Page 70 of Wedded to the Cruel Duke

He nodded. “I was a proud youth, then. Exceptionally arrogant, given my capabilities. Now, I know better—pridealwayscomes before a fall and one can never be too cautious.”

His last sentence was tainted with the bitterness of experience. He had been so young, then, unknowing of the rigors he would face. Or how casually he would court death in the next few years.

“Oh my…” she murmured. “I did not know…”

“I rose up within the ranks,” he continued quietly. “But, Phoebe, you must know that this kind of appointment is not without itsdangers. I have witnessed countless men die from complacency. I was resolved to never join in their ranks.”

A tense silence filled the air. Charles looked down to the scattered pieces of paper on his desk—letters all filled with the same scrawl that had become familiar to him over the last few weeks.

“Is that why you have so many rules for this estate?” she asked softly.

He nodded. “It was also the reason I married you.”

“Why?” she blurted out. “Do you need a wife to cover for you or something?”

“What? No! Never!” he shook his head emphatically, his hand automatically reaching out for her. “I would have never involved you in something so dangerous as this if I had no choice—”

“No choice?” she choked out. “Charles, you are not making any sense to me right now…”

He gathered her into his arms. “I did not mean it in the way that I was forced to marry you because I needed you to cover for me. I married you to keepyousafe.”

“Me?” she asked him in shock. “I am just one of the thousands of spinsters in London. Nothing special. How could I have been in any danger?”

“Do you remember the scandal sheet?” he reminded her.

She nodded. “But what does that have to do with anything?”

“Everything, Phoebe—everything. Almost as soon as news of it broke out, I received the first letter.”

She looked up at him with a furrow in her brows. “What letter?”

His hand slid down her arm to twine around her fingers. “Come, let me show you.”

He led her over to the large desk, his hands running over the notes that had been scattered all over his surface until he came upon the one he was searching for.

“This one,” he told her urgently. He had to make her believe. Had to make herunderstandwhy he needed to be careful. Why heneededherto be careful.

Phoebe took the letter from him with trembling hands. He watched as her eyes furtively scanned its contents.

“But Charles,” she finally insisted, softly. “There is nothing here that implies whoever sent this to you means any harm.”

His heart fell when he heard those words. She did not understand it, after all.

But he knew better. It was his job, ultimately, and he wasverygoodat his job. Much too good, sometimes.

He had seen all of this before—seemingly innocuous letters or notes sent to unsuspecting victims. Some of them outwardly mundane. All of them highly unusual.

It was always only at the end that the pieces came together. Always when everything was already too late.

“You do not believe me,” he groaned, feeling utterly defeated.

“No, no, no,” Phoebe cried, reaching out to frame his face with her hands. Gently, she urged him to meet her eyes. “Charles, I am right here. I am safewith you. There is no one who means to harm us.”

“How can you know that?” he sighed. “I have seen this happen far too many times, Phoebe. I can justfeelit. Somebody is watching me. Watchingus.”

“But right now, they are not,” she told him softly. “Right now, there is only you and me and that is all that matters, Charles.Thisis all that matters.”

And before he could protest any further, she had pressed her lips to his, effectively silencing his words.