Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
P hoebe appeared at the dining hall just a few minutes before the stroke of seven. The table had been set for both herself and the Marquess, but there was no food on the table as of yet. She frowned in confusion, but decided not to say anything against it.
“It is great to see that you are punctual,” an icy voice drawled from behind her in the doorway, causing her to jump the slightest bit.
She turned around to see Charles strolling into the dining room, his strides long, almost eating up the space between them instantaneously. His hair appeared slightly tousled, as if he had come from strolling outside. Huxley trailed in from behind him, looking just the slightest bit frazzled.
Of course, he would have just come in from outside , she thought to herself. It is around this time that he usually finishes his routine inspection of the grounds of Wentworth Park.
“My Lady?”
She shook her head and looked at O’Malley in confusion. He subtly gestured with his head and her gaze swiveled to one side of the room, where Charles was standing before a chair, his hands clasped behind his back.
“Oh!” she squeaked, when she realized that he had been waiting for her. “I apologize. My mind wandered off for a moment…”
She rushed over to the chair he had so kindly pulled out for her, nearly stumbling over her feet in the process. Her cheeks erupted with warmth as she realized how she must have looked like a newborn foal who had yet to learn how to use its legs.
But if Charles had noticed any of it, he certainly did not let it on as his face remained as stoically impassive as it always did.
She sat down hastily and let out a sigh of relief. At least here in her seat, she was not so prone to falling...
Why, oh why, do I always find myself afflicted with an extreme lack of grace every time I am nervous?
She watched as he strode over to the seat across hers on the dining table, his every step sure. Phoebe inwardly noted that he walked with a certain predatory grace that would not have been unusual in a panther.
The moment he sat down, she heard a loud clap from O’Malley and almost immediately, a parade of servants in perfectly starched and pressed uniforms paraded out from one of the doors, each one of them bringing covered trays of a wide array of dishes. They carefully set the dishes on the table and uncovered them, before standing to the side with blank faces.
The entire spectacle was rather… unnerving.
All that was forgotten, however, when she beheld the feast before her. Succulent cuts of meat roasted to perfection. A vast selection of what appeared to be the freshest vegetables. Baskets of freshly baked bread.
All this food just for the two of us? Phoebe could not help but gawk at the spread before her.
“You might want to tell Huxley your culinary preferences next time,” Charles told her. “We were not so certain what you would like, so the kitchens decided to make a little of everything.”
“It all looks so wonderful,” she muttered. “I do not even know where to start.”
She saw Huxley smile widely and knew that she said the right thing.
Over the table, she waited for her husband to start eating, but he did not touch his cutlery. Instead, he motioned for O’Malley to step forward.
Phoebe watched as the footman gleefully piled a plate full of each kind of meat. Her eyes widened as he proceeded to get one of each kind of bread and vegetable as well.
Was he… Is he going to eat all of that?
Her questions were answered as she watched him cheerfully plow into the food, eating with gusto. In less than a quarter of an hour, she watched in amazement as he polished off a plateful of food and even wiped the sauce off his plate with a bit of bread.
Only then did she see Charles help himself to some bread and meat.
“You may now eat,” he told her, gesturing towards the food before her.
“What? Oh…”
As she gingerly helped herself to some roast beef, she could not help but wonder if this was one of his weird habits. She recalled a few days ago that he did not touch his tea until he had seen her drink from her cup. If she did not know any better, she could swear that he was letting O’Malley test the food before partaking in it!
“I would recommend the lamb, milady,” O’Malley winked at her. “The kitchens outdid themselves with that one.”
“Oh. Thank you. I suppose.” Phoebe smiled at him and helped herself to a small portion of the said lamb chops, but then she caught her husband looking at her intensely from over the table. His eyes appeared to be scrutinizing her, although he did not seem to disapprove of anything.
“Is something amiss, my Lord?” she asked him, eyebrows raised.
He shook his head. “It is nothing.”
“You might like to try the lamb,” she told him. “O’Malley was right—it is delicious.”
He said nothing, but then she saw him partake of the lamb and she smiled a little to herself. Her husband did not seem like someone who would take the advice of just about anyone and for him to take hers… well, that certainly had to bode well for the rest of their union, she supposed.
In all honesty, she found the countless rules and regulations that governed Wentworth Park to be quite stifling. Her existence in Townsend House had been one of relative freedom, with her and her sisters being allowed to do pretty much anything they wanted to do and pursue whatever hobbies they set their hearts on.
