Page 8 of A Bride for the Duke of Sin

The rest of the carriage ride was filled with a tense sort of silence for both of its occupants.

For the better part of their journey back to Brandon Estate, the Duke occupied the seat opposite her in silence, his figure a little too stiff than his usual effortless grace.

Meanwhile, Phoebe pretended to be thoroughly fascinated by the dark streets outside. So abysmal was her performance that she was mildly surprised when they finally reached the gates of her family home.

“We have arrived,” the Duke announced.

She nodded blankly. “So we have, it would seem.”

Ever the perfect gentleman, he helped her out of the carriage as if she was dressed in the finest ball gown, despite her poor attire.

Suddenly, she wished that she had at least worn something more presentable. Something a little more ladylike.

How thoroughly embarrassing to be caught in such an outfit before one of the most charming rogues in all of London!

Phoebe pursed her lips. Well, there was nothing to be done about it now. Besides, it was not like she ventured out with the express intention of stumbling uponhim.

This meeting was purely coincidental and would most likelyneverrepeat itself.

Sadly.

“Lady Phoebe!”

She paused, her heart pounding in her chest as she turned towards him.

Standing in the moonlight, his hair seemed to be a much paler gold, his eyes a darker blue. The grin that graced his lips was enough to make her knees go weak and invite her to do something ridiculous.

Well, more ridiculous than aiming to get drunk in a disreputable establishment dressed as a man, certainly.

Like running into his arms.

Phoebe shook her head at her folly. There must be something in the night air that had addled her wits.

Or perhaps she was more distraught about her impending nuptials than she initially thought.

Either way, these werenotthe thoughts she should be entertaining!

“I hope to see you at my wedding,” he told her with a mischievous wink. “Do try to wear a dress for the occasion!”

And then, he hopped back into his carriage, and Phoebe was once more left with the question ofwhyshe ever found him attractive at all.

He was simply insufferable—nothing else!

CHAPTER 3

There is absolutely nothing romantic about a ball.

Phoebe sighed to herself as she trailed after her sister and new brother-in-law to where the light seemed brightest and the sounds loudest.

Balls always seemed far more glorious in fiction than they actually were in real life. The crush of bodies, the endless chatter filling the air… all of it was quite enough to make Phoebe feel claustrophobic.

Not to mention that she very rarely found the dessert scrumptious enough to draw her away from… other activities.

“My dear, try not to look so glum,” Alice remarked softly from beneath her fan. “Although I must admit that I am not overly fond of such gatherings myself.”

“Oh?” Colin, Alice’s husband, raised an eyebrow at his young wife’s words. “What then would you rather be doing, my lamb?”

Phoebe watched as her sister turned a delicate shade of pink. It was quite rare that anyone could affect her sister so, but the Duke of Blackthorn did it with such ease.

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