Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
M oving into her new bedchamber took very little time. In fact, it required less than a day for a battalion of maids under Amelia’s supervision to go about hauling Phoebe’s things to the room adjacent to that of her husband.
Settling in had been another matter entirely, however—one that evoked a rush of heat to her cheeks as she recalled how Charles had intended to see her settled into her new accommodations.
“Darling.”
“Hmm?” she replied, ducking her head into her book to hide her flaming cheeks.
“If you keep looking like that, I might be compelled to lock the library doors.”
Her cheeks flared hotter. “Right now?” she squeaked.
“Right this very moment,” he affirmed with a smirk.
Phoebe watched as he set his book down and moved closer to her. Truly, there was no sating her husband. From the moment they had consummated their marriage, they… had done very little else.
Even Whiteson had begun to complain from the lack of attention he had been receiving, the poor thing. In response, Charles had merely seen it fit to bribe the feline with all its favorite food.
Charles, she soon realized, had a decidedly roguish side to him—one that he only showed to her, fortunately. If the Spinster Club had already been stirred merely by his physical looks, she had no doubt her husband would send those poor women into a faint en masse if he so much as smiled naughtily at them the way he often did to her.
“I thought that with this weather, it would be a perfect day to promenade!” she declared instead.
Charles frowned. “A promenade? Today?”
“Right this very moment,” she confirmed with an emphatic nod of her head.
“All right,” he relented. “We can take a turn about the gardens…”
“No, not the gardens!” she groaned. “Charles, we need to see other people besides each other.”
Her husband crossed his arms before his sculpted chest. “Do enlighten me as to why I would even consider such a thing.”
“Because it would be fun,” she cajoled him, leaning into him and batting her eyelashes in the manner she had once seen Daphne do. “And it would be good for you.”
“I doubt it.”
“Oh, don’t be so theatrical! Besides, the place I have in mind is rather isolated with very few passersby. You don’t have to worry on that front.”
Eventually, Phoebe proved that she was a master in the art of convincing a stoic recluse like her husband and they soon found themselves promenading along a shaded path in the local park.
It was nothing like Hyde Park, of course, but there was a certain tranquility to it that was absent from the renowned London park. There were definitely far fewer promenaders about and most of them were from neighboring estates that bordered those of Wentworth Park and Townsend Manor.
Charles had stiffened at the very beginning, but as Phoebe curled her fingers about his arm and quietly pointed out her favorite spots, she soon felt him relax and he even began to reply quietly to her questions.
They were set to make a final turn about the path when she heard a familiar voice calling out to her.
“Phoebe! Oh, Phoebe, is it truly you?”
They both turned around to find Daphne running to them with one hand holding onto her bonnet to keep it from flying off her head. Her eyes were bright when she saw her sister, but she visibly shrank back when she laid eyes on her brother-in-law. Behind her, Minerva trailed back with her nose stuck in yet another of her books.
“ No, it is not me, dearest,” she heard Minerva murmur under her breath, prompting the youngest sister to scowl.
“My Lord,” Daphne began, sketching a curtsy. She nudged at Minerva to do the same.
“That… that would not be necessary, Miss Daphne,” Charles told her with a look of discomfort. “We are family after all.”
Daphne seemed a little confused as she looked towards her sister and then towards him. “Oh, yes. Indeed.” She nodded her head like a little bird pecking on grain. She turned towards Phoebe once more with a look of excitement, as if there was something she wished to say, but could not say it out loud.
“Oh, she just wants to tell you that she has been invited to a tea party at Wickham Hall tomorrow,” Minerva sighed with a slight roll of her eyes.
Wickham Hall? The residence of Miss Thomas?
“Is it not exciting!” Daphne turned towards Phoebe. “But at the same time, it is rather daunting as I am not so familiar with the other ladies in the party. I was hoping that Minnie might accompany me, but—”
“Of course not. Absolutely not,” her older sister shook her head vehemently. “I have cello lessons tomorrow and I could not possibly spare the time.”
Phoebe looked at both of her sisters—Minerva, who was seemingly implacable, and Daphne, who looked to be on the verge of tears.
“Well, if you cannot accompany me, perhaps Phoebe can,” the youngest Townsend sister sniffled. She turned her wide eyes towards her eldest sister. “You will accompany me, won’t you?”
