by Stacy Reid
He went to his knee and lifted one of her feet in his hand. With gentle care, he removed her shoes, one after the other, to reveal her stocking-clad feet. Phoebe groaned her relief, staring to see how bad her feet were. They almost felt numb, and another pulse of worry went through her. The doctor she’d seen earlier had assured her that it was quite normal for some women to have swollen limbs, and he recommended a daily constitutional walk for her. He had been frightfully efficient in his examination and had reassured her that all was well with her child.
The Viscount went even lower and removed his boots and revealed his own stocking-clad feet. Phoebe grinned up at him in astonishment when he held out his hands. Then she glanced back down at his feet. A giggle slipped from her, startling her. She hadn’t laughed in such a long time, Phoebe had forgotten what it felt like. She grasped his outstretched hand and was pulled to her feet.
“We will scandalize the household,” she said airily. “But I am terribly charmed by your willingness to take a walk with me on the wild side.”
He blinked and stared at her as if he could not figure her out. Phoebe flushed but refused to lower her gaze from his.
“I can be quite capricious,” she murmured. “Now it is your turn to tell me one of your qualities.” For she was desperate to know something more about this man she would soon be married to and one she would be bound to for the rest of her life.
Dear God. Her heart started to race. This was forever. Marrying a man she knew so little about.
His fingers lifted, then he hesitated, and she felt his frustration like a tangible entity. For a moment, she had forgotten his limitation.
His condition struck her forcibly then. The man she was about to marry was mute. So many questions crowed through her mind, and her heart ached for him. Had he always been mute or was it the cause of an accident? A soft breath shuddered from her at the realization learning about each other would prove even more challenging.
“I…I…” She was not certain what to say.
His expression shuttered to polite civility, and he guided her from the room. Phoebe snuck a few glances at his side profile, unable to understand the sudden pounding of her heart and the anxiety she felt. When Caroline saw them, she stared at their feet for a bit before she smiled and hurried ahead to the chapel. There was a connecting door that they went through, down a narrow corridor. The floor beneath her feet was chilly stone but smooth, and the walls of this hallway, which led to the chapel, were gray stones.
The door was already open, and when they stepped through, Phoebe faltered. Caroline waited at the front with the older man from yesterday. He appeared a bit wan, but he was impeccably dressed in a jacket and suit, with a gray striped waistcoat and cravat.
A man who looked to be a clergyman also waited. She could feel their stare on her high rounded belly, then to her stocking clad feet. The old man looked ready to growl when he noted the Viscount was also without shoes. A slight tug on her arm had Phoebe sliding her feet forward and grabbing Hugh’s arm tightly.
This is my new family. A pounding ache went through her heart. She did not want to lose her old family, even though she knew the duke and duchess would not look at her with such patience and understanding. It baffled her that the older man and Caroline could regard her without any condemnation despite her ruination.
They halted before the man and Caroline. He removed his arm from her and signed. She gathered this was an introduction.
The old man nodded a few times, and his green eyes upon her, while not exactly warm, were not cold, either.
“I am very pleased to meet you, Lady Phoebe,” he said with a gruff yet sincere charm. “I am Edward Winthrop, the Earl of Albury. Welcome to our family.”
Her throat went tight, as too many emotions rippled through her heart. “Thank you for your kindness, Lord Albury,” she said, dipping into a curtsy.
“Well then, let’s get on with it. I won’t live forever,” he said grumpily.
Startled, Phoebe glanced up at Hugh to see that there was a hint of a smile across his mouth, and his eyes were warm with humor. They were all so different from what she had feared; it made no sense. She was obliged to think she had fallen in with a family of charming eccentrics. Inexplicably, she felt overwhelmed, and as they turned to face the Minister, Phoebe tried and failed to suppress a chuckle.
It wasn’t soft or sweet, but rich and full-throated, one the duchess usually rebuked her for. The viscount squeezed her fingers and she glanced at him. “I do,” she said softly.
He stiffened, and then a slow and an utterly alluring smile curved his lips. The earl grunted and sent her such a suspicious glare, it wiped the smile from her mouth. When they faced forward to say their vows, Phoebe silently promised to make the best of her marriage.
Even if there were no love, she would not mind, for she did not need that bit of silliness in her life again. But I’ll make us work. I vow to respect this second chance I am given; I will always act with dignity and decorum…and our marriage shall not be cold at all.
Chapter Seven
About an hour after the minister had pronounced them husband and wife, it occurred to Hugh that he had no notion of what exactly to do with his wife. Staring at her carefully contained expression as she ate the last morsel of cake on her plate, he wondered, What now? He’d satisfied one of his father’s biggest hopes, but how did the cog of her fit into the wheel of his life? Her role once they reached London society was evident to his mind, but what about before then?
It would be months, perhaps even a year, before they could venture to England. It would not be safe for her to travel too often given her pregnancy. Those were the strict instructions of the doctor this morning, and Dr. Edward was a man renowned in Edinburgh for his medical talent.
