Page 59 of Wedded to the Cruel Duke

Charles glared at the irreverent duo. “You both seem to have forgotten your place.”

The footman just smiled impenitently at him. “I hope that breakfast was at least a more pleasant affair this morning, My Lord?”

“It was pleasant enough.”

Charles had the footman accompany him to the breakfast room half an hour before the said breakfast to supervise the testing of the food, and before Phoebe came down for breakfast. After that, he had settled himself into his chair and waited for her.

“Huxley.”

“Yes, My Lord,” the butler bowed at his side.

“I seem to recall that there is a small brook in this estate,” Charles told him softly. “The Marchioness has expressed a desire to go on a picnic. Make sure that the area is secured in the next few days.”

Huxley’s face softened. “I shall see to it, My Lord.”

“And tell the kitchens to prepare food… appropriate for a picnic,” he instructed.

His knowledge of picnics and outings of the sort was woefully inadequate, but his staff should know. Heaven only knew that they had enjoyed going down by the brook a few times already.

“Her Ladyship will most certainly appreciate your gesture, My Lord. A happy wife will ensure a happy life.”

O’Malley wrinkled his nose at that. “Well, what would you know about wives? You have never been married, Huxley.”

The butler sniffed at the footman. “Precisely. I have a keen awareness of my own faults and failings—enough to conclude that I will most assuredly fall short of any woman’s expectations, so I dare not disappoint anyone with a paltry attempt at matrimony.”

Charles smiled wryly. A few short weeks ago, he had been of the same mind as his butler. Now, he could say that he knew better.

For a start, just a month ago, he would never have considered opening the curtains of his manor to please his bride. Even more inconceivable would have been the very notion of him planning a picnic for her enjoyment.

These were the little things, he had to admit, but he dared not make overly grand gestures that would only shock her and make her even more wary of him.

They had started off on the wrong foot, but that did not mean that they had to suffer each other for the rest of their journey.

He smiled softly as he pondered on his butler’s words. A happy wife indeed made for a happy life and right now, he truly felt as if his happiness was, in a way, tied to Phoebe’s.

What if instead of just existing together, we decide to make a life for ourselves with each other?

The thought of it made him smile just a little bit more.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

It rained forthree whole days.

Charles looked out the window, bitterly watching the thick raindrops pelting against the glass. Behind him stood Huxley and O’Malley, both wearing worried expressions on their faces.

Phoebe must be feeling dreadful by now, he thought to himself in disgust. She must be so anxious being trapped indoors all this time.

Already, he had the library fitted out for her comfort. He had gone to the kitchens and ordered them to make all her favorite food and to make sure that they came up with a great many more that would appeal to his wife’s tastes.

“My Lord, the skies will be clearing soon,” Huxley reassured him. “Possibly tomorrow morning.”

Charles nodded stiffly. “Perhaps.”

They said the same thing three days ago, when the rain started out as a drizzle, only for it to evolve into a veritable downpour in a matter of hours. Perhaps the heavens intended to carry on for another good week. Besides, even if it did stop raining by tomorrow morning, the ground would have been rendered mushy and muddy—extremely unfavorable conditions for any sort of picnic.

“You will have to clean up the area once the rain stops,” he instructed them both.

The footman and the butler nodded in unison.