Even though she grinned at Morgan’s plight, it was her promised duty to help him out of the melee that his appearance had caused. That was, of course, she told herself, the only reason she felt a bit annoyed at all the young women—and their mamas—crowding him so the man could hardly move.

With the acquired expertise of two Seasons dealing with over-eager young ladies, she worked her way into the throng to end up at Morgan’s side. “Your Grace, there is someone I would like you to meet.” She firmly planted her hand on his arm and nudged him to move forward.

Once they had made their way from the group, he leaned in. “Thank you. It was quite surprising. I never have that much attention at these things.”

“Ah, but word has spread that you are looking for a bride. You can expect this at every event you attend.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to marry me?”

She shook her head. “Do you love me?”

He actually hesitated which made her heart skip a beat. Why did he have to think about it?

“No.”

That was not disappointment she felt. It was relief, since with their brief acquaintance that would only be a lie.

“There. So you see, my answer remains the same. Now, instead of looking for an easy way out, let’s stroll while I look over the young ladies here and see who might suit.”

“Mother has invited Lord and Lady Stevenson and their daughter, Lady Brenda, for dinner next week. What do you think of her?”

Lady Brenda. Oh, dear. Phoebe knew her from school. She was an ambitious, greedy, snippy girl who could turn on the charm whenever it suited her. Poor Morgan did not have a chance for a peaceful life with that termagant.

“Not to disparage any young lady, Your Grace, but I believe she would not suit. No, definitely not suit.”

“Why not?”

Phoebe sighed, not wishing to speak badly of the young woman in question, but he deserved the truth. Especially if his mother was trying to force them together. “She will be quite charming, but I knew her in boarding school. Underneath that charm is a young woman who could make your life miserable if she did not get her way in all things. I suggest you suffer through the dinner, and do not allow yourself to be caught alone with her for any reason.”

His brows rose. “She would do something like that?”

Phoebe patted his arm. “My dear man, you are so knowledgeable in all things ducal, but ’tis a pity that the way of the social world is beyond you. Trust me to direct you in the correct direction if you are determined to have a wife this Season.”

Morgan snorted. “I am not as determined as my mother is.” They walked a few more steps, and he said, “I would not be surprised if The Duchess arranges for me and Lady Brenda to be alone just to move forward with her plans.”

Phoebe could not imagine having a mother who would manipulate her child to get her own way. The Duchess would tie her son to a woman who could make his life very uncomfortable just to have a say in who he married. “Is she fond of Lady Brenda?”

“I’m not sure. What I do know is she is fond of a certain type of woman. She must possess a list of traits that Mother feels is suitable and necessary in a duchess.”

“But what do you want?”

He grinned at her, again reminding her that this outwardly cold man presented a persona he’d established to hide from the world. “Besides someone who laughs? I want to be left alone.”

Phoebe shook her head. “No. You don’t. Want to be left alone, that is.”

“Indeed? And do you feel you know me so well as to make that statement?”

“You are a duke. Despite any pressure from your mother, no one can gainsay you except the Prince Regent. If you truly did not want to secure a wife, you would not do so. Of course, there is the duty to your title to consider.

“But I think you really need someone in your life who is not afraid of your coldness. Someone who will take the trouble to see beneath your exterior to the real you. Someone who would care for you.” She hurried on. “But not love. I know you are not interested in love.”

He slowed his steps and turned to her. “You just described yourself.”

Oh, lord, if the man kept looking at her like that and saying those things, she would capitulate and fall in love with him. But he didn’t love her, would probably never love her, and living year after year with someone like that would break her heart. And she never ascribed to the theory of “love at first sight” which is what it would be if she felt that strongly for him already.

“Someone like me. Yes.” She nudged him to move along. “But not me.”

After two hours of nodding at Morgan when a young lady she thought might suit spoke with him and shaking her head furiously at those who were firmly on her approach with caution list, she was ready to leave. She had a headache, the room was much too stuffy, and her feet hurt.

“I must admit, I experienced a great deal of fun watching the performance between you and Your Grace for the last couple of hours.” Prudence smirked at her as she joined Phoebe standing near the French doors. “Why are you doing this?”

Phoebe glanced away from where he was surrounded by young ladies again. “His Grace is a much better person than everyone sees. Yes, I realize I haven’t known him long, but the little bit of time I’ve spent with him convinces me he needs so much more than what he is willing to settle for.”

