Not My Idea (A Gentleman of Misfortune Book One (Rough Draft))

Chapter Eight

Looking away from the sketchbook, I faced Phoebe, ready to hear her explanation. She bit her lip though and wrung her hands together. "Phoebe, my dearest," Miles said, catching Phoebe's hands in his. "Why did you not wait for me? Do you think so little of me you did not trust me to turn things around?"

With a pitiful sniff, Phoebe pulled her hands free and threw her arms around him. "I am so sorry, Miles. I never doubted you, and it pains me to know I have hurt you so. I had no choice. It was terrible. My parents were so insistent."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and faced Miss Darkin. "Can you explain what prompted this madness?" There had to be someone with some degree of sense I could speak to as it seemed most everyone else had run mad while I was away.

Sighing, she nodded. "It all began in the afternoon yesterday. I insisted Phoebe needed to tell her parents the decision you both had come to sooner rather than later. After all, why put something off when you can face it head on? She was understandably nervous about this so I agreed to broach the topic over tea."

Her matter of fact tone of voice was a relief in comparison to Phoebe's dramatics. "A simple enough plan. What went wrong?"

"Well, I began to explain to my parents how repulsive the idea was," Phoebe said before Miss Darkin could continue. She untangled herself from my best friend's embrace. "I barely said two words before Papa said how pleased he was my future was provided for because he couldn't see how anyone else would be right for me."

Miles' expression became offended. "It would not have been that difficult to point out the benefits of marrying Miles," I said when Phoebe paused to wipe tears away. I should never have come home and allowed people to think I was a terrible son.

"Don't you understand?" Phoebe said exasperation filling her voice. "In my father's eyes, my Season had been uneventful. I did not catch the eye of any one of any importance, and no offers were made."

I was still confused, and Miles objected. "No one of any importance? Well, that is not what a fellow likes to hear about himself."

Phoebe clutched his arm. "Oh, you know I do not feel that way, Miles. It is what Papa says."

"Why did you not explain your affections were engaged by Miles and you were expecting an offer?" I asked, trying to get the conversation back on track. Why had a Season ever been granted Phoebe if she was all but betrothed to me? Mr. Ramsey could not have expected a gentleman to offer to a girl already engaged since it was apparently well known to everyone but me.

"Because I do not know when that will be!" she said, her adoring look turning accusatory. She glared at my best friend. "It is unkind. You both are so mean to me."

In turn, Miles shifted his gaze away, guilt written on his face. "Out with it, Miles," I said. Why did I feel as though I had to pull every word of this explanation from them both? Only Miss Darkin had been open with what she knew. "Did you not come down with that purpose in mind?"

"Of course, but there is a good reason why I cannot at this moment. One I will explain to you later, Luke. Not in front of the ladies."

For a moment, I thought Phoebe would throw a tantrum to rival ones she used to have as a child. "In any event, I made the suggestion that if Phoebe's happiness were at stake, a different gentleman might be welcomed," Miss Darkin said swiftly. "I'm afraid I only made things worse by saying it. Mrs. Ramsey was alarmed by the notion and demanded to know what Phoebe had done to disgust you."

"I could not convince them it was not my fault and a lady had the right to refuse anyone she liked," Phoebe said. "Which my father took to mean I am rebellious and disobedient. The next thing I knew, I was explaining how you and I had met in the morning and had agreed to pursue a courtship. I said we wished to keep it quiet until your mother's health improved, Luke."