Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
The carriage ride home was silent.
Not the sort that settled during their better moments, words seemed unnecessary and the peace the quiet brought was shared rather than endured.
This was the kind that felt heavy and suffocating, the kind that made Phoebe acutely aware of every breath she took and every slight shift of her body against the seat cushion.
Nervously, she kept her hands folded in her lap and her eyes trained on the window, watching the dark shapes of London pass by though she was not truly seeing any of it. From the corner of her eye, very subtly and carefully, she watched Edward as well.
He sat across from her, one arm braced against the carriage wall, his jaw set and his gaze also seemingly away from her general area.
He had said nothing since he ushered her into the carriage.
She had opened her mouth twice and then thought better of it both times, the words dissolving on her tongue before they could become anything useful.
What would she even say?
Would she beg for forgiveness? Claim that she had not meant for any of what had happened to transpire?
Would she restate that she had only wanted to help her family, which was something she had always done and had not thought to request his help because they had agreed their relationship was void of anything that made them truly partners?
Would that sound as though she was blaming him for her actions?
The justifications and excuses rose and fell within her, each one more sounding weaker than the last. Because the truth was, he was not entirely wrong to be upset.
She had kept things from him. She had moved about in the dark, doing things behind his back, and even if her reasons were good – and she believed they were – the manner in which she had gone about it had been careless, despite her best efforts. She could not pretend otherwise.
And now he knew.
Phoebe pressed her lips together and forced herself to breathe slowly as she reminded herself that this was not the most difficult moment she has had to endure in her life, and no matter what, as she had gotten through the ones in the before, she shall survive this one too.
But saying that and truly believing it were two different subjects.
Before she realized it, she had begun to think of the worst things that could happen to their marriage.
There might be an annulment, perhaps. Or a cold separation of their living arrangements – which would result in the return of the stiff formalities and distance that had been present at the beginning.
It would destroy all the fragile things that had been steadily growing between them and when she thought of losing all the attention, he had given her, the care he had shown and the lust he had willingly granted control, it hurt her heart.
After what felt like ages, the carriage rolled to a stop at their estate and Phoebe straightened herself against the seat, composing her expression into something that she hoped looked like calm.
She would not grovel. If he wished to speak to her, she would face it with whatever dignity she had left.
Edward stepped down from the carriage first. And then, before she could gather herself to follow, he reached back in and took her hand.
Phoebe blinked but followed his lead, her attention barely on her steps but focused more on his grip that was firm but not harsh, his fingers gently curling around hers. She expected him to release her once she was on solid ground, but he held on, effectively dragging her along with.
“Edward,” she called out, doing her best to his pace through the entrance hall, blushing at the surprised expressions of the two footmen who had been preparing to retire for the evening. “Where are we –”
He did not answer as he continued his determined walk and all she could do was continue to follow, even as the confusion grew heavier and heaving in hers.
He took her past the foyer, up the staircase and past the hallway that would have taken her to her bedroom, until they end up in a part of the house that was unfamiliar.
After a moment, she realized she had passed this area a few times, and was told that the duke’s bed chamber was at the end of the hall.
Surely, that was not where he was taking them –
Phoebe’s heart began to beat rapidly as he opened the door at the end of the hallway, pulled her inside and released her hand only to close the door behind them.
Then he turned to face her in the soft glow of light emanating from the fire in the hearth.
He looked different than he usually did – less guarded and more tired somehow.
“Edward,” she said again, and this time her voice came out smaller than she intended, the composure she had been carefully reserving threatening to give way.
“Whatever it is you mean to say – whatever consequences you have decided upon – I would ask that you simply say them. I can bear it. I would prefer whatever punishment you desire to dole out over the silence.”
He looked at her for a long moment, and because she was trying to be brave by staring back, she noticed a shift in his eyes, a complicated feeling she could not entirely be sure she recognized. Likely because she had never seen such an emotion on him. After bit, he exhaled deeply.
“I am not going to punish you,” he said quietly.
“You – pardon?”
“I was angry,” he admitted, and sounded like the most honest thing she had ever heard him say. “I was frightened that you had been unfaithful and then I was angry that you had been sneaking about, and I said things that I should not have said. That was wrong of me.”
Phoebe stared at him. “You are apologizing?”
“I am telling you the truth. Which I expect you to do, in return, henceforth.” He crossed the distance between them slowly, stopping just before her, close enough that she could smell the earthy, almost smoky cologne that usually clung to his skin. “You should have told me.”
Phoebe lowered her eyes in shame. “I know.”
“You should have come to me the moment you needed anything. That is what I am here for. I know that we did not begin as most marriages do. I know that I was not always forthcoming about the sort of husband I intended to be. But I need you to hear me now, Phoebe, and I need you to believe what I am about to say.”
She raised her gaze once more, barely breathing as she waited for him to say what he intended to.
“You are not a burden.” He stated simply, with a certainty that shook her down to her very core.
“You will never be a burden to me. Whatever your family needs, you have only to ask. Whatever you need. You are my wife and I forbid you – absolutely forbid you – from ever using that word about yourself again in my presence. Do you understand me?”
The rapid way throat tightened reminded her that she had been trying to suppress a lot of emotions for so long. “Edward –”
“Tell me that you understand me.”
“I understand you,” she whispered.
“Good.” He raised a hand and gently tucked a loose strand of hair back from her face, his touch barely grazing her cheek.
“I would like you to rely on me. That is all I ask. Let me carry some of what you carry. Allow yourself to use me as I am meant to be used. I am your husband. That must mean something, even in an arrangement such as ours.”
Phoebe felt her eyes fill with tears and she knew she couldn’t hide them anymore. But before they fell, he kissed her.
It was nothing like what she had expected.
She had thought that whatever passed between them – after all of the high emotions and stubborn tension that had nearly smothered them – this would be like when he had a need to be met during the ball and had no qualms taking it until he was satisfied.
But this... this was much different from anything they had shared together.
His lips moved over hers as though he had all the time in the world and intended to use every second of it.
The kisses alternated between chaste pecks, brief brushes of his lips against hers, and then he crowded her against the door and slid his tongue into her mouth, deepening the kiss.
Phoebe felt herself lean into him without meaning to, her hands rising to rest against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her palms and marveling, silent, at the fact that it seemed to match her own.
He drew back only long enough to look at her, his eyes dark in the firelight, his expression much more open than he had ever seen it.
“Come here,” he said softly.
He guided her to the edge of his bed and settled behind her, his chest warm and solid at her back, his arms a steady presence around her.
His lips found the curve of her neck, unhurried, and she felt his fingers begin to work through the fastenings of her cloak, setting it aside before his hands moved to the laces of her gown.
His touch remained as deliberate as each press of his lips against the nape of her neck and she felt herself gradually come undone.
“You frightened me tonight,” he murmured against her skin, low enough that she would have believed she imagined it if she had not felt the words against her skin. “Wandering about in the dark like that. Do not do it again.”
“I won't,” she breathed, and meant it entirely.
He turned her gently until she was facing him, her gown loose around her shoulders.
She wondered what he thought of her, like this; bathed in the warm the firelight, with her hair tucked back and giving her scar no place to hide.
His eyes roamed over her body, looking and studying and she felt exposed but somehow, she did not hate it.
He managed to disrobe her and as her dress made its way to the floor, he pulled her flush against his chest, with one hand around her throat and the other wrapped around her hip, tracing her soft curves.
“You are so remarkably stubborn,” he said against her skin, and somehow it sounded entirely like an endearment.