Page 26 of Wedded to the Cruel Duke

Phoebe squinted into the dark void of her rooms, noting the thin sliver of sunlight that managed to dance past the tiniest gap in between the thick curtains that her husband demanded she kept closed at all times.

Even during the daytime.

“Good morning, My Lady.”

She turned to find Amelia walking into her rooms, balancing towels and a basin in one hand. In her other hand, she held a lit candle.

No doubt it is the only way to navigate through this darkness!

Without another word, Phoebe slid her feet into the waiting slippers and dashed towards the windows. She flung the curtains open, smiling widely as sunlight flooded her bedchamber.

“Milady!” Amelia gasped in horror. “What are you doing?”

She turned to the horrified maid with a satisfied smile. “Come now, Amelia. You cannot possibly expect me to languish in the dark like this. Humans need sunlight, too, you know!”

“But-but,His Lordship—”

“Well, His Lordship can keephiscurtains closed, if he wishes,” she told the maid firmly as she happily turned her face to the windows, letting the soft morning sunlight wash over her face. “I, on the other hand, shall have sunlight in my rooms.”

Amelia looked as if she might faint at any moment, but Phoebe just laughed and spread her arms out wide. She twirled a little before that bright, sunny window.

“See? Nothing bad is going to happen just because I opened a few curtains!” she beamed. “And is it not much better to work in the light than in total darkness?”

“Well, it was nottotaldarkness, milady—”

“Yes, but a few candles in these vast rooms might as well be.” Phoebe smiled as she took the basin from her maid, pausing only slightly to blow the flickering flame from a nearby candle, beforeshe sauntered off to the windows. “You can bring the mirror and towels over here, Amelia. And if the Marquess says anything about it, tell him thatIcannot wash my face merely by the light of a candle!”

The maid smiled helplessly at her as she set the candle down on the table and hastened over with an armload of fresh towels. After Phoebe had washed her face and her hands, Amelia helped her into a blue dress the color of the summer sky.

“How would you like me to do your hair, milady?” she asked Phoebe, smiling hesitantly at her from the mirror.

“Oh, you can just put it up in a simple style. Nothing too ostentatious, as I will just be staying here in the manor.”

Amelia nodded and Phoebe soon learned that the maid was not only possessed of a great skill in doing hair, her hands were the gentlest she had ever felt on her scalp.

When Phoebe emerged from her bedchamber, she found that the rest of the manor was still shrouded in darkness, although she could see the sunlight peeking in through some of the thinner curtains. She walked past a row of portraits of the previous Marquesses of Wentworth and some of their Marchionesses, wondering if the Montgomery ancestors were somehow looking down their noses as she walked past them.

I would be in a rather glum mood myself, if I was to be forced into a lifetime of darkness,she thought to herself.

She paused and looked up to a portrait of a rather pale woman and smiled.

“I shall talk to your descendant about opening up some of the curtains,” she promised the lady in the painting with a soft smile. “Perhaps you will feel better once you have had some sun.”

“Paintings generally do not fare well with constant exposure to sunlight,” a deep baritone admonished her.

Phoebe jumped a little and turned to find the Marquess of Wentworth—her husband—with the same stoic expression that seemed to be permanently etched into his handsome features.

Her heart quickened beneath her breastbone as her eyes slowly took him in. His jacket was slung casually over his broad shoulders and he had dispensed the use of a cravat this morning. Instead, he had left his shirt open at the throat—the sight of which made her blood heat and her own throat run dry.

She felt warmth creep up her cheeks. “Good morning, My Lord.”

“I am your husband now. It would be unseemly to refer to me thus.”

She tilted her head to the side with a curious smile. “How should I refer to you, then?”

He paused, looking as if he had not considered it himself.

“Charles,” he finally said.