Phoebe’s confinement should be as stress-free as possible to ensure the safe delivery of the child. And afterward, she would need a few months to recuperate her health and energy.
There it was again. That odd weakness that assailed his heart whenever he thought of the child and that in a few weeks he would assume the role of a father.
What will be required of me?
Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself against the feelings.
“It starts,” his father muttered crossly by his side, tugging at his cravat. “Bloody hell, I warned you, didn’t I? And what did you do? Ignored me and now it has started!”
“What starts?” Hugh signed distractedly, keeping his gaze on his wife.
His heart jolted. He might never get used to the idea that he now had a lady to call his own. The idea that he must marry and now seeing the reality of her were vastly different experiences.
“You are staring at her like a hungry wolf,” the old earl snapped, thumping his cane and drawing Phoebe’s and Caroline’s attention. “First, acting so scandalously in wearing no shoes to the chapel and then this! I can tell that bit was her idea!”
“It was.” And how bold and sweet she had been, very reminiscent of the lady who had penned those fascinating letters. The fear and the uncertainty of the previous night had melted away this morning, and what had glowed in her eyes had been a sort of watchfulness as she took stock of her surroundings and the people in the castle. “I admire that she does not bow to conventions.”
That admission made his father’s scowl turn blacker. “You’ve not been able to take your gaze from her for more than an hour! That is unseemly, my boy, and your preoccupation already shows that you find her compelling.”
Do I find you compelling, Phoebe? No immediate response came back to that silent demand, but he would be a liar to deny that something different and unknown had been stirred inside him from that very first letter he’d received, and it had not abated.
Smoothing his expression to indifference, he shifted and faced his father. “I think I shall invite the widowed viscountess to call upon us. Then perhaps you will
be occupied enough to direct your energy elsewhere, instead of agitating over how long I look at my wife.”
His father spluttered and sent him a stare that promised retribution. Disregarding the old earl, Hugh pondered just how close should he allow Lady Phoebe into his life. Even though his marriage had always been plotted and ruthlessly calculated, it was for better or worse and until death parted them. He prided himself on his level and shrewd judgment of a man or woman’s character, which could be immediately discerned the very first time they met. His wife’s own was a bit difficult to decipher.
He was curious to find out exactly who was this woman who would walk by his side. Was she kind? Did she, too, have the capacity for ruthlessness, especially when it came to protecting her family? Or was she prone to hysteria and fainting spells at the first hint of a problem? How would she truly react when those rumormongers came knocking on their door? With fear and anger, or with her head lifted high and proud?
Her composure now was quite admirable. She was quite aware that she was the recipient of several stares, yet she acted as if it was all unremarkable.
Knowledge bloomed through Hugh. That careful grace he witnessed was all a contrived act, and he wondered at the true heart of the woman before him. Hugh listed the attributes he’d observed.
She is bold and reckless.
She is courageous.
The very notion that she could dare to rebel against a powerful duke and duchess spoke to her vibrant and unflinching spirit. She would not be a lady overset by nerves or such nonsense in times of difficulty.
She does not hesitate to speak her fears or her hopes.
She once believed in love.
That bit of silliness would easily be cured. Love had clearly disappointed her and left her to deal with her parents and society’s wrath on her own. Surely from now on, practicality would guide her decisions.
My lady wife also seems to have an incurable sweet tooth.
The luncheon that had been laid out for them had held several cakes and treacle, and she had enjoyed them all while ignoring the braised duck, roasted pork, fish, and artichoke in cream sauce.
There is so much more to know about you…and how curious that I should want to know everything. And how opportune that her condition would see them away from London long enough for him to find out.
Hugh stood and walked toward the end of the long dining table, which had put at least thirty places between him and his viscountess. Her shoulders tensed at his approach, but she lifted her chin, met his regard, and pasted a smile on her face. What fine acting.
He could see the flutter of a pulse at her throat, as if a winged creature was held captive there. Instead of admiring her ability to gather her composure, a chill of warning went through Hugh, and the cynic in him noted the capacity for deception even as he tipped his hat to her.
“Would you like to retire to your chamber?”
She looked at him expectantly while Caroline translated. Phoebe’s cheeks turned a deep shade of rose, and her lashes lowered briefly. “Yes, as you wish.”
As he wished? Ah, she expected him to bed her. His gaze involuntarily went to her rounded belly. Despite his deep attraction to her, he would not exercise any husbandly rights, not while she was with child. This show of submissiveness was not her true character, and he did not like it. “I shall escort you.”
She stood and to his surprise went down the length of the table to his father and dipped into a farewell curtsy. Yet she threw a very unladylike wave at Caroline before walking away. In silence, he guided her down the prodigious hallway and to the second stairs that curved toward the west wing. She hesitated briefly before following his wave, her gloved hands clasped tightly before her, her bare feet padding noiselessly on the thick carpeted floor.
Once at the landing, he placed a hand at the small of her back and guided her to her rooms. He opened the door and stepped back, allowing her to precede him inside. Once over the threshold, she gasped. “Why, it’s lovely!”