Her sister studied her, a slight smile forming on her lips. “Is that so? Perhaps you believe what he really needs is you.”

“He thinks so.”

Pru’s eyes grew wide. “What? Are you keeping something from me? Your twin, your lifelong best friend?”

“Actually, he has asked me to marry him. More than once.”

Her sister nearly choked on the ratafia she sipped. “And you turned him down? A duke? Does Mother know this?”

“Shh.” Phoebe looked over her shoulder where their mother spoke with Lady Bancroft. “No. He wasn’t serious.”

“A man doesn’t ask a young lady to marry him more than once if he isn’t serious.” She looked from Phoebe to His Grace who looked downright panicked at the three young ladies standing in front of him chatting away, each one trying to outdo the other. “I believe there is more going on here than you are admitting to.”

Phoebe drew herself up. “I have no idea what you mean.”

“Yes. You do. That is precisely why your face is red.”

“It is not!”

“Yes, it is.”

Phoebe had to squelch the desire to stomp her foot like a recalcitrant child. Right on top of her sister’s foot. “The only thing going on is His Grace’s mother wants him to marry someone who I believe is totally unsuitable for him. Someone who will not recognize the man underneath the cold exterior. Someone who will make his life miserable. Someone who will demand everything from him except his affection.” She stopped to take a breath. “He deserves someone better than that.”

“You mean someone like you.”

“Yes!”

“But not you.”

“Correct.”

“Hmm.” Prudence sipped more of her drink and gestured toward Morgan. “I think you had better rescue His Grace. He looks decidedly uncomfortable.”

Phoebe placed the empty glass she’d been holding on a tray a footman carried and moved toward Morgan and his admirers. The relief on his face tore at her heart. It took a few minutes to displace the women surrounding him, but eventually she made it to his side. “Your Grace, I believe my mother is ready to leave.”

The girls all glared at her as if she were stealing the only biscuit on the plate. “If you will excuse us, ladies, His Grace escorted us.”

“I will be happy to have our driver bring you home, Your Grace.” Miss Andrews batted her eyes so furiously Phoebe thought Morgan’s cravat would become undone.

“His Grace escorted us in his carriage,” Phoebe said, nudging Morgan to move forward. Honestly, wasn’t there a single woman here who didn’t have designs on the Duke of St. Albans?

Not likely.

Morgan led Lady Pomeroy and her daughters to his carriage, his body finally relaxing for the first time since he had stepped foot in the Montford home. Maybe he could kidnap Lady Phoebe and escape to Gretna Green to get this marriage business over with. That was beginning to look like the best plan.

He had no idea which one of the young ladies he spoke with tonight that Phoebe had given her nod to would be someone to court. Right now the only woman he wished to spend time with was Phoebe. Since she refused to marry him, that would not be the best use of his time.

Once they all settled in, with Phoebe sitting next to him facing backward and Lady Pomeroy and Lady Prudence facing forward, Lady Pomeroy let out a sigh, not speaking to anyone in particular. “I find these events more tiresome as the years go on.”

Lady Prudence nodded. “I prefer balls to soirees. At least there is dancing. All this standing about only makes my feet hurt.”

“Mine, too,” Phoebe added. “I also find soirees are much more crowded since just about everyone who is invited shows up, afraid to be thought of as not invited.”

“As soon as you girls marry, there will be no more need for this constant filling our calendar with such events each year.”

After Lady Pomeroy’s statement, both she and Lady Prudence turned to look at Phoebe. Pretending to look out the window of the carriage, Morgan watched Phoebe as a charming red hue covered her face in the light from the lantern by her side.

Surely, they didn’t think she would jump into marriage merely to avoid the Season? Or did they know about his proposals to her?

Seeming to want to fill the ensuing silence, Phoebe said, “At least we have two nights off before the next event. The Ponsoby ball for Lady Edith.”

Morgan groaned and looked at her. “Not another ball.”

She patted his hand. “I am afraid so, Your Grace. But if you are to achieve your goal of selecting a wife this Season, you must attend these affairs.”

He didn’t miss the look that passed between Lady Pomeroy and Lady Prudence when they noticed Phoebe’s hand. Yes, either they knew of his proposals or they expected him to declare himself soon.

