Chapter 34
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
T he next few days passed by in a blur, with the both of them hardly saying anything to each other.
London was a busy place and there was always something to do, but because they were still in mourning, it was hardly appropriate for Phoebe to attend social events or even entertain callers at their residence. The ball itself was a big mistake and had already drawn scathing remarks from the echelons of Society who were sticklers for etiquette. However, since they were now the Duke and Duchess of Cheshire, no one would dare speak out loud about it.
Phoebe sighed as she folded the missive her sister had just sent her. Sisters were such wondrous creatures. Otherwise, how would Daphne know how much Phoebe needed a reprieve from this suffocating manor?
A slight knock to her door drew her from her thoughts. When she turned her gaze away from the window, she saw Charles standing in the doorway with a remorseful look on his face. The faint shadow of growing stubble decorated his strong jaw and dark circles framed his eyes.
He had not been sleeping much, she realized. However, instead of coaxing him to rest a bit more, she simply slid her gaze away.
“Phoebe, I know that I have been horrible to you for the past few days,” he began, only to halt in his tracks when she shot him a reproachful glare.
He approached her with hesitant steps, his hand reaching out for her before he dropped it with a frustrated sigh.
“I know that it is the mourning period, but perhaps you can invite Daphne and Lady Townsend over for a visit,” he suggested. “You can have tea or something.”
“Callers are not allowed during this period,” she reminded him glumly. She set the missive aside and smoothed her skirts with a neutral expression. “But thank you for reminding me, Charles. I believe that I am in need of a few more mourning dresses, anyway.”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
She stood up and looked at him defiantly. “It means that I am going out , Charles.”
“Why would you need to do that? You can just summon the seamstress. They would be more than willing to accommodate you now that you are the—”
“The Duchess of Cheshire?” she flung back with a humorless smile. “I am also well aware of that, thank you very much.”
He let out a groan of frustration and she could tell that his patience was wearing thin. “Why are you being so difficult, Phoebe?”
She could only laugh harshly at him. “I could ask the same of you.”
“Damn it, I am trying my best!” he told her through gritted teeth.
“I know,” she replied softly. “I know that you are having a hard time and that you are doing your best. It is not easy to lose a parent—I understand that. But, Charles,” she looked up at him with pleading eyes. “I am having a hard time, too. Let me have this moment to just clear my mind, please.”
He scoffed. “You can clear your mind here .”
She shook her head sadly. “I cannot, Your Grace.”
She watched as he reeled back in astonishment. He had probably not expected her to refer to him so coldly by his title. He took a few staggering steps backward, his hand reaching for the door handle.
“I forbid you from going out, wife,” he told her quietly, before he left and shut the door behind him.
She watched the closed door—yet another one that stood between them. This one was merely physical, but the emotional distance between them was much greater.
“I would like to see you try and stop me,” she murmured with narrowed eyes.
She needed to get out, to get away from the stifling air of Cheshire Hall, before its oppressive weight could make her learn to hate Charles.
She wanted to understand him—she really did. But he was making it impossible for her and she feared that the longer this dragged on between them, the worse it was going to get.
She sighed as she bent down to pet Whiteson’s silky fur. “We never should have left Wentworth Park, Whiteson.”
Deep in her heart, she feared that the longer they stayed in London, the more they would end up inflicting greater pain on each other.
In the end, Phoebe did not listen to Charles’ warning at all and had the stables prepare her carriage to head to Bond Street. Earlier, she had a footman send a note to her sister that she would meet her at her favorite milliner and Daphne had happily replied that she would be there at three o’clock in the afternoon.
The busyness that was inherent in the streets of the city proved to be a rather weak diversion for Phoebe as her thoughts remained in Cheshire Hall with her brooding husband. She had learned from Ambrose that he had holed himself up in the study once more and was unlikely to emerge until dinnertime.
Maybe he might not even join me for supper , she thought to herself miserably. She was quite certain that the excellent staff had prepared such wonderful meals for her, but it could not quite repel the coldness left by Charles’ absence on the table.
