What will be required of me?
Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself against the feelings.
“It starts,” his father muttered crossly by his side, tugging at his cravat. “Bloody hell, I warned you, didn’t I? And what did you do? Ignored me and now it has started!”
“What starts?” Hugh signed distractedly, keeping his gaze on his wife.
His heart jolted. He might never get used to the idea that he now had a lady to call his own. The idea that he must marry and now seeing the reality of her were vastly different experiences.
“You are staring at her like a hungry wolf,” the old earl snapped, thumping his cane and drawing Phoebe’s and Caroline’s attention. “First, acting so scandalously in wearing no shoes to the chapel and then this! I can tell that bit was her idea!”
“It was.” And how bold and sweet she had been, very reminiscent of the lady who had penned those fascinating letters. The fear and the uncertainty of the previous night had melted away this morning, and what had glowed in her eyes had been a sort of watchfulness as she took stock of her surroundings and the people in the castle. “I admire that she does not bow to conventions.”
That admission made his father’s scowl turn blacker. “You’ve not been able to take your gaze from her for more than an hour! That is unseemly, my boy, and your preoccupation already shows that you find her compelling.”
Do I find you compelling, Phoebe? No immediate response came back to that silent demand, but he would be a liar to deny that something different and unknown had been stirred inside him from that very first letter he’d received, and it had not abated.
Smoothing his expression to indifference, he shifted and faced his father. “I think I shall invite the widowed viscountess to call upon us. Then perhaps you will
be occupied enough to direct your energy elsewhere, instead of agitating over how long I look at my wife.”
His father spluttered and sent him a stare that promised retribution. Disregarding the old earl, Hugh pondered just how close should he allow Lady Phoebe into his life. Even though his marriage had always been plotted and ruthlessly calculated, it was for better or worse and until death parted them. He prided himself on his level and shrewd judgment of a man or woman’s character, which could be immediately discerned the very first time they met. His wife’s own was a bit difficult to decipher.
He was curious to find out exactly who was this woman who would walk by his side. Was she kind? Did she, too, have the capacity for ruthlessness, especially when it came to protecting her family? Or was she prone to hysteria and fainting spells at the first hint of a problem? How would she truly react when those rumormongers came knocking on their door? With fear and anger, or with her head lifted high and proud?
Her composure now was quite admirable. She was quite aware that she was the recipient of several stares, yet she acted as if it was all unremarkable.
Knowledge bloomed through Hugh. That careful grace he witnessed was all a contrived act, and he wondered at the true heart of the woman before him. Hugh listed the attributes he’d observed.
She is bold and reckless.
She is courageous.
The very notion that she could dare to rebel against a powerful duke and duchess spoke to her vibrant and unflinching spirit. She would not be a lady overset by nerves or such nonsense in times of difficulty.
She does not hesitate to speak her fears or her hopes.
She once believed in love.
That bit of silliness would easily be cured. Love had clearly disappointed her and left her to deal with her parents and society’s wrath on her own. Surely from now on, practicality would guide her decisions.
My lady wife also seems to have an incurable sweet tooth.
The luncheon that had been laid out for them had held several cakes and treacle, and she had enjoyed them all while ignoring the braised duck, roasted pork, fish, and artichoke in cream sauce.
There is so much more to know about you…and how curious that I should want to know everything. And how opportune that her condition would see them away from London long enough for him to find out.
Hugh stood and walked toward the end of the long dining table, which had put at least thirty places between him and his viscountess. Her shoulders tensed at his approach, but she lifted her chin, met his regard, and pasted a smile on her face. What fine acting.
He could see the flutter of a pulse at her throat, as if a winged creature was held captive there. Instead of admiring her ability to gather her composure, a chill of warning went through Hugh, and the cynic in him noted the capacity for deception even as he tipped his hat to her.
“Would you like to retire to your chamber?”
She looked at him expectantly while Caroline translated. Phoebe’s cheeks turned a deep shade of rose, and her lashes lowered briefly. “Yes, as you wish.”
As he wished? Ah, she expected him to bed her. His gaze involuntarily went to her rounded belly. Despite his deep attraction to her, he would not exercise any husbandly rights, not while she was with child. This show of submissiveness was not her true character, and he did not like it. “I shall escort you.”
She stood and to his surprise went down the length of the table to his father and dipped into a farewell curtsy. Yet she threw a very unladylike wave at Caroline before walking away. In silence, he guided her down the prodigious hallway and to the second stairs that curved toward the west wing. She hesitated briefly before following his wave, her gloved hands clasped tightly before her, her bare feet padding noiselessly on the thick carpeted floor.