Page 9 of Wedded to the Cruel Duke (Duty and Desire #1)

CHAPTER NINE

T o Charles, women were the most contrary creatures, but his new wife just may outdo them all in that department.

Throughout the wedding, her nervousness had seemed like a mist that just shrouded her, so thick that it was almost tangible. Together, they had managed to get through with the ceremony held in the gardens of Townsend House, and during the festivities after, he had caught her drinking much more wine than he felt comfortable with.

He held a certain disdain for spirits or any kind of drink that could alter his thinking, which was why he only ever drank from the ornate flask that he kept with him throughout the rest of the party.

But she was a new bride and he had been told they were bound to be nervous, so he’d let her enjoy it for a while, hoping that it would buoy her spirits and allay her fraying nerves.

And it seemed to work exceedingly well, for when the time came for them to leave, she was quite beside herself and very nearly in tears at the thought of leaving her family behind.

It would have made for a rather touching scene, if only her family did not live right next door to her new residence.

In fact, she had already proven she could very well scale the wall on her own efforts , he thought to himself, recalling their first meeting when he found her in the cellar beneath the trapdoor.

The carriage ride back to Wentworth Park was blessedly short. Silence filled the carriage and for a while, the only thing he could hear was the clacking of the horses’ hooves upon the ground.

He had glanced at her every now and then, just to make sure she was alright and not about to burst into tears at any moment.

He saw, then, that despite having been a spinster before their marriage, Lady Phoebe Townsend— Montgomery was not so very difficult on the eyes. In fact, she might have been what others would have called a classic beauty, with hair the color of spun gold, high cheekbones, and warm brown eyes framed by thick lashes. He recalled how her tears had clung to those lashes earlier like morning dew and felt his chest constrict for a mere moment before he brushed it all off.

The carriage slowed down to a stop before the front door of Wentworth Park, and he inwardly breathed a sigh of relief.

They were home. They were safe .

Relatively.

Charles knew better than to trust anything and to feel safe was to become complacent. He could not afford to be complacent—especially now that he was responsible for another person as well.

“We have arrived,” he told her, perhaps a little too stiffly.

She simply nodded at him and allowed him to help her out of the carriage. As soon as she stepped onto the smooth stone path, she looked up around her, her expression one of awe as she took in the sights of her new home in broad daylight.

Wentworth Park was indeed a grand estate and the palatial home had been the seat of the Marquesses of Wentworth for generations. In the past, his ancestors had each added their own contributions to the estate until it all looked like a mixture of various architectural styles and themes.

Charles nodded towards Huxley, who had gathered all the servants and staff into two neat lines at the door. When they arrived, they all bowed at their master and the new lady of the house.

“We welcome the Marchioness of Wentworth to Wentworth Park!” they chorused in unison.

“Oh my!” Phoebe muttered under her breath, her eyes wide. “They are all very well-trained, are they not, my Lord?”

Charles nodded stiffly. “They have to be for the salary I pay them.”

He gestured towards the butler, who stood at the head of the staff with a proud gleam in his eyes. Huxley, he noted, had worn a new coat with his buttons polished to a mirror shine. There was also the curious hint of a sheen in his eyes.

“This is Huxley, the butler,” he told Phoebe. “You may ask him if you need anything.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Huxley,” the new Marchioness greeted him politely. “I hope we can work well together.”

“I am honored to be of service to you, my Lady,” Huxley replied with a formal bow. He turned towards a middle-aged man and portly woman at his side. “This is Ambrose, His Grace’s former valet, and Mrs. Hodgkins, our housekeeper.”

Charles watched as the three exchanged pleasantries, although Mrs. Hodgkins was expectedly more deferential towards Phoebe than Ambrose.

After the servants had all been introduced to their new mistress, they were all excused to carry on with their duties. Huxley even looked as if he could not wait to shoo them all away and give Charles and his new Marchioness some space to be alone.

“Dinner will be at seven,” he informed her. “As you might already have guessed, I keep to a very strict schedule, and I would appreciate it if you keep to it as well.”

“Oh, I know all about it,” she told him with a slight nod. “I can see you from my windows in Townsend House, you know.”

He appeared to be quite taken aback by her bluntness and then added, “You might also have noticed that I do not leave the premises, so neither should you.”

“You mean to keep me a prisoner here in Wentworth Park?” she gaped at him. “Can I not even visit my family?”

“I shall consider it,” he relented.

“Very well then. Anything else?”

He frowned at her. “I also do not like visitors, so I would appreciate it if you do not have them over. I like things to be kept in their proper place. The curtains must be kept closed at all times. As long as you can keep to these rules and the routines set in this household, then I do not see any reason why we cannot get along.”

He half-expected her to react negatively to the rules he had set forth before her. His bride, however, did not seem the least bit perturbed by them.

“Naturally, I shall abide by the rules of my new residence,” she told him calmly, as if everything he had said before was completely superfluous. “What I want to know, however, is why you did not apprise me of your conditions beforehand?”

Charles was taken aback for a moment. He had been so used to women talking in circles, going around and around a topic before they got to the point—if they ever did. Somehow, he found her bluntness rather… refreshing .

But, of course, he would not tell her that. Not yet, anyway.

“I have my own reasons,” he told her evasively.

“I see,” she nodded, as if that explained everything—which, for now, it did.

But then, he should have expected that she would have her own questions as well.

“Will we be sharing a bed, then, my Lord?” she asked him in such a bold and forthright manner. That, and the way she looked at him with such bright eyes, had him fumbling with his wits for a moment.

