wonders—she was looking at him.