Page 20 of Wedded to the Cruel Duke

“Let us go home then, my Lord.”

And for the first time since they met, she caught sight of what might be a hint of a sincere smile on his lips and her heart just seemed tosoar.

CHAPTER NINE

To Charles, women were the most contrary creatures, but his new wife just may outdo them all in that department.

Throughout the wedding, her nervousness had seemed like a mist that justshroudedher, so thick that it was almost tangible. Together, they had managed to get through with the ceremony held in the gardens of Townsend House, and during the festivities after, he had caught her drinking much more wine than he felt comfortable with.

He held a certain disdain for spirits or any kind of drink that could alter his thinking, which was why he only ever drank from the ornate flask that he kept with him throughout the rest of the party.

But she was a new bride and he had been told they were bound to be nervous, so he’d let her enjoy it for a while, hoping that it would buoy her spirits and allay her fraying nerves.

And it seemed to work exceedingly well, for when the time came for them to leave, she was quite beside herself and very nearly intearsat the thought of leaving her family behind.

It would have made for a rather touching scene, if only her family did not live right next door to her new residence.

In fact, she had already proven she could very well scale the wall on her own efforts, he thought to himself, recalling their first meeting when he found her in the cellar beneath the trapdoor.

The carriage ride back to Wentworth Park was blessedly short. Silence filled the carriage and for a while, the only thing he could hear was the clacking of the horses’ hooves upon the ground.

He had glanced at her every now and then, just to make sure she was alright and not about to burst into tears at any moment.

He saw, then, that despite having been a spinster before their marriage, Lady Phoebe Townsend—Montgomerywas not so very difficult on the eyes. In fact, she might have been what others would have called a classic beauty, with hair the color of spun gold, high cheekbones, and warm brown eyes framed by thick lashes. He recalled how her tears had clung to those lashes earlier like morning dew and felt his chest constrict for a mere moment before he brushed it all off.

The carriage slowed down to a stop before the front door of Wentworth Park, and he inwardly breathed a sigh of relief.

They were home. They weresafe.

Relatively.

Charles knew better than to trustanythingand to feel safe was to become complacent. He could not afford to be complacent—especially now that he was responsible for another person as well.

“We have arrived,” he told her, perhaps a little too stiffly.

She simply nodded at him and allowed him to help her out of the carriage. As soon as she stepped onto the smooth stone path, she looked up around her, her expression one of awe as she took in the sights of her new home in broad daylight.

Wentworth Park was indeed a grand estate and the palatial home had been the seat of the Marquesses of Wentworth for generations. In the past, his ancestors had each added their own contributions to the estate until it all looked like a mixture of various architectural styles and themes.

Charles nodded towards Huxley, who had gathered all the servants and staff into two neat lines at the door. When they arrived, they all bowed at their master and the new lady of the house.

“We welcome the Marchioness of Wentworth to Wentworth Park!” they chorused in unison.

“Oh my!” Phoebe muttered under her breath, her eyes wide. “They are all very well-trained, are they not, my Lord?”

Charles nodded stiffly. “They have to be for the salary I pay them.”

He gestured towards the butler, who stood at the head of the staff with a proud gleam in his eyes. Huxley, he noted, had worn a new coat with his buttons polished to a mirror shine. There was also the curious hint of a sheen in his eyes.

“This is Huxley, the butler,” he told Phoebe. “You may ask him if you need anything.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Huxley,” the new Marchioness greeted him politely. “I hope we can work well together.”

“I am honored to be of service to you, my Lady,” Huxley replied with a formal bow. He turned towards a middle-aged man and portly woman at his side. “This is Ambrose, His Grace’s former valet, and Mrs. Hodgkins, our housekeeper.”

Charles watched as the three exchanged pleasantries, although Mrs. Hodgkins was expectedly more deferential towards Phoebe than Ambrose.

After the servants had all been introduced to their new mistress, they were all excused to carry on with their duties. Huxley even looked as if he could not wait to shoo them all away and give Charles and his new Marchioness some space to be alone.