Did he want to share a bed with her? He honestly did not know. He had never shared a bed with anyone since he was a child, so Charles gave her the answer he was most comfortable with at that moment.

“No.”

Then, he turned on his heel and strode away from her, inwardly shaking his head at himself and the woman he left stranded in the middle of the hallway.

It was only a little later that he realized that perhaps he should not have left his new wife standing there, alone.

Charles sighed to himself as he made his way to his study regardless. He was barely an hour into his marriage and already, it would seem that he had not the temperament for it.

Phoebe could only stare after Charles as he marched away from her so quickly that one would think the hounds of hell were snapping at his heels.

I could not possibly have been that intimidating, could I?

In the past, she had been considered rather intimidating by many young ladies and gentlemen for her height. She towered over most of the other delicate debutantes and there were even gentlemen who refused to dance with her on the account of her being close to their height or even taller than them.

Her new husband, however, was much taller than any other gentleman she had had the discomfort of dealing with and with such broad shoulders at that. How could he feel intimidated by her when he stood well above… well, lesser men?

Or maybe, I have made him extremely uncomfortable with my bluntness , she thought to herself with a sigh.

It could not be helped, however—she tended to say whatever came to mind when she was nervous, and she was.

Very much so.

After all, it is not every day that one gets married and moves into another residence…

Although, the said residence was right beside her old one.

Still, the point of the matter was that she had married a man she scarcely knew beyond her avid study of his habits from her bedroom windows. Even that would not have told her very much about his true nature.

And then, there is that strange room beneath the trapdoor… What is it for? Is he hiding something there?

Phoebe let out a small shudder. Or someone?

She had wanted to ask him about it before he left her so quickly. It would seem that Lord Wentworth would not be so forthright with her about a great many things, but she already knew before that he had his… peculiarities.

She already knew that he scarcely left the lands, and she could understand why he would be extremely uncomfortable if she decided she could come and go as she pleased.

But first, I must be able to find my way around this vast place , she told herself resolutely. Once I know every nook and corridor, every window and every door… only then can I find ways to sneak out.

With a defiant tilt of her chin, she backtracked her steps until she somehow ended up back near the front door. One of the footmen looked at her in surprise as she came down the staircase.

“Milady!” he exclaimed. “I had thought you would be with His Lordship.”

She pasted a smile on her face. “Lord Wentworth has matters to attend to, I am afraid.”

The footman—she seemed to recall as O’Malley —shook his head and muttered something under his breath, before he smiled at her.

“Well, is there something you need, Your Ladyship?”

“Yes, I would like to know where my quarters are located,” she told him with a sheepish smile. “I am afraid—”

“His Lordship left without saying a word of it, I gather?”

“He was… busy,” she mumbled a little helplessly.

O’Malley smiled apologetically at her. “You will have to forgive His Lordship sometimes, milady. When a man has been living on his own for a long time, he might not know how to treat women.”

“Oh, I suppose he is doing better than most,” Phoebe laughed wryly. “I have met far more beastly creatures, I assure you.”

The footman beamed at her, visibly relieved at her reaction. “You will find that he is a rather nice gentleman, I assure you, milady.”

“I am certain he is,” she told him warmly.

Buoyed by her favorable response to Charles’ behavior, he cheerfully led her on a brief tour around the house all the way to her rooms. She found a young woman standing by her door with a nervous smile.

“My name is Amelia, milady,” the maid greeted her with a sharp curtsy. “I shall be attending to your needs.”

Phoebe smiled warmly at her too. “Well then, I shall entrust myself to your care, Amelia.”

The young maid blushed and looked down. “Thank you for your trust, milady.”

“Amelia has been specifically chosen for you, milady,” O’Malley told her. “Mrs. Hodgkins also made sure you have the best rooms in the house, that she did.”

Phoebe frowned. “Not better than that of Lord Wentworth, I should think?”

“Oh no, no… Lord Wentworth chose his rooms for, ah, specific reasons.”

No doubt another of his peculiarities .

“Oh, well. Thank you, O’Malley. And please also thank Mrs. Hodgkins on my behalf.”

“I shall let her know, milady.”

Phoebe watched as the footman marched away after excusing himself. He did not appear to be as nervous or anxious as Amelia. In fact, he seemed to be very much comfortable in this household with its rather strict master.

“So… Amelia, was it?”

“Yes, milady.”

“Are there some things I need to know about living in Wentworth Park?” she asked of her maid. “Like, what the Marquess enjoys. How he takes his meals…”

When he last left the house. What that room under the trapdoor is for.

And why does he seem to be suspicious of just about everything and everyone?

“I… I cannot say, milady,” Amelia stammered. “I have not been working very long at Wentworth Park…”

“Oh. I see.”

“Mrs. Hodgkins chose me because I knew how to do hair,” she explained plaintively. “And I know how to care for garments and such.”

Phoebe smiled at the maid and shook her head. It seemed that she would not be able to gain any information from the poor thing.

“Well, Amelia,” she said with a half-shrug. “I shall leave myself in your care, then, for I know very little about hair.”

The maid let out a nervous chuckle. “I shall do my very best to make sure His Lordship will be unable to take his eyes off you, milady!”

Phoebe only smiled and nodded wordlessly as she allowed the maid to lead her into her rooms. Perhaps Charles had chosen Amelia specifically because she did not have much knowledge of the goings on at Wentworth Park.

If she wished to know more about her new residence and her husband, it seemed as if she was going to have to get her information elsewhere…