Page 85 of Wedded to the Cruel Duke
“I already have. I won’t be leaving your side again.”
Whatever happens, I will be with you until the end, she promised him softly as she hugged him back.
They arrived at the heart of London to find the city oppressed with such dark clouds and an overall dreary atmosphere. The grand estate that had been the seat of all the Dukes of Cheshire felt so empty that their footfalls resounded in its walls as the butler led them to their rooms.
If anything, the staff of Cheshire Hall were extremely well-trained, for in the brief time that had elapsed, they had managed to clean out the bedchamber of the late Duke in preparation for Charles and Phoebe’s arrival. When Mosley, the Duke’s faithful butler showed Phoebe to what would be the Duchess of Cheshire’s bedchamber, Charles immediately blocked him.
“She is to share my bedchamber,” he told Mosley.
The butler looked at him in surprise. “Y-Your Grace?”
“The Duchess’s things, however, can be arranged in her boudoir in the adjacent suite,” Charles continued. “As for the Duchess, she will share my bed.”
“As you wish, Your Grace,” Mosley complied with a bow. He turned towards the maid that trailed behind him and relayedCharles’ instructions. The maid bowed her head, but not before Phoebe saw her eyes sliding towards the sight of her hand clasped securely in Charles’ larger one.
Phoebe knew that it was unusual for a married couple of the aristocracy to share a bed, when most of them could hardly stand each other. It must have been a strange sight for them to see them both so comfortable with each other, but well-trained servants would never speak of the business of their masters.
“This manor feels… different,” Charles sighed once they were alone. “Even when he had fallen ill, his presence filled the whole place. Now, it’s just…”
“Empty,” Phoebe finished, looking up at him. “It feels empty.”
He nodded, drawing her close to him with a shuddering breath.
“Don’t you think we should at least have brought O’Malley with us?” she asked him quietly. Due to the suddenness of their journey, they had had to leave the faithful footman behind with Huxley to manage matters that had been left back at Wentworth Park.
“I have entrusted some tasks to him that require his presence at Wentworth,” he replied. “Do not worry so much about it. I have Ambrose with me and he has served me for quite some time.” He smiled mirthlessly. “It is not like we will be attending any social events soon, in any case.”
Phoebe chose not to say anything. Instead, she just hugged him tighter. Sometimes, words were not necessary. This was one of those times.
“I have rushed you unnecessarily,” she heard him sigh before he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.
She smiled as she looked up at him. “I would rather be with you than anywhere else in the world.” She frowned a little. “Are you not going to rest as well?”
Charles shook his head with a grim smile. “There are some things that require my immediate attention.”
“Oh.”
“But I shall join you for supper,” he reminded her. “And after that as well.”
She felt her face heat up slightly at that and she looked down before he could see the blush creep up her cheeks. “I do not think that our, um…activities would be appropriate, considering that your father just passed…”
“I know my father, my dear, and believe me, he would have been ecstatic at the prospect of me applying myself most assiduously to the continuation of the family line,” he responded dryly. “Although if it causes you to be uncomfortable, holding you would suffice—for the moment, that is.”
She laughed lightly at that. “All right. For the moment.”
She had no doubt, however, that if Charles was to ‘apply himself assiduously to the continuation of the family line’, she would be unable to resist him. Still, the almost oppressive air that hung over the entire manor all but dispelled any desire in her. She could only imagine how a young Charles might have felt living in such a grand but empty home.
Some things needed to change in Cheshire Hall, but those could wait until after the mourning period had passed. For now, perhaps, she might be able to convince Charles to open the curtains to let some sunlight in.
A few more moments in his embrace, and Phoebe was loath to see him leave for the study his father used to occupy, while Amelia accompanied her to the bedchamber to freshen herself up after the long journey.
Wentworth Park was a long way from London, but she and Charles had chosen their swiftest horses just so they could arrive shortly after the sun rose. Be that as it may, the journey had taken its toll on her, not to mention Charles, who had barely recovered from his illness.
“Your Grace,” Amelia murmured quietly as she handed Phoebe a towel that she might wipe her face with. The young maid looked on at her with concern shining in her eyes.
Phoebe could only smile back at her as she accepted the towel with a quiet thanks. When she married Charles a little over twomonths ago, she had not expected to become a Duchess so soon. She had even looked forward to meeting her new father-in-law sometime in the future.
Meeting him at his own funeral had not been in her plans.