Page 7 of A Bride for the Duke of Sin (Ton’s Wolves #3)

CHAPTER 7

“ B ut for Lady P, it seems that His Grace is willing to overlook a great many inconveniences. Is it possible that this Lady’s most ardent confession has finally managed to tame a Wolf?”

Rubbish. Complete and utter rubbish.

Phoebe sighed as she set aside the latest issue of a popular scandal sheet. It had been seven days since her ‘most ardent confession’ and she had not heard from Ethan since his ‘proposal’ in the parlor.

He had promised her two things then—a special license that would allow them to get married posthaste and a resolution to the scandal that she had caused.

He had already made good on his first promise, but as for his second one…

Phoebe wondered if it was prudent at all to counter one scandal with another. After all, what gossip could be more titillating than a renowned rogue falling in love with a debutante who had just publicly declared her affection for him?

It was the stuff of stories, albeit one so ludicrous that even she could not bring herself to pen it.

“Why are you still reading such drivel?” Lady Brandon demanded, frowning at the discarded paper. “And on your wedding day, at that!”

Because drivel is oh so entertaining, Mama.

That and the fact that Phoebe was just the slightest bit curious just how Ethan would manage to make their scandalous ‘courtship’ less so.

“I was just a little curious, Mama…”

Lady Brandon shot her an odd look. “Well, curiosity sometimes leads you down dark paths,” she muttered. She walked over and hugged her daughter briefly. “Besides, you are going to be a duchess—you cannot lower yourself to such common trifles.”

Phoebe smiled weakly. “Are you not the least bit curious what others have to say, Mama?” she asked. “Like the Baron Latimer and his family…”

And the Viscount Dexford.

“Do not fret about all that,” Lady Brandon reassured her, smoothing the delicate golden embroidery over the ivory lace of her wedding dress. “Your father has settled things with the Viscount, and His Grace assured us that there would be no trouble from Miss Delaney.”

“I see.”

Lady Brandon nodded emphatically. “Now, get those worries out of your pretty head before you walk down the aisle, dearest. A bride should be the most beautiful on her wedding day! Ella, the pearls, please!”

“Oh no, Mama! No more pearls!” Phoebe groaned in dismay. “Any more and I shall topple over. I am barely able to hold my head up as it is…”

“Nonsense! You are going to be a duchess. You must look the part, my dear!”

“Well, she does look the part, Mama!” a laughing voice came from the doorway. Alice smiled widely at her sister. “You look absolutely radiant, dear sister. Quite possibly the most radiant bride of them all.”

“Indeed,” Evie seconded from behind her. She looked at Phoebe with approval. “Ethan will be unable to take his eyes off you.”

Scarlett bounded in after them, her brilliant red hair gleaming in the sunlight. She grinned mischievously at Phoebe and winked.

“His Grace will never know what hit him,” she affirmed. “If he does not react as you wish, you can always turn around and walk right back out!”

“Now, now, now.” Lady Brandon laughed. “Don’t you be giving Phoebe any ideas.”

The other young ladies—two of them already duchesses—burst into laughter. With the sunlight streaming gloriously through the windows, the entire scene presented a beautiful picture of camaraderie.

Alice went over to her sister and took her hands. “How are you feeling, my dear?”

Phoebe shuddered and managed a weak smile. “Terrified, actually.”

“Come now.” Her older sister laughed. “You cannot still think that Wolves eat people!”

Phoebe blushed at her words, recalling the look Ethan had given her in the parlor a week ago.

“It was a long time ago, Alice, and I know better now,” she told her sister. “But…”

“But what?”

She gave a little shudder. “It cannot be denied that a Wolf like Ethan probably has young ladies like me for breakfast.”

She saw her sister and Evie exchange knowing smiles.

“You never know, Phoebe.” Evie smiled mischievously at her. “You might even like it.”

“That’s what he said as well!” Phoebe huffed out in frustration.

“Well, if you look like that, then he is going to want you for breakfast, lunch, and dinner!” Scarlett declared. “Maybe even afternoon tea as well, if he has the strength for it!”

Recalling the hard plane of muscle she felt under his linen shirt, Phoebe had no doubt that Ethan very much had the strength for it.

“Scarlett!” Alice gasped in censure, but there was no rancor in her tone.

Lady Brandon barely managed to let out a strangled sound. “I… I think I should leave you young ladies to talk,” she choked out, before she hastily left the room, muttering something about getting more pearls.

“But Phoebe is getting married. She has to have at least an idea about it!” the redhead argued.

“ You are not even betrothed yet, and you already have such ideas!”

“When I do get betrothed or married or whatever, I would expect a great deal from the gentleman!” Scarlett looked galled. “Heavens help me if I marry a man who can hardly kiss.”

Phoebe looked at her sister and their friends helplessly. Both Alice and Evie were happily married to husbands who loved them more than the world itself.

As for Scarlett… well, she had gentlemen falling over themselves for even a chance to talk to her. Phoebe was certain that any man she married would be more than happy to worship the ground she walked on.

“Dearest, Ethan may appear… well, unserious at times.” Alice smiled at her sister. “But he will not treat you badly. Colin and I will make sure of that.”

Somehow, that did not have the desired calming effect.

Phoebe shook her head. “I—I cannot allow a man to simply waltz right in and ruin my life!”

