Page 36 of Wedded to the Cruel Duke

She just hoped that Amelia would not make her regret her decision tonight.

It was five minutes past seven when Charles strode into the dining room. To his surprise, there was no one present except Huxley and O’Malley standing beside a table laden with food.

“Where is the Marchioness?” he demanded coldly as he sat down at the head of the table. “Is she not coming down to dinner?”

Both servants shared a look, before Huxley spoke. “Amelia assures me that Lady Wentworth will be dining with Your Lordship tonight. She is just…” He cleared his throat and adjusted his collar with a look of extreme discomfort. “She is justgetting ready.”

Getting ready. How long does one necessarily take to get ready for an informal dinner at home?

Charles himself had not even bothered to change out of the clothes he had spent the whole day in. Frankly speaking, he was already tired from studying all the documents they had sent to him and now, there was nothing he looked forward to more than the comfort of his own routines.

Unfortunately, his wife had seen fit to upend order and throw the rest of his world into chaos once more. Come to think of it, nothing had ever been the same for him ever since she stumbled into Wentworth Park a few weeks ago, looking for her cat.

He gestured towards O’Malley to start their ritual with the food.

“I am so sorry for the delay,” a cheerful voice floated into the dining hall.

Charles looked up. His mouth went dry at the sight of Phoebe smiling apologetically as she sailed into the room in a deep green dress that brought out the flawless creaminess of her skin. The fashionably low-cut neckline revealed the soft swells of her breasts. He almost reached for the glass of wine, before he realized that O’Malley had yet to test the damned thing.

Never before had he cursed his skill at observation more than he did at that particular moment.

“I hope that you did not wait overly long, My Lord,” she beamed at him in a breathless voice—and then, sheflutteredher eyelashes at him.

Fluttered. Like they were some goddamned butterfly’s wings.

She had never done that before and he would have worried that she was about to faint, if not for the high color in her cheeks.

Charles could only muster a succinct nod. “It was not too long.”

She smiled at him, and he wondered if her eyes had always been the particularly intoxicating shade of brandy. He had never been one to indulge in spirits, but right now, he was feeling particularly lost. Adrift.

Maybe even a trifle inebriated.

And more than a little hot.

He frowned to himself.That is rather strange. No one has ever affected me in such a manner before.

“O’Malley!” he heard Huxley hiss at the footman.

Charles dragged his gaze to the side, where O’Malley appeared startled and, looking visibly chagrined, immediately went abouttastingthe food before them.

“I heard that you were quite busy in your study today,” Phoebe remarked with a sympathetic smile from the other side of the table. “Sometimes, I wonder if you work too hard.”

She poured herself a glass of wine and then began tosipat it. Charles immediately looked to O’Malley, in panic, and the poor footman began hurriedly tasting the food from each platter as Phoebe reached for the roast chicken.

At this point, if any of the dishes have been compromised, we would be unable to tell which one!

“Come to think of it,” she continued, putting her fork down. “What is it really about your work that keeps you so busy?”

He could not tell her that the slightest delay or mistake in his work could have dire consequences. He was so preoccupied with the fact that she was already clearly enjoying that particular piece of chicken, so he merely shrugged and replied weakly, “I am afraid that no one else could do it.”

She leaned forward and rested her chin on her hands, her eyes regarding him with keen interest. Her lips curled upward in a soft smile that looked positively seductive in the candlelight.

Well, hewouldhave felt seduced if he was not so afraid that she was going to keel over and die from poisoning at any moment.

“I suppose you do not want to talk about work over dinner,” she commented. “What else might you want to talk about then?”

Perhaps if he kept her talking long enough, he could slow her down just enough for O’Malley to ascertain the safety of their dinner.