Page 4 of A Bride for the Duke of Sin (Ton’s Wolves #3)

CHAPTER 4

I cannot believe I just did that!

Phoebe was shaking as she walked up to the altar, clasping her hands together as she fixed her gaze on Ethan, who was looking at her as if she had just lost her mind.

And maybe she just did.

Miss Delaney, however, was absolutely livid, and rightfully so. After all, in her eyes, Phoebe was nothing more than an interloper who dared to destroy the wedding she had carefully planned for.

But Ethan had already left his bride’s side, eliciting more whispers from the guests.

And to Phoebe’s wild, inexplicable delight, he was walking over to her—never mind that he looked as grim as a thundercloud.

“What is the matter, sweetheart?” he demanded icily. “Could you not wait until my wedding is over? Or—” He smiled coldly. “Is Hudson not the man for you?”

Phoebe wanted to curl up in mortification and die right there. She deserved this. Deserved his anger and Miss Delaney’s fury and the censure of all the wedding guests in attendance.

She had made a fool of herself.

But if she did not, then Ethan would be making the biggest mistake of his life.

“Last night,” she murmured, licking her lips nervously. “Last night, I heard?—”

Her gaze darted to Miss Delaney, who had gone suddenly pale. The young woman shook her head at her as if to say “no.”

“Well, what did you hear?” a voice from the pews rang out, eliciting nervous laughter from the guests.

Ethan looked at Phoebe as if he was debating whether he should toss her out of his estate or thank her for the distraction she afforded him.

“Go on, sweetheart,” he urged her. “What did you hear last night?”

Phoebe swallowed audibly. “Last night, I heard my heart,” she said lamely instead.

At that point, the Marchioness of Brandon decided that her daughter had done enough.

“Phoebe Eleanor Barkley, do sit down and behave yourself!” she called out from the pews, fuming.

Phoebe turned around and saw her sister, Alice, looking at her with concern.

“And what did your heart tell you, sweetheart?”

Her gaze swiveled back to Ethan, whose gaze had become so unnaturally cold that she shivered all the way down to her toes. He looked as if he might very well wring her neck for making a spectacle of herself and a fool out of them both.

This is it. Now or never.

She could not back down now.

If she did, then all of this humiliation would have been for nothing.

“Your Grace, I have searched my heart, and this I know to be true—I am madly, deeply, irrevocably charmed by you.” Phoebe straightened up and tossed her head back as she looked him dead in the eye and announced in a flat tone, “Thus, I cannot have you wed another!”

There was a loud thud, followed by a great uproar. The Marchioness of Brandon had keeled over and fainted—from shock, mortification, anger…

Or all of them.

I am so sorry, Mama. So dreadfully sorry .

After causing such a scene in public at a grand affair like this, Phoebe would be fortunate if her prospects simply plummeted dreadfully. The Viscount might even withdraw his proposal—which should be the only blessing to come out of all this.

She would be shunned by all of Society. Not even Alice, who was a duchess in her own right, would be able to elevate her after what she had done, the furor she had caused.

She raised her pained eyes to Ethan, who was now looking at her in absolute shock.

“I am so sorry, Your Grace,” she choked out. “So sorry.”

Then, she hiked up her skirts and ran .

She could not just run after she said all of that.

He would not allow it.

Damn you, Phoebe Barkley.

Ethan strode down the aisle after Phoebe when a plaintive voice called out from the altar, “Your Grace!”

He looked back and saw his bride, Miss Marianne Delaney, looking at him with tears in her eyes. No doubt, she had been greatly humiliated by the spectacle Phoebe had caused.

“Do not worry,” he reassured her quickly. “I shall demand an explanation from her.”

Before his bride could protest further, he ran out of the hall, barely catching a glimpse of a sage green skirt turning the corner as he did so.

When he caught her by the arm, he felt as if his very chest would burst.

“Let me go!” Phoebe cried out, struggling against his grip.

“Do you think I am simply going to let you go after that show you just put on?” he told her coldly. “In my study. Now.”

He dared not let go of her as he led her into the study, slamming the door shut behind her as he did so.

“What the hell were you thinking, Lady Phoebe?” he demanded. “Charming? Really? Could you not have waited until after the wedding, at least? We could have?—”

“We could have what, Your Grace?” she spat with a reproving look. “Do you mean to say that you will not keep your vows?”

