Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
P hoebe tossed and turned in her bed as sleep continued to elude her. The past three nights, she had been finding it rather difficult to sleep and would spend countless hours staring up at the embroidered canopy of her bed, ruminating over countless things until she grew too tired to remain awake.
Thus, it was no wonder at all that she often missed Charles at the dining hall for breakfast. Unlike her, he was already awake quite early in the morning, locking himself in his study for hours on end right after breakfast.
If she was being honest with herself, the mere thought of diving into work right after the first meal of the day made Phoebe shudder. It was not that she was averse to work, merely that she preferred to ease into her days rather than throwing herself into her tasks as soon as the sun was up.
“Good morning, milady,” Amelia greeted her with a warm smile and an armful of the necessities that Phoebe would need for her morning ablution.
“Good morning, Amelia. I trust that His Lordship has already had breakfast?”
The maid nodded in affirmation. “Yes, milady. His Lordship had work to do today.”
That meant that she would not be seeing him until later that day. If at all today.
Phoebe wondered if this was even normal for a newly married couple. But then she thought of the circumstances that surrounded their marriage, and she decided not to dwell on it any further.
“By the way, a letter from Townsend House arrived earlier this morning,” the maid informed her softly. “It is addressed to you, milady.”
At the mention of her childhood home, Phoebe felt the burdens of her heart ease a little. “It must be from my sisters,” she told the maid warmly. “They must be wondering how I am faring. I am certain they are right now wondering if I had not yet run Wentworth Park to the ground.”
Amelia giggled a little. “Of course not, milady. Wentworth Park is rather fortunate to have you.”
“Do not let the Marquess hear you. I gather he is still not pleased with my insistence that we keep the curtains open.”
The maid smiled and tilted her head like a curious little sparrow. “The manor certainly feels much better now that the curtains have been opened during the daytime, milady.”
Phoebe nodded. “Keeping them closed for the better part of the day will only encourage mold to grow. That is where that dank, musty smell usually comes from.”
It also afforded her a nice view into Townsend Manor, something that she could not admit even to her husband.
Her heart clenched a little in her chest as Amelia handed her the letter, and she noticed Minerva’s familiar scrawl on the back of the paper.
Dear Phoebe, it read. I hope that this letter finds you well. I have not heard from you ever since the wedding and Mama insists that it is extremely bad manners to disrupt a newlywed couple on their honeymoon. Are you on your honeymoon, though? I told Mama that you hardly step out of the manor, to which she advised me—most thoroughly, might I add—to mind my own business and refrain from “spying” on you from the windows of my bedchamber…
The rest of the letter continued on with her second sister writing about how everyone is faring at Townsend Manor. Daphne, she learned, had managed to capture the attention of the ton once more and suitors were practically lining up to their father’s study.
You must come visit us soon, the letter finished. Mama cannot stop talking about how she misses you and you know how little I am of help with choosing dresses and riding habits. Most of all, we truly miss you, dear sister…
Phoebe smiled as she folded the letter and tucked it away. Reading it had only made her heartsick for her family.
If only I could make Charles see how important it is for me to see my family, too , she thought to herself. Maybe if our relationship improved, then I might be able to convince him of it…
“Amelia,” she ventured. “Do you, by any chance, know how to make a man…well…” She licked her lips nervously. “Do you know how to make a man see you in a more appreciative way?”
The maid stared at her blankly for a moment and then replied, “You mean you want to seduce His Lordship?”
Her cheeks colored at her maid’s frankness. “Something to that effect, yes.”
“Oh!” Amelia’s eyes immediately lit up. “John, one of the footmen, always liked it when I showed him a little bit of bosom…!”
“You…what!?”
“And when I lean in a little bit like so…I just know he is watching me closely!”
As if to underscore her point, she bent over seductively as if she meant to pick up something, while she batted her eyelashes so much that she looked as if she had got something stuck in her eyes.
“I…do not think that His Lordship would—”
The maid grinned as she led Phoebe to the vanity and began to fix her hair. “Firstly, milady, you must dress the part.”
“Dress the part? Like…” Phoebe turned a little green. “Show my bosom, you mean?”
