Page 69 of Wedded to the Cruel Duke

Phoebe gaped at him in shock. So, he thought that she was going to be stubborn enough to defy him? If so, then she really should have left the windows open instead of suffering through the balmy nights drenched in her own sweat!

She sat down at the edge of her bed with a sigh. “I do not suppose you came here to check on my windows, though.”

She saw it again—the flash ofsomethingin his usually calm eyes. Was it fear? Anxiety?

She had heard of men who feared every little thing, suspicious of anything that moved or breathed. Charles had always been odd, maybe even cautious and controlling to a fault, but she did not ever deduce he would befearfulof anything.

If hedidfear something, then it would explain all the unnecessary rules and routines he enforced upon his estate.

“Come with me, Phoebe,” he told her, holding his hand out to her. “I have something to show you.”

She bit her lower lip hesitantly. “Can you not show me here? Or maybe in the morning, perhaps?” she added in a failed attempt at a more lighthearted conversation.

“I am afraid it cannot wait any longer.” His voice denoted his urgency. “Come with me, Phoebe.”

Gingerly, she slipped her hand into his, her heart beating wildly in her chest like a caged hummingbird. She did not know why he was acting so odd tonight. She could only sense that heneededher.

Somehow.

And perhaps, she truly wanted to know more about her mysterious husband. Her Mama had always told her that her curiosity was going to get her in trouble one day. But really, how much trouble could she get into with Charles? It was not like she was going off sneaking into yet another forbidden area in the estate.

Charles was taking her there.

Besides, he would never do anything to hurt her or cause her to be alarmed in any way.

Would he?

Charles could not wait any longer.

For the past week or so, he had been going out of his mind, trying to keep Phoebe from noticing anything. His wife was an intelligent woman—certainly more than the regular débutantes that flooded the ballrooms of London. He knew that she was bound to discover something eventually.

In the first few days of her arrival in Wentworth Park, he knew that she had already deduced that something was amiss in his estate, and yet, she had been more accepting of his eccentricity. He did not think he would have been as gracious if their roles had been reversed.

His past experience had instilled in him a need to rigidly controlallof his surroundings. To scrutinize everything and everyone.

But Phoebe, with her wide open heart, could never be as cautious as he was—not until she fully understoodwhy.

He grasped her hand and led her down the winding staircase, their only source of light the lamp he had in his other hand. He pushed open the door to the basement and quietly led her inside, standing silently behind her at the sound of her surprised gasp.

Before them, the walls were covered with sheets of paper scribbled entirely with notes. Some of them had numbers, a sort of code. Others still were full of scrawled musings.

On the far end, a huge map of England was pinned to the wall. There were markings covering it and lines of red thread crossed all over its surface, held in place by pins.

Just below the map, there was a huge oak desk littered with pieces of paper.

“Charles,” she breathed in, her eyes wide in confusion. “What is the meaning of all this?”

He closed the door behind her and set the lamp on his desk with a guilty expression masking his features. “This,” he admitted, “is myrealstudy, Phoebe. This is the place where I do most of my work.”

She shook her head. “I-I do not understand. What sort of work do you do?”

He smiled in a rather self-deprecating manner. “You might think that I am just like any other nobleman—engaged in shipping or farming or fabric,” he told her softly. “But the truth of the matter is that I work for the Crown, Phoebe.”

“The Crown?”

“Yes.” His voice hardened as she stood beside his desk. “I was quite young when I was recruited. A bit more daring and foolhardy, if you will. The Crown has its agents to identify which ones are suited for the job all over England, even Scotland.”

“And you were one of those selected to join in their ranks?”