“Madam—”
“Please, Phoebe, don't call me ma’am, or madam. I despise the formality. You're going to be part of the family, and it’s bad luck for us to start off as if we intend to be anything but friends.” Her eyes twinkled. “Perhaps even allies? Therefore, call me Elise. Yes,” she went on, “when we're in public you must adhere to formalities, but here, in the privacy of your home, we don't need to act like strangers. Now, I'll be honest, I don't care for British formality. A woman can't go here, a woman can't do this. I can’t tell you how often my husband and I have disagreed over that foolishness. However, what happened with you and Kiernan goes beyond these petty constraints.”
Phoebe sighed. “Yes, though I'm loath to admit it, you're right.”
“Good.” The duchess took another sip of tea before saying, “You have decided to marry him, then?”
There was something in her manner that made it impossible to be anything but straightforward. “I'm beginning to wonder if I have any choice,” Phoebe said.
“Phoebe!” The duchess laughed in a hearty manner that would have made British nobility scowl. “You're an honest woman. I like that. Still, it’s not quite as bad as walking the plank. All men can be a trial, but Kiernan is a good man. To be frank, I had wondered what sort of woman would catch his eye.”
“I did not exactly catch his eye, ma-Elise.”
“Not in the usual sense, true, but he is enthusiastic about the marriage.” She halted, her expression turning speculative. “You don't really know anything about him, do you?”
Phoebe lifted her teacup to her lips. “No, I don't.” She took a sip of the tea.
“Well, the fun in your marriage will be getting to know him, but I'll tell you one thing, he doesn’t form attachments easily. Oh, there is the occasional infatuation,” Elise smiled broadly, “but nothing he doesn’t get over within a month or two.”
“I see.” Phoebe leveled her teacup on her lap. “So you and the duke had begun to despair of him marrying?”
Elise laughed again. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but his father hasn’t thought much about it."
“But how is that? He is no young man.”
The duchess’ expression softened. “His father and I didn't marry until he was forty. I was nearly thirty myself.”
“How long have you been married?”
“Nearly thirteen years.”
“Forgive me for saying so, ma-er, Elise, but I can't believe that.”
“So I’ve been told before,” she replied. “Though, I don’t mind hearing it again.” She set her tea on the table. “You realize, Kiernan isn't my son?”
“I knew the duke remarried.”
“Marcus married young, and Kiernan was born when he was twenty-one. Marrying you at thirty, Kiernan is ahead of Marcus' forty years. Don’t you think? Still, this isn’t what you had planned, is it?”
“In truth, no.”
“Pardon me for asking, but do you plan on marrying here, or in Scotland?”
Phoebe started. “I-I hadn't thought of it.”
“We have a wonderful home in Scotland. It is large—immense, actually—just the sort of place for a wedding. Before deciding, perhaps you would like to see it?”
“See it?”
“Yes.”
Scotland. Could it possibly be this easy? Why not? It was only fair that Kiernan MacGregor help her out of the mess he'd gotten her into.
“That is most kind of you, Elise.”
“Not at all,” she replied. “It's the least I can do. And if you decide you want to have the wedding there, you can leave the arrangements to me.”
The door opened and Lady Albery entered the room. Her gaze fell on the pair sitting on the sofa and she stopped.
“Phoebe,” she said, “you didn't tell me we had a guest.” Lady Albery crossed to the sofa and curtsied. “Your Grace,” she murmured, and rose. “Please forgive my niece for not informing me of your arrival.”
The duchess regarded her with an unconcerned air. “Don't trouble yourself, madam. I came to see your niece.”
“But of course.” Lady Albery sat in the chair nearest Phoebe. “You must have been most anxious to meet your future daughter-in-law.”
“Tea, Aunt?” Phoebe inquired.
“Yes,” she replied, “if you please,” then turned back to the duchess. “I hope you find London to your liking.”
“London is always to my liking,” she replied.
“Aunt.” Phoebe handed her the tea.
“Thank you, my dear.”
“Your niece and I were just discussing her visit to our estate in Scotland,” the duchess said. Phoebe caught the surprise on her aunt’s face. “We may go at your convenience, Phoebe,” Elise added.
“What is this?” Lady Albery asked. “You’ve only just returned to us, Phoebe, and already you're leaving?"
Phoebe paused in lifting the cup to her lips. What had her aunt cared one wit for her being at home?