“I thought so.”
Phoebe smiled softly at him and said, “She must care for you a lot, to worry about you so much.”
Edward was willing to acknowledge that fact, if only just this once, with his aunt nowhere in sight.
“She does. As I care for her. But you do not see me going about in an attempt to cause her great stress.”
The conversation had found, somewhere in the last several minutes, a lightness that Edward had not anticipated and was not entirely certain what to do with. She seemed comfortable here — in his study, of all places, and he found that he was growing accustomed to the idea of seeing her in that very chair more often.
He cleared his throat. “There is the matter of the Ravencroft ball.”
Her expression shifted slightly and the openness dimmed slightly “Yes. I recall that it is to take place soon.”
“It is to take place in a fortnight and it will be hosted by the wife of a friend. The duke and duchess of Ravencroft will be our precious hosts for that evening — though gracious is not a word I would use to describe the Duke of Ravencroft. Are you ready?”
“Do I have a choice?”
Although her words sounded cutting, she looked only exasperated.
“You should wear your most extravagant dress,” he instructed instead of addressing her remark. “You should look every bit the duchess of Montford.”
Phoebe pursed her lips thoughtfully then nodded.
“I have a dress I am sure will be suitable but …” She exhaled deeply. “I confess I am somewhat nervous about it. Going out. Being seen in this new capacity.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“I am not oblivious,” he remarked, dryly. “I understand that being presented to society as the Duchess of Montford, is no small feat.”
He met her eyes as he assured. “I intend to be by your side the entire evening. I will not abandon you to navigate it alone.”
She looked at him for a moment, then the tension in her shoulders eased, if only slightly.
“Thank you,” she expressed sincerely.
Edward nodded and watched as she rose to her feet and left without another word, wondering why his marriage seemed to be growing more complicated by the day.
Despite containing a large number of people, ballroom of the Ravencroft estate made Phoebe felt like a little fish swimming alone in a large pond the moment she walked in.
Phoebe had known this was going to be the case. She had prepared herself for it. She had stood before the mirror in her dressing room for a full twenty minutes while her lady’s maid dressed her hair, and she had told herself, that this circumstance would not be what would break her.
She had survived the fire. She has survived the loss of her parents. She had survived her first season. She had sat across a drawing room from Barbara Vale and not faltered.
She could manage a ball.
Still… it was usually easier to claim those things than it was to do it. When the carriage drew up to the Ravencroft house, and she looked out at the lit windows and the line of carriages ahead, letting her gaze wander with the stream of people moving up the steps in their silks and jewels, she felt the composure she had constructed very carefully over the last few days crumble slightly.
Then their carriage door opened, Edward stepped down and then turned to offer his hand, looking every bit a distinguished gentleman. With a deep inhale, she took it and stepped out into the cool evening air.
His gaze moved over her slowly, taking in the deep green silk dress, the way its sleeves hung delicately to the curve of her shoulders, how the bodice teased her ample bosom and delicate swell of her hips and then came back to her face, likely noticing how red her cheeks had gotten under his scrutiny.
And simply, quietly, he told her, “You look beautiful.”
Phoebe was not, generally, a person who was made uncertain by compliments. She had learned long ago that compliments were sometimes currency and sometimes misdirection and only occasionally simply what they appeared to be. But somethingabout the way he said it — direct and simple, without any fuss — moved through her defences quite cleanly.
“Thank you,” she replied, ignoring the flush of delight that ran through her and took his arm.