Page 11 of Wedded to the Cruel Duke

But it will take a long, long time, Phoebe finished in her thoughts.Possibly never.

Thetonwas quick to judge and merciless. Beyond that, everyone was also possessed of an excellent, ifconvenient, memory.

Even if Lord Brunswick did not retract his invitation for the dinner, Daphne would only be subjected to further embarrassment should she persist in attending the dinner—and that was something Phoebe knew that their mother would never allow.

She saw her youngest sister duck her head wordlessly, the sheen of tears bright in her eyes. Only last night, they had been shining with so much excitement and hope. Now, they were filled with heartbreak and despair.

“We cannot remain here any longer,” Lady Townsend muttered, standing up suddenly. “We need to move away—someplace far away where the scandal has not yet reached.”

“Move where?” Lord Townsend asked her. “By now, everyone in London and their servants will be talking about it. Word of it will reach the countryside before we know it.”

“Oh, Keaton! There must besomethingwe could do!” their mother cried out. “If we do not do something, Minerva and Daphne will be ruined as well!”

Phoebe bit her lower lip as she stared soullessly at her shoes. She still could not fathom how a scandal about her and theMarquess of Wentworthcould ever land itself on the papers. She had never had any interaction with him aside from last night when she found herself in that…room.

Even then, their chance encounter had been so short, and she had been more terrified than seduced that she had ended uprunning back to Townsend House as if the very hounds of hell were snapping at her heels.

Evenifsomeone had seen them—which was highly unlikely—how could they ever think that there was such a torrid love affair between them?

“I still cannot believe someone could make up such a horrible thing,” Daphne said with a shake of her head. “The paper mentions a diary, but even that is dubious at best…”

At her words, Phoebe’s head immediately snapped up, her brows drawn into a frown that was more confused than worried.

A diary? They could not have possibly meantmydiary…

Her heart pounded in her chest as she stood up, her legs shaking.

“Phoebe, dearest, where are you going?” Lady Townsend asked her in concern. “Do you feel unwell?”

She shook her head and then nodded. And then shook it again.

“Forgive me, Mama. I must return to my rooms,” she murmured.

Her mother regarded her with a heartbroken look, before nodding and wordlessly excusing her from the parlor. Her father, too, gave her a curt nod.

It was all she needed to leave the room.

As soon as she had gone through the door, she ran back upstairs to her bedchamber, her heart pounding loudly in her chest, threatening to drown out everything else.

Nobody had ever been privy to her diary, although it was a familiar enough sight to see her with it. She brought it with her almost everywhere, to take note of the things around her and ponder upon them when she had more time alone.

Last night, she had been so disturbed by her meeting with Lord Wentworth that she did not even think to write in her diary. It was only when Daphne made mention of it that she evenrememberedit.

She saw her satchel on her writing desk and immediately upended its contents upon the gleaming wooden surface. A pencil tumbled out, as well as some personal items that she never went anywhere without.

But her diary was not there.

Her heart sank as she slowly lowered herself to her chair, her legs unable to bear the weight of the realization that shemighthave been responsible for the ruination of her entire family.

With trembling hands, she reached for her satchel and searched its shallow depths. There was still no sign of her diary.

Somebody has my diary, she thought to herself in despair.Somebody has it and they have given it to the papers!

But who would have done such a thing? And where could she have misplaced such an incriminating object?

She knocked onto her head as she forced herself to think where she could have possibly lost it, when it hit her—Cartwright Hall.

The Spinster Club!