Page 16 of Wedded to the Cruel Duke

Lady Townsend smiled at him. “My Lord, I am grateful that you are more appreciative of my daughter’s qualities, but I am afraid that she is right—sheisa spinster, in every sense of the word.”

Charles looked at the young lady across from him. She could not have been older than two and a half decades and from what he had observed, her temperament was not something one might complain about.

Indeed, many women had found him extremely peculiar themselves. Yet, he could not sense any peculiarity in her nature.

“It is no matter,” he told them, clearly unruffled by their declaration. “I am determined to do right by Miss Phoebe and will marry her as soon as possible.”

“You mean that you would forgo the three weeks it would take to read the banns?” she asked him in surprise.

“It should not be too much trouble to obtain a special license,” he told her with a small smile. “I have my ways.”

Of course, she did not need to know right now precisely what sort ofwayshe had at his disposal. Perhaps it would be better to let her think that he had some sway over the Archbishop of Canterbury. Or his father did.

After all, he was the son of a Duke. It should not be too difficult for him to obtain one.

He saw Lord and Lady Townsend share a look between them. Charles had heard that married couples who shared a bond often moved in perfect synchrony without noticing it, but he had never seen it himself. How fascinating.

“Do you mean to say that you wish for this to be a rushed marriage, my Lord?” Lady Townsend asked him carefully.

“Well, I suppose that it would be for the best,” her husband relented. “After all, this has already caused quite an uproar in theton. If the marriage is to be conducted posthaste, then that would put to rest most of these nasty rumors.”

“You do have a point there, my dear…”

“Besides, I do not think I want my wedding to be made into some sort of spectacle for the rest of Society to poke their noses into,” Phoebe remarked with a wrinkle of her nose. “Heaven only knows the sort of things they would say about it if they were all to descend upon the event, which is whatwouldhappen if we were to wait three more weeks.”

“Then, it is settled. I shall obtain a special license, and Miss Phoebe and I can marry at the soonest possible time.” He stood up and bowed before them. “I shall take my leave now, Lord and Lady Townsend, Miss Phoebe.”

As he turned to her, he could not help but let her name linger on his lips a little longer.

Phoebe. The name suited her well, for she shone golden like the sun itself on a clear summer’s day.

“Oh… will you not at least stay a little longer, my Lord?” Lady Townsend asked him.

Charles shook his head. “I am afraid I cannot, Lady Townsend. I have other business to attend to.”

“Oh… then, perhaps I should at least accompany you to the door,” Miss Phoebe volunteered.

Etiquette would dictate that it was only right to treat him well as their guest. It was only natural that she would at least accompany him to the door. They were to be married, after all. They should engage with each other a touch more…

But the short journey from the parlor to the front door of Townsend House was fraught with silence. Miss Phoebe did not see fit to fill the space between them with needless chatter and Charles appreciated her all the more for it. He was not exceptionally fond of small talk himself.

It was only when they were at the door that she broke her silence.

“Thank you so much, my Lord,” she told him. “Not just for marrying me, but—oh, I think you already know.”

No, he did notknow. But she was already blushing and in a state of discomfiture. He saw no reason to prolong her awkward agony and his as well.

“I am only doing what is right, Miss Phoebe,” he told her as he put on his hat. “And I hope you manage to put a leash on your feline by the time you move into Wentworth Park.”

He could not help but smile at the look of shock on her face as he tipped his hat stiffly at her and walked through the open door and into his carriage.

Charles Montgomery, the fifth Marquess of Wentworth, generally did not feel good about anything, but he was feeling surprisingly optimistic about marrying Miss Phoebe Townsend.

He hoped he would not live to regret it.

Phoebe remained staring at the front door far longer than she should have and for much longer after the Marquess had already left. Her mind was all in a whirl that she did not notice her two sisters approaching her.

“I trust that the Marquess did not blame our family for the scandal?” Minerva asked her. “Mama and Papa do not seem to be in a state of distress.”