Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
T he space next to Phoebe on the bed was empty when she woke up, but Amelia was already waiting for her with a shy smile, her cheeks tinged with a rosy flush that indicated to Phoebe that she knew precisely what had happened the prior night.
“Good morning, milady,” the maid bobbed in greeting. “Would you need assistance getting out of bed?”
Phoebe was not entirely sure she did. She had indeed woken up with a delicious ache all over her body and had initially considered staying abed for a while longer. But alas, she needed to head to the breakfast room if she wanted to see Charles again this morning…
“His Lordship informed me in advance that you might want to take breakfast in your rooms,” Amelia quickly volunteered.
“That is, um, rather considerate of him,” Phoebe murmured. If she did stay abed, as she was rather inclined to do, it would be a blatant admission of the consummation of their marriage.
In any case, why should she feel embarrassed about it when the entire estate had probably expected such an occurrence?
“His Lordship also told me that he intends to visit you in your rooms after you have broken your fast,” the maid added.
Considerate now seemed a rather pale word for the behavior Charles was exhibiting. As far as husbands went, this could be considered especially attentive—a fact that did not go unnoticed by Phoebe.
She smiled at the maid. “I think the Marquess made excellent suggestions. Do tell him that I will be looking forward to seeing him after breakfast.”
“He will be happy to hear that, milady.”
After she had washed up and changed with Amelia’s assistance, Phoebe was served an especially curated breakfast of all her favorite foods, as well as a pot of hot chocolate and a selection of fruits in season. Amelia was fairly staggering when she brought the huge tray in, even as she was assisted by two more maids.
Truly, Charles had thought of everything.
When he walked in just after she had finished her meal, Phoebe could not help but marvel at how dashing he looked. He had on a form-fitting jacket that displayed his broad shoulders splendidly, but he had dispensed with the cravat, opting instead to leave undone the first few buttons of his snowy linen shirt.
“Good morning, Phoebe,” he leaned in and kissed her cheek. “I hope you were able to rest well.”
She smiled up at him. “You, of all people, should know better if I was able to.”
The grin he shot back at her was one of pure masculine pride. “It was quite difficult for me to get up when daylight broke, too, you know.”
She raised an eyebrow at that. “I somehow doubt that you were afflicted with the same aches, my dear husband.”
“On the contrary,” he smiled at her, every bit as unrepentant. “It was the pleasure of your company that prevented me from leaving. If I had my way, we would never leave our bed for a day or two at the very least.”
The knowledge that he would vastly prefer to keep her abed sent a tingle running down her spine. To be sure, she found his attentions truly scintillating.
“Well then, why did you leave?” she demanded.
“Because,” he replied with a slight chuckle, “I did not want to be the inconsiderate husband who ravaged his own wife day and night without a moment’s rest.” He sat down beside her and gathered her in his arms. “I feared I might have been a little too rough last night…”
Phoebe felt that he had exhibited an incredible restraint upon breaking her maidenhead, but the next time, he was not quite as gentle. Even then, Phoebe had found herself moaning and wailing in sheer pleasure that even the memory of it now had her toes curling in her slippers.
“I liked it when you were rough,” she admitted softly. “I also liked it when you were not. Oh, there is nothing you did that I did not like at all!”
“Wife,” he groaned. “You had best stop looking and speaking to me in that manner, or I just might be unable to leave your side at all.”
“Would that be such a bad thing?”
“Now, when you put it that way, perhaps it wouldn’t be.”
He leaned in to kiss her, his lips sliding over hers gently in a provocative caress. Her arms came up to his shoulders as his hand cradled the back of her head, holding her captive as he deepened the kiss and pushed his tongue into her mouth.
This , Phoebe decided, is much better than the veritable feast I had been served for breakfast .
Even if a decade or five had passed, she did not think she would ever tire of Charles and his kisses. Every time he kissed her, she felt like she was always learning something new, discovering something that pleased them both.
“I think,” he rasped against her lips, “that it is becoming rather inconvenient to have to walk to the other side of the manor just to get to you.”
