Page 42 of Wedded to the Cruel Duke
Her younger sister smiled at her, but she could tell that it was edged with a slight pain.
“We all know that it is Daphne who is the perfect debutante.”
“We cannot all be perfect debutantes.”
“True,” Minerva grimaced. “And I fear that one day, it shall be my turn and I shall make a complete mess of everything…”
Phoebe simply smiled as she sipped at her tea. Whatever it was that her sister feared, it cannot possibly compare to the circumstances that led up to her marriage to Charles, tempting scandal and all.
She was fortunate that he stepped up to marry her and save them all from ruination.
“You are not going to make a complete mess of everything,” she reassured her sister gently. “And Mother will be with you every step of the way. With her, you need not fear anything at all.”
Minerva wrinkled her nose wryly. “I daresay that the good Lady Winterbottom still scares me.”
“Darling, Lady Winterbottom scares just about everyone,” Phoebe shuddered slightly.
“But enough about Lady Winterbottom,” her sister grinned. “All afternoon we have been together, and you still have not said anything about that husband of yours!”
Phoebe felt her heart hammering in her chest as her younger sister leaned forward, her eyes gleaming in excitement. She knew that Minerva might be a little shy and awkward in social situations, but she still expressed a great deal of interest in the world, if only to watch it through the eyes of her sisters.
“What is there to tell, really?” she murmured. “He is a good man.”
Minerva wrinkled her nose again—a habit that their Mother had often advised her to forsake.
“A good man? That certainly does not say much about him,” she muttered. “You used to have a great deal to say about him. How come you are at a loss for words now that you are married to the man?”
But what could she tell her sister without giving away her current marital woes?
Should she tell Minerva how stunningly handsome her husband was? How the sound of his voice sent little shudders down her spine and into some uncharted territory?
Should she tell her then how he had not come to her bed ever since they had been married? That, shockingly, he had not even attempted so much as a kiss?
However, she was spared from having to recount her humiliating failure to seduce her husband just the night prior, when Minerva spoke again.
“I suppose it can be embarrassing to talk about the private affairs between men and women,” her younger sister told her apologetically. “Do not worry—I shall not ask it of you again.”
Phoebe smiled weakly. “I did not take offense—not really. I just…” she trailed off when they heard the doors closing and the voice of the youngest Townsend sister wafting excitedly into the garden, punctuated only by the stern reminder of their Mother to exercise more ladylike restraint.
Such words were lost on Daphne, however, when she spied her two older sisters having tea out in the gardens, with Whiteson curled at Phoebe’s lap, dozing regally as if he was the Queen’s own pet.
“Phoebe!” she exclaimed, running towards them, her eyes shining bright with excitement. “I did not know you were coming over to visit! Oh, you could have told us earlier—everyone was just asking about you!”
Phoebe supposed that with the controversial circumstances surrounding her marriage to Charles, there would be a significant number who would like to know more details aboutit. Since Charles was already a known recluse, it was a foregone conclusion that they would have to source their information elsewhere—like the youngest of the Townsend brood.
“I…I suppose they were,” she muttered with a weak laugh.
“Do not worry, for Mother and I managed to get them off our backs,” her youngest sister laughed gaily. “I am sure they were most disappointed, but of course, they dare not show it, for fear of appearing exactly like the gossipmongers that they are!”
“Daphne!” Lady Townsend admonished her youngest daughter. “I thought I taught you better than to talk in such a manner!”
“Oh, but it is only Fi and Minnie!” Daphne pouted.
“And do not pout so—it is most unladylike!”
Daphne sighed and dropped into the seat between her two sisters. “Ladylikethisand ladylikethat,” she groaned. “I could not fathom how I was ever excited to make my bow!”
Minerva smiled and patted her younger sister’s shoulder in a consoling manner. “There, there, dearest. We all know how you enjoy their attention, anyway.”