Her chambers consisted of a spacious and elegantly decorated bedchamber and two adjoining rooms, where one would serve as a dressing room and the other a sitting room. Rose-silk curtains surrounded the bed, at which she stole a quick discreet glance before returning her regard to him. Hugh withdrew a note from his pockets.
She reached for it and unfolded the paper, which read, “This is the Countess’s chamber…and the connecting door leads to my chamber.”
For a moment, she could not meet his eyes, and a wave of red blossomed over her face and throat. “I see. Thank you.”
They stood in awkward silence with her clutching the note as if it were a lifeline. He hadn’t thought to prepare another note informing her that she need not fear his advances. He was a patient man, and he did not marry her to satiate his baser urges even if they were stirring to life with the violence of a winter storm. He had learned over the years to master his emotions and expectations and in this situation, he could do the same.
As far as Hugh was concerned, they did not need to share the same bed until he was ready for his heir. His only priority now was to see about getting his sister and brother settled, one through marriage and the other with a respectable position and a marriage. A thing they both ardently wanted but believed, because of their bastardy and unique situation, such a living and contentment would be forever denied to them. Rubbish, of course. And certainly not if Hugh had anything to do about it.
Unable to express any of this, he sketched a quick bow and turned around.
“You are leaving?”
How astonished she sounded…and relieved. Hugh faced her and nodded once.
Her gaze searched his face intently as if she tried to discern his thoughts. Unexpectedly, her eyes brightened, and a soft smile appeared on her lush lips. She made her way over to him, lifted her hands, and cupped his cheek in a caress that felt as gentle as the brush of a butterfly’s wing. “Thank you for your consideration,” she murmured a bit huskily. “I am very much obliged to you, and I shall never forget your kindness, my lord.”
Her action shocked Hugh into profound stillness and sent his thoughts spinning. It had been years since anyone had touched him in such a manner…and the last person he could recall cupping his cheeks had been his mother. The awareness pulled a flinch from him, and a delicate pink stain spread from Phoebe’s cheeks down her throat. She hurriedly dropped her hand and stepped back.
Swallowing tightly past the knot in his throat, he bowed and withdrew from the room.
Once in the hallway, a silent breath shuddered from him. What had that been about? He walked away, and some instinct urged him to look back, so he did. She stood in the shadows of the doorway, watching his retreat with her large golden eyes. She lifted her hand in a small wave, and Hugh felt like an idiot when he paused, lifted a hand, and waved back.
But she smiled, and it was quite the loveliest smile, which revealed a deep dimple in one of her cheeks. His heart did this ridiculous squeeze, and with a scowl he turned around and made his way down the stairs to his private study.
…
Indifferent civility.
Phoebe had been married to the viscount for two weeks, and whenever she encountered him, he treated her with kind consideration and a dreadful indifferent civility. The very first morning after their wedding, she had woken to a note on the small table by her bedside. Even several days later, the words and the implications were still seared in her thoughts.
You are under no obligation to prepare to attend me in my chambers in the evenings, nor will I visit yours. We are newly married, but we are also strangers, so you may rest assured I will not be exercising any husbandly rights. In the future, we might revisit the matter when it is mutually convenient.
His note had been so cold and succinct. Yet another burst of relief had filled her. Phoebe had not been ready for intimacy with him, even if she found him terribly
handsome and he made her heart race in a manner never felt before. Since then, they had fallen into a routine of sort, where each morning they dined together. Caroline would join them to communicate for her brother, but he had frightfully little to say.
Phoebe often attempted to converse with him, with remarks on the weather and the beauty of the place, to which he always replied politely. But in return, he made little enquiries of her, and whenever she saw him without his sister, they could not converse if there was no paper with a quill and inkwell on hand.
In those moments, they would stare at each other, and she would feel so flustered and out of sorts while he seemed quietly contemplative. At times when his father observed them, he would mutter, “It’s really the beginning… I can see what is happening. Why is he not seeing it?” and then march away, thumping his cane.
“What is happening?” she’d asked the viscount only yesterday morning, to which he had lifted a shoulder in an indifferent shrug before bowing and walking away to his study.
Their society did not seem to call upon them, nor did they entertain. It was baffling and not what she expected from a family as powerful as the Winthrops. Their oddities grew daily. Even yesterday she had spied Caroline in trousers playing with a baby sheep. Phoebe had been astonished and amused in equal measure and had to suppress the desire to join the girl and act in a similarly unrefined manner. Dignity and decorum, she had reminded herself resolutely.
Oftentimes, the viscount disappeared for the day in his study, or sometimes he would call for his carriage, which was drawn by a beautiful team of four coal black horses, and disappear for hours. Most evenings, she dined with Caroline only, for the earl was quite unorthodox in his manners and often had a tray set up for him in his gardens on the stone table. Once she heard him mutter that he preferred the company of the birds and flowers, to which Hugh had only smiled.
