When the Earl Met His Match (Wedded by Scandal #4) - Stacy Reid Page 0,98

her heart jerking. Something had changed. She fought hard against the tears she refused to let fall.

“I did not betray you,” she said softly into the darkness. “Never once did I think of leaving, and if the viscount had not drugged and taken me away, I would still be in Scotland with you and Franny.”

Silence lingered, and her breath rose and fell unevenly.

“I would never leave because you are my family…and I…I love you…so very much.”

More silence. Of course, she would not see if he signed in the dark. Though she suspected he had not shifted at all, she could feel the potency of his stare on her, as if he could see her clearly. She was bewildered by his demeanor and could not understand why he had retreated to the aloof gentleman he had appeared to be when they had just met. When he made no move, she shimmied down and lay on her side, unable to understand the raw ache that was suffusing her heart.

He moved, and she closed her eyes as he slid his arm around her shoulder and drew her into the curve of his arms. A soft breath caressed her forehead, and she sensed he lowered to kiss her there, as he did each night before they slept. Phoebe held her breath waiting for that kiss, but then his breath vanished. He had changed his mind.

There was a rustle as he drew the thick coverlet over their bodies. They lay in the darkness, each unable to sleep. Though his chest rose and fell evenly, she knew he was awake. So many questions swirled in her mind; so many anxieties burrowed in her heart.

“Why does it feel different between us?” she whispered.

Nothing indicated that he heard her soft entreaty. She recalled the old earl warning that Hugh was not a man given to sentimentality. Yet before this trip to London, she had felt certain he held great affection for her in his heart, and she was so certain they had been fated to meet and have a grand love despite their rocky beginning. Am I just a naïve, silly girl? Her throat burned with supressed tears at the notion of losing a love she had felt blooming between them.

Do not be silly, she warned herself fiercely. You knew from the beginning he did not believe in love and that you should have no expectation of it in this marriage of convenience. A stubborn tear leaked from her eyes, and she gently wiped it away. Oh, but I want it so very much. And when something was worth fighting for, she would not shy away from doing so. Her reckless, impetuous spirit surged, and she twisted in the cage of his arms, to encounter a gleam of brilliant blue in the darkness.

You are awake, she silently said. What thoughts keep you from sleep? Are they the same as mine?

Phoebe wasn’t certain how long she stared into the faint shimmering silk of the overhead canopy before the darkness of sleep lured her away from her tormenting thoughts.

Chapter Eighteen

The next day, Phoebe called upon her brother to bid him adieu. The duke was still away on a trip to Italy, so she had been spared meeting him on this trip. Not that she was at all anxious about a confrontation with her father. Phoebe suspected it was the annual trip he took there with his mistress. It was always under the pretext of meeting business investors, but she had been able to tell because the duchess would spend each night at a ball as if to distract herself from the knowledge that her husband was with another woman. Often, Phoebe wondered if the duchess had a similar discreet arrangement.

She had left a note at home for Hugh, and once he finished his meeting with his man of affairs, he would pay a visit to Richard. She knocked on the library door and opened it, smiling at the sight of Evie and her brother locked in a passionate embrace.

Evie pulled away and patted her elegant coiffeur, a delightful blush on her lovely face.

“I shall leave you both alone,” she said, with a wide smile at Phoebe. “When your lord arrives, I will insist that he stay for dinner. I will go and organize the menu now.”

Phoebe nodded, and soon she was alone with Richard.

“I admit when I saw Lord Albury last night staring at you, I did not gather he was your husband, but a scoundrel I would have to