Page 34 of Wedded to the Cruel Duke

“I look like a hen strutting about,” she sighed despondently to Amelia when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. “A gigantic one, at that. I do not look the least bit flirtatious or attractive at all.”

“You are doing fine, milady,” the maid reassured her. “You are simply not dressed for the part yet, is all.”

Ah, yes. I have yet to expose my bosom after all…

She let out a deep sigh, her shoulders sagging. Perhaps it had nothing to do with her posture and strutting around, really. Her sister had received the same instruction from their mother as Phoebe had, and yet Daphne had managed with far greater success in a few months than Phoebe had with five whole Seasons.

Perhaps it was not the dresses or the act of flirting itself.

Perhaps she was just not attractive to most of the men she had been acquainted with.

“Her Ladyship seems to be getting along with Amelia rather well.”

Charles did not even look up from the document he had been perusing for the better part of an hour. “Good,” he acknowledged with a curt nod. “It would be better for her to have someone to talk to.”

“I hope you don’t mind me saying this, milord, but it would be better if you had a conversation or two with Her Ladyship as well,” O’Malley pointed out.

“I have nothing to say that would interest her,” Charles replied blandly. “Phoebe is…” He trailed off and frowned, finding himself at an uncharacteristic loss for words.

She was a spirited young woman. A touch awkward when she was nervous as well, but she possessed a heart that was deeper than the sea.

“Amelia will be a suitable enough companion for her,” he told the footman in a voice that brooked no argument. “Make sure she has everything she needs and wants.” He paused and added, “Have the library cleaned and refurbished for her use as well.”

“As you wish, milord.”

He waved the footman away to dismiss him. However, as soon as O’Malley closed the door behind him, he set the document down and stared out into the distance.

Perhaps his nosy footman had been right, and he should accompany his wife more often, after all.

Charles was not particularly fond of company, but Phoebe had lived in a house full of family. From what he had seen of the Townsend household, they appeared to be extremely close. Nothing at all like what he had been accustomed to with his own father.

He looked at the documents before him, all of them filed and arranged according to his personal preference. In a few days, he should be able to conclude his work.

Perhaps then, he might be able to accompany Phoebe for dinner—not tonight, of course. But maybe sometime in the future.

And perhaps, he could come a little earlier to have O’Malley test everything so that she would never have to notice anythingoddonce more…

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

It had been a week after the wedding and Phoebe was just about to lose her sanity. In those three days, she scarcely saw Charles, and even then, he usually answered her in brief, perfunctory sentences that left her at a loss more often than not.

She had tried her best to engage him in witty conversation—even though she hardly had any skill in that department. She had also invited him to do something entertaining after dinner, like cards or chess. In return, he had given her a cold look and stalked off.

In the meantime, she had been secretly taking lessons from Amelia in the art of seduction, although she had yet to implement any of the fruits of her education, mostly because she could hardly catch her husband long enough to actually try flirting with him.

Charles, she soon despaired, was probably unattracted to her and she was going to die a slower and lonelier death as his wife, compared to when she had been a spinster.

At least as a spinster, she had been allowed the relative freedoms being ‘on the shelf’ afforded her. As the Marchioness of Wentworth, she could not even set one foot outside the estate.

So, it was with great surprise that she received the news from Huxley that her husband would be joining her for dinner that night.

She looked out the window and saw that the sun was still high in the sky. “Ah, did the Marquess actually say it?” she asked the butler, her eyes wide with incredulity.

Huxley nodded. “I am certain he did, milady.”

“He would be joining me for dinner.”

“Precisely, milady.”