Smoothing his expression to indifference, he shifted and faced his father. “I think I shall invite the widowed viscountess to call upon us. Then perhaps you will be occupied enough to direct your energy elsewhere, instead of agitating over how long I look at my wife.”
His father spluttered and sent him a stare that promised retribution. Disregarding the old earl, Hugh pondered just how close should he allow Lady Phoebe into his life. Even though his marriage had always been plotted and ruthlessly calculated, it was for better or worse and until death parted them. He prided himself on his level and shrewd judgment of a man or woman’s character, which could be immediately discerned the very first time they met. His wife’s own was a bit difficult to decipher.
He was curious to find out exactly who was this woman who would walk by his side. Was she kind? Did she, too, have the capacity for ruthlessness, especially when it came to protecting her family? Or was she prone to hysteria and fainting spells at the first hint of a problem? How would she truly react when those rumormongers came knocking on their door? With fear and anger, or with her head lifted high and proud?
Her composure now was quite admirable. She was quite aware that she was the recipient of several stares, yet she acted as if it was all unremarkable.
Knowledge bloomed through Hugh. That careful grace he witnessed was all a contrived act, and he wondered at the true heart of the woman before him. Hugh listed the attributes he’d observed.
She is bold and reckless.
She is courageous.
The very notion that she could dare to rebel against a powerful duke and duchess spoke to her vibrant and unflinching spirit. She would not be a lady overset by nerves or such nonsense in times of difficulty.
She does not hesitate to speak her fears or her hopes.
She once believed in love.
That bit of silliness would easily be cured. Love had clearly disappointed her and left her to deal with her parents and society’s wrath on her own. Surely from now on, practicality would guide her decisions.
My lady wife also seems to have an incurable sweet tooth.
The luncheon that had been laid out for them had held several cakes and treacle, and she had enjoyed them all while ignoring the braised duck, roasted pork, fish, and artichoke in cream sauce.
There is so much more to know about you…and how curious that I should want to know everything. And how opportune that her condition would see them away from London long enough for him to find out.
Hugh stood and walked toward the end of the long dining table, which had put at least thirty places between him and his viscountess. Her shoulders tensed at his approach, but she lifted her chin, met his regard, and pasted a smile on her face. What fine acting.
He could see the flutter of a pulse at her throat, as if a winged creature was held captive there. Instead of admiring her ability to gather her composure, a chill of warning went through Hugh, and the cynic in him noted the capacity for deception even as he tipped his hat to her.
“Would you like to retire to your chamber?”
She looked at him expectantly while Caroline translated. Phoebe’s cheeks turned a deep shade of rose, and her lashes lowered briefly. “Yes, as you wish.”
As he wished? Ah, she expected him to bed her. His gaze involuntarily went to her rounded belly. Despite his deep attraction to her, he would not exercise any husbandly rights, not while she was with child. This show of submissiveness was not her true character, and he did not like it. “I shall escort you.”
She stood and to his surprise went down the length of the table to his father and dipped into a farewell curtsy. Yet she threw a very unladylike wave at Caroline before walking away. In silence, he guided her down the prodigious hallway and to the second stairs that curved toward the west wing. She hesitated briefly before following his wave, her gloved hands clasped tightly before her, her bare feet padding noiselessly on the thick carpeted floor.
Once at the landing, he placed a hand at the small of her back and guided her to her rooms. He opened the door and stepped back, allowing her to precede him inside. Once over the threshold, she gasped. “Why, it’s lovely!”
Her chambers consisted of a spacious and elegantly decorated bedchamber and two adjoining rooms, where one would serve as a dressing room and the other a sitting room. Rose-silk curtains surrounded the bed, at which she stole a quick discreet glance before returning her regard to him. Hugh withdrew a note from his pockets.
She reached for it and unfolded the paper, which read, “This is the Countess’s chamber…and the connecting door leads to my chamber.”
For a moment, she could not meet his eyes, and a wave of red blossomed over her face and throat. “I see. Thank you.”
They stood in awkward silence with her clutching the note as if it were a lifeline. He hadn’t thought to prepare another note informing her that she need not fear his advances. He was a patient man, and he did not marry her to satiate his baser urges even if they were stirring to life with the violence of a winter storm. He had learned over the years to master his emotions and expectations and in this situation, he could do the same.
As far as Hugh was concerned, they did not need to share the same bed until he was ready for his heir. His only priority now was to see about getting his sister and brother settled, one through marriage and the other with a respectable position and a marriage. A thing they both ardently wanted but believed, because of their bastardy and unique situation, such a living and contentment would be forever denied to them. Rubbish, of course. And certainly not if Hugh had anything to do about it.
Unable to express any of this, he sketched a quick bow and turned around.
“You are leaving?”
How astonished she sounded…and relieved. Hugh faced her and nodded once.
Her gaze searched his face intently as if she tried to discern his thoughts. Unexpectedly, her eyes brightened, and a soft smile appeared on her lush lips. She made her way over to him, lifted her hands, and cupped his cheek in a caress that felt as gentle as the brush of a butterfly’s wing. “Thank you for your consideration,” she murmured a bit huskily. “I am very much obliged to you, and I shall never forget your kindness, my lord.”
Her action shocked Hugh into profound stillness and sent his thoughts spinning. It had been years since anyone had touched him in such a manner…and the last person he could recall cupping his cheeks had been his mother. The awareness pulled a flinch from him, and a delicate pink stain spread from Phoebe’s cheeks down her throat. She hurriedly dropped her hand and stepped back.
Swallowing tightly past the knot in his throat, he bowed and withdrew from the room.
Once in the hallway, a silent breath shuddered from him. What had that been about? He walked away, and some instinct urged him to look back, so he did. She stood in the shadows of the doorway, watching his retreat with her large golden eyes. She lifted her hand in a small wave, and Hugh felt like an idiot when he paused, lifted a hand, and waved back.