Page 4 of Wedded to the Cruel Duke

Daphne pulled out the dress that her second sister was referring to and held it up in front of her with an appreciative look.

“Actually, itdoeslook charming, Minerva,” she agreed. She hurried over to the mirror and smiled. “Your suggestion has merit.”

Phoebe watched as her sister shyly ducked her head and mumbled under her breath that she was glad she could help.

“Actually, I think that the blue would be better for another event,” she agreed. “Itisrather elegant, but it might come off as a little… well, unapproachable.”

Minerva nodded. “Perhaps for a ball where you need to shock them all!”

The sisters burst into giggles as they all piled onto the plush sofa, the dresses they had chosen carefully put aside.

“You know, this almost feels like that time when we were children and we went through Mama’s wardrobe,” Daphne remarked wistfully.

Minerva snorted. “As I recall, Mama was not so pleased with us at that time. We had to go without pudding for a week!”

“No pudding for a week is the absolute worst!”

They happily chatted amongst themselves, indulging in the occasional fit of giggles and lighthearted banter that was the hallmark of their sisterly affection, when Phoebe’s eyes landed upon the clock on her sister’s mantelpiece. She nearly shot out of her seat when she saw that it was already six in the evening.

“I should go now!” she said, hastily collecting her things.

Daphne sat up with a frown. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

“Nothing much. I—I just recalled that I have something else to do.” She shot her youngest sister an apologetic smile and added, “You will look absolutely beautiful tomorrow, Daph, and Lord Brunswick should feel honored to have you as his guest.”

She noted the shy blush that bloomed on her sister’s face, but she said nothing of it as she hurried back to her own rooms. As soon as she had closed the door behind her, she casually tossed her satchel onto the sofa and hurried over to the windows that faced Wentworth Park.

At six, he always goes out to make a round around Wentworth Park, she thought to herself.Always. Without fail.

This, Phoebe knew, for she had been observing the Marquess of Wentworth for some time already. At first, she would make notes of it in her journal, but over time, she had come to know his routines by heart.

Around this time, the curtains all over Wentworth Park would be shuttered close nearly in unison. She had earlier noticed that they were so thick that hardly any light passed through them, so much so that it would seem as if the whole house was plunged into darkness simultaneously. It was almost as if its mysterious owner wished to give off the impression that there was no one in the entire residence.

Or maybe, he just does not appreciate the rest of the public minding his business…

Perhaps if he believed he had a neighbor like Miss Thomas, who only thought of him as a rampant murderer, Phoebe could certainly understand why he would not be so inclined to share his activities with the rest of the public.

However, a few minutes had passed and there was still no sign of the Marquess. In addition to that, she noted that several curtains had also remained open, when they should have been shuttered close already.

Now, that is strange, she mused to herself.Where could His Lordship be at this time? He isalwayspunctual.

For many months already, she could count on him to come out for his evening jaunt to the point that she had come to think of it as some sort of tacit secret between them both. For him to deviate from his usual routine felt almost as if he had let her down in some way.

Where could he be?Phoebe thought to herself with a frown.Surely, he is not involved in something nefarious as Miss Thomas claims!

A lot of people deviate from their rituals frequently. Phoebe herself was not a creature of habit, so why should she expect the Marquess of Wentworth to stick to such a rigid routine?

Still, she felt it was rather unsettling to not see his familiar figure garbed all in black heading out to check the perimeters of his estate with a lantern in hand. It was not just disappointment—she truly felt a certain degree of concern for the mysterious Lord and his rather predictable habits.

I wonder what could have held him up, she thought to herself, sighing as she sat at the window seat. She propped her face up with her hand and stared out at Wentworth Park and the windows with their curtains still hanging open.

CHAPTER THREE

Phoebe twirled the wand disinterestedly as a sleek, black cat jumped up at the feather attached to its end with its claws outstretched. It let out an indignant yowl as the wand flicked just out of reach.

“It feels rather unsettling, does it not, Whiteson?” she mused distractedly. “Just when I thought I had him all figured out, he does something truly unexpected and now, I do not know what to make of it. Or if I should make anything of it at all.”

She let out a soft sigh as she flicked the wand again, much to the cat’s consternation. Eventually, her lack of focus caused her to allow the wand to droop, and Whiteson, who had been waiting for the perfect opportunity like the skilled predator that he was, immediately pounced upon that feathered stick with a triumphant cry.