A sudden jolt of the carriage snapped her out of her thoughts and she heard the horses whinnying from the outside.
“Your Grace?” The coachman knocked on her door.
“Is something amiss, Matthews?” she asked him.
“I’m afraid so, Your Grace. One of the wheels broke down.”
Phoebe sighed inwardly. It seemed that nothing was going well for her today.
She peered out of the carriage and felt some relief when she saw that the milliner’s shop was not too far away.
“That is perfectly all right, Matthews,” she told him with a polite smile. “The shop is not too far from here. I can walk all the way there and you can come by after the wheel has been fixed.”
The coachman paused with a doubtful expression, but Phoebe took that opportunity to alight from the carriage with a brilliant smile.
“The weather is pretty good today. Go and have the wheel fixed,” she urged him, handing him a few coins to see that the task was done.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” the coachman accepted the coins. “I shall return to your side in no time.”
She nodded at him with a smile, before she started walking down a quiet alley. Phoebe had always thought that walks were rather beneficial—to people, anyway. In the past, she found that a brief respite from company often helped her clear her head and heaven only knew she needed it presently.
She was not quite so sure what was happening with Charles, but she knew that he was not well. Whether it was London itself that dredged up some very painful memories for him, or the demands that were now required of him as a Duke, she could not tell.
I just want to share in his burdens somehow , she thought to herself. I know he wishes to protect me, but I do wish he would not push me away all the time.
She had walked perhaps halfway to the store, entrenched in her thoughts, when she heard a familiar voice calling for her.
“Your Grace! Your Grace!”
She turned around and found Lord Scunthorpe alighting from his carriage with a bashful smile on his face. Jogging, he made his way to her, looking a little out of breath.
“What are you doing here?” he asked her.
She smiled politely up at him. “Lord Scunthorpe, how lovely it is to see you. I was not expecting to find you here.”
While most noblemen kept a London residence, the Baron was someone who typically worked from his country estate, so it was rare to see him in the city.
“Yes,” he grinned smoothly at her. “A rather fortuitous meeting between us, I would say.”
Phoebe was not quite so sure about that, as she had wanted some time alone to herself, so she merely continued to smile at him out of courtesy. It would be rude to tell someone to leave her alone in the middle of the alley, especially when he was being so solicitous.
He must have sensed her hesitation, for he continued to engage her in conversation to fill the awkwardness between them. “Where are you headed, Your Grace?”
“I was just about to head to Madame Linney’s shop,” she began. “My sisters are convinced that I need new bonnets and hats.”
He frowned a little at that. “The milliner? But why are you walking on your own?”
Phoebe laughed a little. “Well, that is quite the thing, really. My carriage broke down just a short distance from here and since I was so close by, I thought a short walk to the shop alone would be nice.”
“Without someone to accompany you?” The Baron looked flabbergasted. “Let me offer you my carriage, then—”
She held her hand up respectfully and smiled up at him. “I appreciate your kindness, My Lord, but I do not think it is necessary.”
“Oh, I absolutely insist ,” he persisted with a growing grin. “Besides, as you say, it is only a short distance from here.”
“Oh no, no,” she shook her head. “I could not possibly impose on your kindness. I have always enjoyed walking, anyway—”
Suddenly, he reached out and gripped her upper arm. Phoebe’s eyes flew wide open as she struggled to get away from him, but his grip was like a vise clamped on her arm.
“Unhand me, Lord Scunthorpe!” she cried out. “You are hurting me!”
There was a dangerous gleam in his eyes and the smile that flashed in his face made shivers run down her spine.
“I already said I insist , did I not?” he told her darkly. “Why are you being so difficult?”
She was a little stunned when the words that Charles had flung at her earlier came back to haunt her.
Difficult —that word was what the gentlemen always said when she would not so easily bow to their whims.
Suddenly, she felt something cover her nose and her mouth. A sickly sweet scent invaded her senses and she fought against him, but he had managed to maneuver her into a relatively small and tight corner in the alleyway, her strength rapidly leaching out of her body.
And then, the world went black.