Phoebe felt a headache coming on as Daphne had put her into a very difficult spot with Charles, who was quite strict about her leaving the estate. She turned to her sister with a helpless look in her eyes.
“Daphne, I do not think—”
“You should go,” Charles told her firmly.
“I—what?” she blinked at him in disbelief.
“You should go,” he told her gently. “Accompany your sister to this tea party.”
“B-but…I was not really invited…” she trailed off.
“Oh, you need not worry about that!” Daphne told her with a brilliant smile. “The hostess assured me that I could bring someone with me. A chaperon or a dear friend or a sister.”
“That is…very considerate of her,” Phoebe murmured. She turned towards Charles. “Are you sure about this?”
“Absolutely,” he nodded.
“Oh, thank you so much, My Lord!” Daphne beamed at him. “I shall let Mama know that Phoebe will be coming with me so that she need not worry so much!”
With that, the two Townsend sisters excused themselves as Daphne all but towed Minerva back home to tell their mother the news that the Marquess had allowed Phoebe to accompany her to the tea party.
As her sisters disappeared from sight, Phoebe could only shake her head. “You must forgive Daphne. She can be very excitable—”
Her words were cut off when Charles pulled her in for a passionate kiss that had her toes curling in her shoes. There was no one else in the vicinity after her sisters had left, but even then, the thought that someone might chance upon them in such a scandalous embrace sent a little shiver of excitement down her spine.
He pulled her towards a copse of trees as his lips began to trace a fiery trail down the column of her neck.
“If I had not agreed to your sister’s request, I would never be able to get you alone like this,” he growled as he gently bit on the sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder. He roughly dragged her skirt up her legs and Phoebe was vaguely aware of the draft in her thighs when she felt his finger rub against her womanhood.
“Charles!” she hissed, her eyelids fluttering closed in pleasure. “Oh…what do you think you’re doing? Oh… ohh… ”
“What else?” he smirked as he began to tease her there, separated only by the thin barrier of her clothes.
Phoebe let out a soft moan as she leaned back into the tree behind her, feeling the rough bark digging into her back as Charles’ relentless fingers teased her to no end. In no time at all, she was gasping, her hands finding purchase on his broad shoulders as he continued to torment her out in the open.
Overhead, she heard thunder rumbling—or was that just her heart pounding so loudly? Somehow, she was not so sure anymore. All that she knew was that he was touching her in the most wonderful way possible as his lips trailed back up her neck to kiss her once more.
“ Charles…!” she gasped. “Oh… Charles! Oh myyy… ”
She was teetering on the precipice. A single breath would have sent her careening headlong into a bursting release.
Unfortunately, the heavens chose that very moment to release a torrent of rainfall, causing Phoebe to shriek in surprise. Charles, however, merely laughed as he kissed her soundly on the lips and swept her up in his arms.
“Charles, put me down!” she demanded, tapping on his shoulder. Dear Lord, she was still throbbing between her legs, and every step he took reverberated straight into her core. “Where are you taking me?”
He merely laughed as he shook his head, sending droplets into her face. “Back to the carriage, of course. I cannot have you getting wet and gifting another with the sight of your delicious body.”
The sheer male arrogance in his tone sent a shudder running through her body. In any case, her legs had lost all strength and she could only hold onto his shoulders for dear life as he sped down the path back to their waiting carriage.
Charles, it would seem, had a surprisingly naughty side to him. She ducked her head into his shoulder to hide the smile that had begun to bloom on her face.
She decided she would like for it to come out more often.
The next day, Charles was unable to get up from bed.
Phoebe sighed as she dabbed a wet cloth to his heated forehead. It would seem that their escapade in the rain had resulted in his catching a cold. Fortunately for Phoebe, she had not been afflicted with the same malady. All the same, she took copious amounts of hot tea to ward off the chill herself.
“Phoebe?” he muttered weakly.
“I am right here, my dear husband,” she murmured.
He frowned. “You…should not be here. You might fall ill—”
“Shh…” she chided him gently. “I am not as foolish as to not have taken measures to prevent myself from getting ill.”
“So, you think that I am foolish for falling ill?”
She bit back a smile at his petulant tone. “Well, I did not say that.”
“You certainly thought it. I can tell.”