“Yes!” the maid clapped her hands happily. “Nothing too much, mind you. Just enough for a little peek.”
“Oh, thank heavens for that…”
Phoebe frowned and looked down, for fear that Amelia would catch on that she had next to no idea of knowing what was to come.
“Fret not, milady,” the maid reassured her with a gentle pat on her shoulder. “You are already quite pretty. With a little more effort, I am sure His Lordship would be running you off to his bedchamber—or yours—in no time.”
Phoebe’s cheeks flamed up at the insinuation of finally consummating her marriage to Charles.
“In that case, then, I shall have to turn to you for advice.”
Phoebe did not feel too hopeful about it, though.
Would Charles find attractive the same things that caught the eye of John the footman? She honestly had no way of knowing that, but what was sauce for the goose might also work for the gander.
She would not know unless she tried something. She only hoped she would not end up regretting it all.
Phoebe was not certain that the things Amelia had taught her were anything appropriate for a lady. For one, she had never seen anyone walk into a ball with such an exaggerated sway of the hips the way the maid was teaching her to.
“Men are very visual, milady,” the maid reminded her. “You must first catch His Lordship’s eyes before you can begin catching his attention.”
“Uh-huh.” Phoebe nodded as she did her best to imitate Amelia’s movements.
As a young girl, her mother had taught her precisely how to walk and conduct herself properly. She had taught her the proper way to curtsy and dance, to walk and sit. But when she had grown up and seen more of the world, she began to doubt if that was all there was to attract a man.
The gentlemen she had thought she would encounter had not exactly been the idealized versions her Mama had taught her. Rather, the gossip mill was constantly churning out their scandalous escapades with this opera singer and that ballerina. Some even had affairs under their very own roofs with maids and governesses alike.
There must be a lot more to flirtation and seduction than merely fluttering one’s fan , she thought to herself as she practiced sitting down in a way that displayed her bosom proudly.
“I look like a hen strutting about,” she sighed despondently to Amelia when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. “A gigantic one, at that. I do not look the least bit flirtatious or attractive at all.”
“You are doing fine, milady,” the maid reassured her. “You are simply not dressed for the part yet, is all.”
Ah, yes. I have yet to expose my bosom after all…
She let out a deep sigh, her shoulders sagging. Perhaps it had nothing to do with her posture and strutting around, really. Her sister had received the same instruction from their mother as Phoebe had, and yet Daphne had managed with far greater success in a few months than Phoebe had with five whole Seasons.
Perhaps it was not the dresses or the act of flirting itself.
Perhaps she was just not attractive to most of the men she had been acquainted with.
“Her Ladyship seems to be getting along with Amelia rather well.”
Charles did not even look up from the document he had been perusing for the better part of an hour. “Good,” he acknowledged with a curt nod. “It would be better for her to have someone to talk to.”
“I hope you don’t mind me saying this, milord, but it would be better if you had a conversation or two with Her Ladyship as well,” O’Malley pointed out.
“I have nothing to say that would interest her,” Charles replied blandly. “Phoebe is…” He trailed off and frowned, finding himself at an uncharacteristic loss for words.
She was a spirited young woman. A touch awkward when she was nervous as well, but she possessed a heart that was deeper than the sea.
“Amelia will be a suitable enough companion for her,” he told the footman in a voice that brooked no argument. “Make sure she has everything she needs and wants.” He paused and added, “Have the library cleaned and refurbished for her use as well.”
“As you wish, milord.”
He waved the footman away to dismiss him. However, as soon as O’Malley closed the door behind him, he set the document down and stared out into the distance.
Perhaps his nosy footman had been right, and he should accompany his wife more often, after all.
Charles was not particularly fond of company, but Phoebe had lived in a house full of family. From what he had seen of the Townsend household, they appeared to be extremely close. Nothing at all like what he had been accustomed to with his own father.
He looked at the documents before him, all of them filed and arranged according to his personal preference. In a few days, he should be able to conclude his work.
Perhaps then, he might be able to accompany Phoebe for dinner—not tonight, of course. But maybe sometime in the future.
And perhaps, he could come a little earlier to have O’Malley test everything so that she would never have to notice anything odd once more…