Page 12 of Wedded to the Cruel Duke

But she knew everybody in the Spinster Club—nobody would dare to do such an underhanded thing. If she had truly left it in Cartwright Hall, then Miss Cartwright would have sent her a message posthaste to inform her about it. She wouldnevereven consider taking a peek into its contents. That was simply vile.

The same went for everybody else.

Well, everybody… except perhaps Miss Thomas.

But she could not have beenthatspiteful, could she?Phoebe thought to herself miserably.

Except it was a tragic fact that therewereindeed a great many despicable people in the world and perhaps, Miss Thomas may have joined their ranks.

What do I do now?Phoebe felt as if her bile was coming back up her throat.How do I tell everybody that this is my fault for being so careless with my things?

How could she ever face Daphne, whose heart had been broken at the prospect of having to break things off with Lord Brunswick before they had even begun?

How could she face Minerva, who was already fearful enough of coming out? After this scandal, it would be a wonder if she could ever find the courage to make her bow.

And most of all, how could she ever look her mother and father in the eye, after they had both been so compassionate and understanding for so long?

If her family were to ever blame her, she would not have contested their anger. Shewasresponsible for this.

Somehow.

But they had to know that she never did anything scandalous. She never had anything to do with the Marquess—well, except trespassing onto his property last night—but that was beside the point.

With a sigh and a determined look in her eyes, she stood up and headed back down to the parlor, where her family was still gathered—only this time, her father had an equally fierce and determined look in his eye.

“Phoebe, are you sure you are ready to hear this?” he asked her as she walked into the room.

She nodded. “I shall listen to whatever you have to say, Papa.”

“Good.” Her father’s voice was firm. Unyielding. “But first, you have to be honest with me—what is your relationship with the Marquess of Wentworth?”

Although she had steeled herself prior to heading back to the parlor, Phoebe still felt slightly taken aback by her father’s bluntness.

“There is no such relationship between me and the Marquess of Wentworth,” she told him softly. She raised her chin and looked him in the eye. “There never was.”

“Of course, there never was!’ Lady Townsend shot to her feet angrily. “You, of all people, should know your daughter better than anybody else!”

“I know, Catherine,” he sighed. “I just want to make sure we have all options considered before we make our next steps.”

“Well, what are our next steps?”

Phoebe felt like sinking deep into the upholstery of the sofa she was sitting on as her parents argued the best possible way to resolve their dilemma. Minerva looked as if she would ratherbe anywhere else, and Daphne looked as if she might burst into tears at any moment.

It was at that moment that Dennyson, their butler, stepped into the room, the look on his face an odd mix of somberness and confusion.

“My Lord, My Lady, I regret to interrupt your discussion, but we have a guest at the door—”

“Not now, Dennyson! Can you not see that we are in the middle of a serious discussion?”

Their loyal butler pressed his lips together. “My Lord, I think you would not want to turn this particular caller away…”

“Dennyson,” Lady Townsend said with a sigh. “We truly do not have the capacity to deal with any callers right now.”

“It is His Lordship,” Dennyson enunciated. “The Marquess of Wentworth. He is at the door and he demands to see Lord and Lady Townsend, as well as Miss Phoebe Townsend, as per his words.”

A shocked silence descended upon the occupants of the parlor at his message. Lord and Lady Townsend stood stock still in the middle of the room. Daphne looked as if somebody had told her His Majesty was at the door, while Minerva had a slight smile on her face.

“I think that the solution to our dilemma has arrived,” she said simply.