They ate as they pleased, and they most certainly did not have servants to test the food for them before they ate.
The pair of them ate in relative silence, although for Phoebe, her mind was already churning. If she was to make a life for herself at Wentworth Park, then some things had to change.
After all, one cannot continue to live in the darkness. She had to convince her husband to step into the light sometimes. She just wondered if he would take kindly to such a suggestion…
When Charles decided to take Miss Phoebe Townsend as his wife, he had to admit it had been a most impulsive decision.
He certainly had not taken into account the many differences between them—like how she had enjoyed a greater degree of freedom and, for all intents and purposes, gambled with her life.
She basically jumped over the wall in pursuit of her cat without a second thought , he thought to himself wryly. Thinking of all the possible dangerous consequences of her actions does not seem to be one of her character traits.
Later that night, he saw her peer out of the window after dinner as she was heading back into her rooms. She had not heard him walking from behind her and Charles himself had learned to silence his footfalls earlier on in his life.
“My Lord!” she had squeaked, dropping the curtain back when she saw him looking at her in disapproval. “I was just wondering what my family was doing.”
“And you thought you could see them from the windows?” he asked her flatly.
She pursed her lips. “Well, my rooms face this side of Wentworth Park and so does my sister, Daphne’s.”
“You meant to spy on your sister?”
“Well, not exactly—”
“Well then, what exactly were you doing?”
He watched as her expression crumpled just the slightest bit, before she straightened her back and regarded him in an almost defiant manner. No one had ever defied him before, least of all a woman who had just arrived in his household.
“Lord Brunswick had been meaning to court my sister… before news of my scandal erupted all over London,” she told him softly. “She had been invited to dine with him on the very day the papers—” She took a deep breath and sighed. “Well, I suppose her situation should improve now that we have married…”
Charles might not have been fond of attending the various social activities of the ton , but he understood their behavior and attitudes well enough. Now that Phoebe was married to him, they would be more than eager to form connections with the Townsend family, if only to have access to even more insider gossip.
Not only that, but he was also a Marquess and heir to a Dukedom—and Phoebe now shared his title as his wife.
“In the future, I would appreciate it if you kept the curtains closed,” he told her curtly instead.
“It was only for a short while,” she reasoned with him.
He merely shot her a quelling look, before walking away in silence. He had to understand that his wife was a virtual innocent in the ways of the world. She had no idea just how dangerous it could be to even simply peer out the windows.
He sighed as he closed the door behind him in his study. This room, like his bedchamber, had been carefully chosen to make sure that the windows did not face open spaces. It did not have much in the way of natural lighting, but then again, he was used to working in the dark, by lamplight.
Sometimes, even just by candlelight.
Moments later, he was interrupted by a soft rapping on the door.
“Come in.”
He looked up to find Huxley peering in through the door with a strange expression on his ordinarily impassive features.
“You may speak.”
The butler cleared his throat. “Just as you had expected, Her Ladyship wished to know more about Wentworth Park and she did ask her maid.”
Charles nodded. He had specifically chosen the young maid who had just recently joined his household a little over a month ago. Amelia would have very little to say if Phoebe had asked her anything.
Besides, she did claim she was good with hair and he had heard that young women of the ton were quite particular about their coiffure and their manner of dress.
“She is quite curious, Her Ladyship,” Huxley continued. “And a bit headstrong, if I may add.”
Charles frowned just a little at that. Now, that could pose some problems down the road.
He had seen for himself that she did not shy away from being blunt with him. He had found it refreshing as most people, with the exception of Huxley and O’Malley, treated him with great deference. While he liked maintaining a sense of discipline amongst his staff, he had to admit that it could get tedious at times.
“Make sure she has everything she could ever need and want,” he instructed Huxley. “It might take some time for her to get used to life in Wentworth Park. I do not see the need to make it any harder for her.”
The butler smiled widely. “I shall endeavor to find out Her Ladyship’s preferences, my Lord.”
He nodded.
“But what if she… wishes to go against the rules of Wentworth Park, my Lord?”
It was not only a very real possibility, but it was almost guaranteed to happen.
“In that case, just report back to me,” he told the butler.
“As you wish, my Lord.”
Later, when Huxley had finally left him alone in his study, Charles could not help but mull over the events that had transpired throughout the day.
He, himself, could scarcely believe that he was actually married, and with a special license at that. Even his own father had not been given enough time to react and had been unable to attend the wedding. No doubt, he was going to hear words of consternation from Cheshire soon…
Much to his surprise, he did not regret any of it, though.