“Honestly speaking, my dear, you compromised him,” Scarlett pointed out.

“I cannot just let him do what he pleases when it pleases him!”

By now, Phoebe was quite certain she was ranting. The complaints that had been stewing in her chest for the past week were now bubbling and spilling out of her mouth.

“Do you think he will be faithful?” she asked them. “Or would I have to bear it like a good wife while my husband considerately seeks out his mistress?”

The room fell silent, and for a while, all Phoebe could hear were her ragged breaths.

A wedding should be a happy event—or so she had been told.

Instead, she had jumped from an arranged betrothal to a man she barely knew to a marriage to a man she knew all too well.

Just as she was on the verge of tears, she felt warm comforting hands envelop her tense ones. She looked up to find her older sister giving her a gentle look.

“I cannot give you the assurance you seek, Sister,” Alice murmured. “But maybe marriage will tame him.”

“That sounds very reassuring,” Phoebe snorted bitterly.

“I felt the same way about Colin,” her sister told her with a half-smile. “And unlike your Ethan, my husband had every intention of fighting matrimony all the way to the altar. Now, I cannot imagine myself with anyone else. He has become the man of my dreams, and despite his doubts, I am certain he will make a wonderful father.”

Two pairs of eyes swiveled over to Alice, who blushed and looked down at her still-flat stomach.

“You cannot mean to say—” Evie gasped.

The Duchess of Blackthorn nodded shyly in confirmation.

“I am going to be an aunt!” Evie breathed. “Phoebe, we are going to be aunts!”

“Oh, that is such wonderful news!”

The tense room was once again filled with excited chatter as everyone gathered to congratulate Alice. The newly pregnant Duchess smiled at everyone as she squeezed her sister’s hand.

“See, Phoebe?” she told her softly. “Some things do work out for the best. You just have to have a little faith, and perhaps a bit of daring to risk it all.”

But was that not the biggest difference between the two of them? While Alice was daring, getting into all sorts of trouble, Phoebe was the cautious one, forever afraid of venturing out of her comfort zone.

And what did she reap for all her painstaking efforts to stay on the straight and narrow path?

An arranged marriage.

Her public declaration for the Duke of Sin had been the most impulsive thing she had ever done in her life.

Heaven help her, but she would much rather have it be her last.

“I am so happy it worked out for you,” she told her sister, squeezing her hands back. She smiled up at Evie. “For both of you. However, I will not be humiliated by the Duke’s peccadilloes.”

Scarlett wrinkled her nose. “Peccadilloes?”

“Yes, his peccadilloes.” Phoebe nodded. “After all, while dallying with courtesans and opera singers might be seen as fashionable by the ton, I cannot stand it.”

She stood up and reached for the veil that had been carefully draped over a hanger-form, the sheer lace so thin that it felt like it had been woven from spider webs.

With a sigh, she put it on and turned to look at herself in the mirror.

What resplendent or radiant bride? She looked as if she was going to face her executioner!

She turned towards her sister and friends with a resolute smile.

“I know that I have caused my parents undue embarrassment by my actions, and I shall set it right,” she declared. “I shall marry the Duke of Sinclair for their sake, but I shall keep my distance.”

After all, if he is incapable of giving me his heart, why should I surrender mine to him?

Phoebe knew better than to give all of herself over to the man who would be her husband.

She would not be so foolish as to think that a Wolf would not bite her hand, even if she had been the one to feed him.

For the second time in a week, Ethan found himself on the altar, waiting for his bride to walk down the aisle.

“You seem in better spirits this time around,” Hudson noted dryly. “Could it be that your previous experience has made you calmer overall?”

“Oh, do shut up, Hudson.” Ethan smirked. “My wedding is supposed to be a festive occasion. I shall not countenance your ill humor on such a day.”

“Says the man who could not wait to be rid of his bride just a week ago.”

“Well, Lady Phoebe is different.” Ethan shrugged. “She is… actually interesting.”

“Interesting?” Colin regarded him with a raised eyebrow. “You had better expound on what you mean by that, Ethan, or I swear I will break your jaw if you hurt her—wedding or not.”

Ethan laughed. “Do you think so lowly of me, old friend? Indeed, I shall make sure that Lady Phoebe is kept happily occupied for the rest of our lives as a wedded couple.”

“Why, you rascal!”

“I would not antagonize him further if I were you, Ethan,” Daniel interjected drolly. “He made a fine attempt to break my nose when he discovered Evie and I were married.”

“You married my sister without even informing me, her guardian!” Colin protested.

“I informed your grandmother. It was all the consent I needed.”

Before Daniel could rile Colin up some more, Hudson subtly stepped in between them. He gave both men a stern glare, raising an eyebrow at Colin, who glared defiantly back at him.

“Mind yourselves,” he warned both of them. “This is not the time for your antics.”

“Thank you, Hudson.” Ethan grinned at their stoic friend. “Gentlemen, I would prefer not to have any bloodshed on my wedding day. Colin, I know you are justified in your anger, and Daniel, everyone knows you could have easily avoided that or even countered…” he trailed off when the doors at the end of the grand ballroom opened.

The morning sunlight streamed from behind, illuminating Phoebe’s delicate figure until it seemed as if she was bathed in a halo of golden light.

She was resplendent—utterly and completely beyond compare.

His bride.

His Duchess.

And she was scowling at him.

Delightful .