Phoebe smiled up at him happily. “Most inconvenient indeed.”
“Which is why I have told the servants to have your things moved in the rooms adjacent to mine,” he continued, his gaze searching hers. “If you would agree to that, of course.”
Her heart fluttered in her chest as she gazed up at him. “I would like nothing better, Charles.”
“Not even a picnic?” he teased her.
“A picnic is also lovely. However,” she looked down shyly, “I do think that certain things are much better done in the privacy of our rooms.”
“I think that I love just how that brain of yours works,” Charles growled as he leaned in to claim her lips in another searing kiss.
It was at a much later time when both of them managed to emerge from Charles’ bedchamber, and much, much later when the servants finally managed to start moving her things into the room adjacent to it.
“I’ve to admit, Your Lordship, I never thought you had it in you.”
Charles looked up from the document in his hand to glare at the impertinent footman before him. O’Malley was grinning like the absolute fool that he was.
“Moving Her Ladyship into the Marchioness’s suite, I mean,” the footman continued with a huge grin.
“It is her due as the Marchioness of Wentworth,” Charles shrugged.
“Yes, but as I do recall, you intended to keep Her Ladyship an arm’s length away from you.” His features softened as he asked Charles, “What changed?”
Any other nobleman would have been incensed to have his servant question him in such a way, but O’Malley was not exactly just a footman. He was Charles’ subordinate, it was true, but he was so much more than just another servant. Heck, the man was willing to risk his own existence by testing the food for him. He could forgive his cheeky commentary every once in a while.
What changed? Charles found himself pausing to ponder on that question.
Was it the fact that he had grown to crave her very nearness? Or the fact that he had learned how to trust her with his secret fears?
She had come into his life like a burst of sunshine and like the suspicious recluse he was, he had shut her out, intent on keeping some sort of distance between them. But Phoebe was like a bubbling brook, wearing away his sharp edges…
He smiled at that and shook his head. He could not pinpoint exactly what changed or when it did—it just happened. And if Phoebe did not question it, he was happy to just bask in the light she brought into his dreary existence. He was not about to ruin a good thing by dwelling too much on it.
Of course, that did not mean he was going to let his guard down. His beautiful wife might not have thought much of the letters he had been receiving, but Charles knew better than to disregard even the tiniest things. He had known men who had died or lost those dearest to them from complacency.
He did not intend to join in their ranks.
He was going to ensure his wife’s safety and heaven help those who desired to harm even a single hair on her head!
Later on that day, Charles walked into the parlor to join his wife for tea. He found her sitting in a chair by the window, thoroughly absorbed in a book she had purloined from the library, with Whiteson on her lap. The tea set that had been laid out on a small table at her elbow had gone mostly unnoticed. Her brows were scrunched up ever so slightly as she read, so engrossed that she did not notice his presence until he had leaned in, his lips hovering by her ear.
“I do hope you do not find this book far more interesting than your own husband, my dear,” he whispered, taking pleasure in the way she shuddered lightly as his warm breath fanned over her delicate skin.
“Charles!” she exclaimed in pleasant surprise, turning around to smile widely at him. Whiteson, who had been disturbed on her lap, let out a disgruntled yelp.
“I thought that you were busy with work,” she shook her head, although her smile told him that she was thoroughly pleased he had joined her.
“I managed to finish my affairs in a timely manner,” he explained with a casual shrug.
“Wonderful. I hope you can finish work early every single day,” she told him with a shy smile. “Would you like some tea? I am afraid it has gone quite cold—”
Seeing her sitting there, bathed in the golden afternoon sunlight, Charles had an appetite for something else entirely. When he raised a dark eyebrow in response to her offer, his lovely wife turned a most adorable shade of pink.
“That early?” she croaked.
“My dear, we are newlyweds, after all. It is only natural…” His deep voice trailed off as he swept her off her feet.
“Charles!” she shrieked in indignation. “Put me down!”
His only reply was the deep chuckle as he ushered her back upstairs to her new bedchamber right beside his.
It was a long time before they made it back downstairs for supper.