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The valet was visibly discomfited by the barrage of questions. He cleared his throat before relaying the various things the new Duchess had been up to while Ethan lay abed like a damned invalid.

When she awoke, she had called for her maid to help her dress, which—according to Huxley—she accomplished without muchfuss. After that, she went out to meet the butler, Morton, and the head of staff, Mrs. Craddock.

Now, she was in the kitchen, meeting the cook and the rest of the kitchen staff.

She certainly has been productive.

Much more productive than him, at least.

“Let us hurry, then, Huxley.” Ethan smiled grimly.

“Will you be going out, Your Grace?”

Ethan chuckled. “Of course not. The Duchess has already been up since sunrise. Who are we to languish about?”

He finished dressing in record time, with poor Huxley hurrying after him with combs and brushes and whatnot. Ethan merely brushed the man off. He was more interested in seeing what Phoebe was up to than parading like a peacock in his own home.

“But, Your Grace, the Duchess?—”

Ethan simply quelled his valet’s protests with a single look.

If Phoebe could not be seduced when he had been dressed excellently as he had been on his wedding day, then hepresumed that she could care less what he wore at home, without guests to entertain.

Perhaps he might even elicit a more favorable reaction from heren déshabillé.

Now, there is a thought.

He chuckled to himself. He did not have much reservations about nudity, but Phoebe might have strong opinions about it. Not to mention that the household would probably be scandalized to find their master romping about in a state of undress.

He made his way to the kitchen, having scarcely buttoned up his shirt properly, rounding the corner when he heard her melodious voice floating through the open door.

“I am pleased to make your acquaintance,” he heard her say in a pleasant tone. “And I can see that you all do such a splendid job. The wedding breakfast was the best I have ever had.”

She was so nice and sweet to everyone, even the damned kitchen staff.

Everyone.

Except him.

He saw the cook turn pink at her compliment. “It was our honor, Your Grace.”

That morning, his wife was dressed in a sage green dress embroidered with tiny lilac flowers. Her golden tresses were coiled in a rather sensible knot that only drew his attention to the sensual curve of her neck…

If he kissed her there, what would her sigh sound like?

Ethan found himself almost dying to know just that.

“Thank you so much for your efforts, Mrs. Wolsey.” Phoebe smiled at the cook. “Now, about breakfast… I am not quite familiar with His Grace’s preferences…”

“Ah… perhaps that is a matter to b-be taken up with His Grace…” the cook stammered, her eyes darting to the door.

Ethan watched with unabashed delight as his wife’s graceful spine stiffened as if someone had shoved a poker down her back. Slowly, she turned around to face him, and his smile grew even wider.

“Indeed, my darling Duchess,” he drawled. “I would be more than happy to discuss all mypreferenceswith you.”

Rogue! Rascal!

That was all Phoebe could think of as she heard the muffled giggles of the kitchen staff at the barefaced innuendo he casually flung her way. Heat flooded her cheeks as she turned towards him with a reproachful look.