Ethan stopped in the middle of his tirade. She was looking at him like a wounded animal, massaging the wrist he had grabbed so brusquely earlier.

Remorse flooded him immediately. He had not meant to hurt her. It was the last thing he ever wanted to do.

“You think that I would… that I would be willing to…” she railed, choking on her fury.

Ethan balked at the disgust in her voice. “That is not what I was thinking about.”

“Oh, that is exactly what you were thinking about,” she hissed at him. She angrily jabbed her finger into his chest. “Maybe you do deserve your precious bride. Maybe I should not have tried to save you at all!”

Wait—what?

Ethan wrapped his hand around hers, careful not to hurt her but just enough to stop her from boring a hole into his chest with her finger.

“What do you mean by that?” he asked her softly. “What are you trying to save me from?”

She glared at him reproachfully. “I was trying to save you from making the biggest mistake of your life—that’s what I was trying to do.”

He could not help but smile at that.

“Sweetheart, why would you save a rake from marriage?” he teased her. “Should you not rejoice that I have now gotten my much-deserved comeuppance?”

“Not like this,” she replied bitterly.

“Like what?”

She sighed as she looked up at him helplessly. “For all your charm and experience, are you truly this daft?”

Ethan had never been called daft, and certainly not by a woman whose head barely reached his chest.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Last night, I heard Miss Delaney talking to her mother,” she admitted, biting her lower lip. “She… they were happy that you were marrying her.”

“I can see why.”

The woman was marrying a duke, after all, and one who was not old enough to be her father at that. Every debutante and her grasping mama would be jubilant at such good fortune.

However, all that seemed to matter little to Phoebe.

She rolled her eyes at him. “Well, I assure you that her celebratory mood had nothing to do with whatever is inflating your sense of self, Your Grace. The young lady was gloating over how it took much less effort for her to catch a Wolf for a husband and with a child that is not even yours.”

Not even yours .

Ethan almost staggered back at her words.

He had been right all along—the child truly was not his.

The damned woman had almost tricked him into marriage!

He nearly sighed with relief at the same time fury consumed him.

“I am truly sorry for the ruckus I caused at your wedding,” Phoebe continued, looking down at her hands. “But I could not just let you ruin your life like that, Your Grace. I did not know what I should do—just that I had to stop the wedding at all costs.”

He reached for her hands before she milked the blood clear from her fingers. “You did the best you could, and I am glad for that. Grateful even, Lady Phoebe. You have saved me. I cannot thank you enough.”

“Well, I suppose,” she sighed. “But do not worry about it, Your Grace.”

She turned her gaze away, her face a delicate shade of pink that made him wonder if the rest of her bloomed with that most tantalizing hue.

“I should go now,” she told him quietly. “I believe Mama has fainted from… from what I did. I should see to her now?—”

She turned to leave, but he caught her arm once more. She looked up at him in surprise. “Your Grace?”

“Did you do it truly out of the goodness of your heart only?” he asked her softly. “Did you not mean anything you said back there?”

He stepped closer to her, reaching out to brush his knuckles against her warm cheek. He heard her breath catch in her throat, saw her chest rise, swelling under his gaze.

“Because if you did mean all those things, I could return the favor,” he continued, his voice dropping to a low whisper as his breath fanned her ear. “I could bring you pleasure, sweetheart… so much pleasure that your knees would go weak?—”

He felt her hands bracing against his chest as she pushed him away.

“No, thank you, Your Grace,” she said with a firm shake of her head and a delicate shudder. “I will not become your prey. It is bad enough that I have saved a Wolf, I do not intend to be eaten for my efforts as well.”

Ethan smiled at that. Interesting choice of words.

Eating her would be an undertaking he could apply himself most wholeheartedly to.

He laughed softly, drawing her into his embrace, enjoying how her breath hitched when he did so.

Surely, he must have some effect on her at least, but with her looking at him as if she was quite annoyed, he could not really tell.

“Too bad,” he murmured. “You would have greatly enjoyed it…”

Ethan decided that he liked the feeling of her like this, in his arms. If he leaned in just a little bit closer, he would be able to kiss her, taste those lips and see for himself if they were as sweet and luscious as they looked…

But then, the door suddenly burst open and a dry voice called out, “We are not interrupting something, are we?”