He brooded the rest of the ride, thinking perhaps he should forget the plan to marry this year. But then again, the same situation would occur any other year he tried to do this. Unless he gave in to Mother and picked one of the young ladies she was so sure would suit.

Then he thought about Phoebe and her statement that he deserved more. Did he? He’d grown so used to loneliness over the years that he was afraid of letting someone in. Of allowing another person to know him like no one else did. Except for Phoebe.

During their few minutes of peace at the soiree, when Phoebe had casually thrown out the question Do you love me, he was quite taken aback. By now he should not be since he knew her to be forthright and quite open. But it had certainly given him pause. He liked her. He liked her a great deal. He respected her, found her humorous and delightful company. But love?

One had to possess a heart to feel love. And they barely knew each other.

Be honest. No one knows me like Phoebe does, even after such a short acquaintance.

The rest of the ride was taken up with the ladies discussing who wore what and who spoke with whom at the soiree.

“Your Grace, would you care for a brandy?” Lady Pomeroy smiled at him once they stepped into the entrance hall while the ladies handed off their outer garments to the footman.

“Yes. I would enjoy that.” Now that he was away from all the young ladies and their ever-persistent mamas, the thought of quiet conversation with a bit of brandy would be an excellent way to end the evening. He felt relaxed with Phoebe. And her family, actually. Except when left alone with her parents as he’d been earlier.

“If you will excuse me, I believe I will retire to my bedchamber.” Lady Prudence attempted to cover a yawn.

“Good night, my dear. I will see you in the morning.” Lady Pomeroy patted her daughter’s cheek. So much touching in this family.

He, Lady Pomeroy, and Phoebe entered the library where Lord Pomeroy sat reading a book. “Well, hello there.” He placed the book alongside him and hopped up. “Who wants a brandy?” He strode to the sideboard after giving his wife a very enthusiastic kiss on the lips. Morgan had never seen his parents kiss.

He glanced over at Phoebe who acted as if this was an everyday occurrence. Apparently it was.

“I would enjoy a brandy.” Morgan sat near Phoebe across from the fireplace. Pomeroy brought two sherries for the ladies and a brandy for himself and Morgan. He settled on the settee next to Lady Pomeroy and proceeded to place his arm around her shoulders and tugged her close to his side. What an unusual couple! His experience with married couples was quite different. No wonder Phoebe wanted to hold out for love. She was raised with it.

All three members of the Pomeroy family chatted away. He was amazed at the easiness of their interactions. Conversation with The Duchess, and with The Duke when he had been alive, had always been stilted and forced, leaving him with a feeling of being quite happy to escape. This family seemed to enjoy being together. He shook his head and smiled as he watched them, almost as if he were viewing a play.

“My apologizes, Your Grace. It seems we’ve been ignoring you.” After about ten minutes, while he ruminated on the differences in this family from his own, Lady Pomeroy turned toward him and looked genuinely distraught. How to tell her he enjoyed being ignored so he could study this unusual family and not be forced to make the polite conversation Phoebe had yet to instruct him on?

“That is quite all right. In fact, I believe it is time for me to depart.” He placed his glass on the table in front of him and stood.

Phoebe stood and shook out her skirts. “I will walk you to the door.”

They strolled together to the entrance where he took his hat and coat from the footman. “Do you ride, Lady Phoebe?”

“Yes. I do. I love to ride.”

“May I call for you tomorrow morning for a ride in Hyde Park?”

“Indeed, you may. My sister does not enjoy riding as much as I, and Mother won’t let me ride alone.”

“Would eleven o’clock be too early?”

Phoebe’s brows rose. “Eleven? So late?”

He smiled. Must have been his third smile of the day. Life was certainly changing since he’d met Lady Phoebe. “I was afraid it was too early, since I thought all young ladies liked to lie abed in the morning.”

She shook her head. “Not me. I prefer early morning when Rotten Row is not so crowded.”

“Then what time shall I call?”

“Eight o’clock.”

“Splendid. I shall call at eight, and we will take an early morning ride.” He had the most absurd notion to kiss her. With the footman standing three feet away, it would certainly not be the thing to do.

It was just that she made him so happy, and kissing her seemed to be the way to express that joy. Instead, he very formally bowed and took her outstretched hand. “Good night, Lady Phoebe.”

She dipped. “Good night, Your Grace.”

They both smiled and then burst out laughing.