Page 61 of A Bride for the Duke of Sin

“The Marquess did lament the fact that you were much too well-behaved for a normal child, Your Grace,” Ella confided softly. “He feared that one day, the angels would come and whisk you off to join them.”

“He did?”

The maid nodded in affirmation. “Oh, yes. That was why he would sigh in relief on the rare occasions you were not so well-behaved.”

“Oh.”

Phoebe had never thought her papa would think that way, not when she had worked so hard to be the perfect daughter as a young girl, and when it was her time to make her bow, the perfect debutante. When the other ladies praised her mama for raising such a perfect young lady, she wore that badge with honor, even though her heart raged against the prison bars she had constructed for herself.

“So, you see, Your Grace, you need not worry so much,” Ella told her smilingly. “His Grace found you irresistible in your night railwith your hair undone. Surely, he would not be offended by an imperfect coiffure.”

Phoebe felt the blood rushing to her face. “So, you knew?” she muttered weakly.

The maid looked down to avoid meeting her gaze. “We were all elated for you, Your Grace. Morton declared it was high time His Grace did his husbandly duty.”

Except that Ethan had not, and not for lack of trying, no.

In any other household, servants talking about their masters would have warranted severe punishment. Phoebe, however, had always been of the mind that the servants always knew more than they let on, and if she wished to enjoy her days as a duchess in Sinclair Estate, then she should exercise a bit more leniency as the lady of the house.

Besides, how could she punish faithful servants who were only happy for her?

“The Duke might not be so happy to hear you talking of such things,” she reminded Ella quietly. “But I appreciate the thought, Ella. I truly do.”

The maid bit her lower lip and nodded as she continued to brush her hair. “Do you… not like the Duke, Your Grace?” she finally asked hesitantly.

Did not like him? Phoebe feared that she liked the man a little too much.

“It is not that I do not like him, Ella…”

“Does he not make you happy?”

“He does. It is just that…” she trailed off with a sigh.

It is just that he refuses to give his heart to me, even as I am prepared to give him all of mine.

“His Grace holds a deep affection for you, Your Grace,” Ella told her. “In my experience, men are rarely as patient with women as His Grace is with you.”

“He does not love me, Ella,” Phoebe told her bitterly. “He thinks love to be a destructive thing.”

“Is it not, though? Begging your pardon, Your Grace, but a great many have been destroyed by love or what appears like it.”

“What appears like it?” Phoebe paused, and then her eyes widened as she recalled Ethan’s words from last night.

“What my father did to my mother and I, thinking he owned us…”

His father’s version of ‘love’ had been the only one Ethan had ever witnessed in his youth, and in turn, it had warped his understanding of it. Only, it had not really been love but an obsession driven by the need to possess and subjugate.

But Ethan was none of those things. Phoebe had told him as much last night, but these were demons that had clung to his soul for so long.

How was she to show him just how beautiful true love could be when she had not even experienced it for herself?

And would she be enough to heal the wounds that his father had inflicted on him as a child?

Ethan arrived at Sinclair Estate a little earlier to hand over the box of bonbons to Morton.

“Have these served at tea with the Duchess later,” he instructed the butler.

“Right away, Your Grace.”

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