“Well, I did not—think that I mean,” she corrected herself as she dipped the cloth into a basin of water and wrung it out. “And you should not talk so much and focus on getting—”
Her words were cut off when he let out a pained grunt and clutched at his leg.
“Charles? Is something wrong?”
He shook his head vehemently, but she noted that his lips had turned rather pale. “Just… just an old injury. Nothing to worry about…”
Phoebe did not think it was nothing to worry about. Sweat lined his brow and his face was twisted into a grimace that belied the pain he was feeling.
“Charles,” she murmured. “We should call for a doctor.”
“No, no,” he shook his head. “No doctor.”
“Then, how about some laudanum? It should help with the pain…”
“No laudanum either,” he insisted. His eyes flew open and he stared at her. “I have…seen men go mad from laudanum. No laudanum, Phoebe . Promise me.”
She nodded. “All right, my darling. No laudanum.”
“Call Huxley and O’Malley,” he told her. “They…will know what to do.”
“All right…”
Phoebe wrung out the wet cloth and returned it to the basin. She leaned in and kissed his flushed forehead one more time, before hurrying out of his bedchamber to search for Huxley and O’Malley.
She knew that Charles was suspicious of nearly everything to a fault, but she had not thought that it would be to a point that he would refuse a physician or any medication when he was clearly suffering.
Hopefully, O’Malley and Huxley will know what to do , she prayed.
Because if they could not help him, she did not know what else to do.
Phoebe sighed in relief as she watched her husband’s chest rise and fall in an even cadence. Even his fever had broken and after she had wiped him down with assistance from Huxley and O’Malley, he was now sleeping more comfortably in his great bed.
Whatever it was that O’Malley had given him, it had certainly worked and there was no need to summon a physician.
She clasped his hand in between hers and pressed a kiss to his knuckles in relief. At least the worst had now passed. Hopefully, he would recover fully in a few more days.
“Phoebe?”
She opened her eyes and saw him looking at her with a frown. “What time is it?” he asked her. “Why are you not dressed yet? You should already be going…”
“Darling, you are sick,” Phoebe smiled tearfully at him. “Where else should I be but by your side?”
He shook his head weakly. “But we have already told your sister that you will be accompanying her to the tea party—”
“Shh…” Phoebe pressed a gentle finger to his warm lips. “Daphne will understand once she learns you are ill.”
But Charles only shook his head. “No. You must not tell them— anybody —that I have fallen ill. It is only a passing cold, besides. I will be fine once I have rested enough.”
Men can be such stubborn, prideful creatures, Phoebe sighed inwardly. Charles, however, seemed to take it a notch higher by refusing to show any outward signs of weakness.
“If it makes you worry, you can have Huxley and O’Malley attend to me,” he told her. “They will be more than enough.”
“I still do not think that is a good idea at all,” she insisted. “Besides, you were the one who told me that I am not to set a foot out of this estate without a valid enough reason.”
He smiled up at her. “Well, you have my express permission this time. And take at least four footmen with you, as well as Amelia. It will make me feel better knowing that you will be protected, at least.”
She frowned when he mentioned protection, recalling how frantic he had been that night in the basement when he showed her the letters he had been receiving. How he had been so worried for her…
Would he be able to rest with her out at a tea party? She did not think so.
“Go, Phoebe,” he urged her again. “It will make me feel infinitely better.”
She scrunched up her nose. “You should have told me you wanted to get rid of me that badly.”
He laughed hoarsely. “Of course not, dearest. But promises must be kept and we did promise Daphne you would be there.”
She knew her sister would be incensed if she were to back out at the last moment. Daphne would most likely sulk and refuse to talk to her for a few days, but then she would turn around and forgive her and everything would be fine once again.
Charles was different. He was sick. What kind of wife would she be if she left him to languish on his own?
She sighed and held his hand in hers. “Are you absolutely sure you will be alright without me?”
“I will be heartbroken in your absence, of course,” he managed a smile. “But I shall await your return. For now, you had best prepare or else you will be late.”
Phoebe closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. Once O’Malley and Huxley had both returned, Charles had all but pushed her out his door. It really made one feel unwanted.
She sighed as she pushed the door towards her room. She just hoped that this party would have good scones, at the very least. Otherwise, she would have left her sick husband for a feast of barely passable fare.
It was enough to make a grown woman weep.