When the Earl Met His Match (Wedded by Scandal 4)

Hugh passed her the novel, which they were more than halfway through, and drew his beast of a dog closer. Caroline started to read, and invariably his thoughts turned to Lady Phoebe, wondering if he had made the right decision. She had not been in his home for a day, and Hugh felt that he had been altered in a manner he had yet to understand or may never do.

And he still could not understand the emotions twisting through him. His heart raced, his senses were aware, and deep down, there was a peculiar sense of uncertainty. He had always embraced changes, hating when life seemed to stand still in any way.

Yet now his thoughts darted in several directions, refusing to respond to the control he’d mastered over his emotions years ago. It was with a jolting sense of bemusement that Hugh realized he anticipated the future state of being married to Lady Phoebe.

…

Phoebe glided down the curving staircase, her gloved hand trailing along the banner as she made her way to Hugh Winthrop. The beautifully rendered paintings that hung high on the wall commanded her gaze. She faltered in front of a portrait, which showed a rather handsome man with white-blond hair and vibrant green eyes. It was the elderly gentleman who had stood by the forecourt yesterday but had hobbled away. Surrounding him in the paintings were three children, and it was very easy to identify the viscount. Although she realized that the elder gentleman’s hair would have been a powdered wig as had been the fashion of the time, something struck her as peculiar. In the painting, Hugh appeared a lad of about fourteen years, and even then, he had been terribly handsome. Yet his eyes were so lonely.

Looking at his somber expression made her heart ache. Even the older gentleman possessed an air of sadness, his eyes also empty. Lowering her gaze to the other children, Phoebe blinked to see that both possessed a shock of bright red hair and gray eyes. There was no resemblance between anyone in the portrait—Phoebe frowned—except for the cheekbones. Each child shared high, slanted cheekbones, which lent an air of elegance to their attractiveness.

The clock in the hallway chimed. She took another step down and gasped at the pain that went through her ankle. Moving carefully, she held onto the banner and descended the stairs. She could hear the distant rumble of thunder through the thick stone walls of the castle. Rain fell in earnest with the occasional flash of lightning splitting the sky. The warm sweet scent of flowers filled the hallway, which was also remarkably quiet and absent of servants.

It was her wedding day.

Only the second day after arriving on the viscount’s door, she was poised to become Lady Phoebe Winthrop, Viscountess Huxley and the future Countess of Albury. In her flight from home, Sarah had smartly insisted on selecting Phoebe’s best gowns, especially the ones that had been ordered by the duchess to hide her condition. She wore a peach morning dress of French silk and a bronze ribbon threaded around her waist. Her hair had been caught up in a cascade of curls and pearls threaded through the strands.

Sarah’s whisper of, “You are so beautiful, milady,” had urged Phoebe to assess her appearance in the mirror. She had been astonished that the rosy-cheeked girl with glittering eyes staring back was truly her. How often had Sarah remarked on Phoebe’s paleness? And with a sense of wonder, she realized the dread that had been heavy in her heart for almost a year had finally subsided.

There still lingered a piercing disquiet as she embarked on a new life with a stranger. Phoebe hardly knew what to expect and could not imagine what their marriage would be like, if they would ever find contentment or any joy with each other. It had felt much easier speaking with him through letters. The notion that they might be miserable and have an indifferent union like most in the ton threatened to blot out her joy, but she stubbornly pushed those feelings aside. At least his kiss had been pleasant. More than pleasant…it had been terribly exciting, and that was something to hold on to.

There was nothing to do but look to the future. She could only hope he would treat her with kind consideration, and she would endeavor to do the same. She closed her eyes briefly, hating that she would endure a marriage that was loveless, the opposite of what she had hoped. In his letters the viscount had been very firm on his stance on sentiment, and she had felt such pity for the woman he would take to be his.

Now I am that lady.

But Phoebe refused to pity herself, for it would be foolish to trust in the idea of love again. Perhaps then, even with the absence of love between them, they would have an amicable marriage.

Please, God, let it be something more than cold misery.

At the bottom of the stairs, she followed the instructions she’d received on how to locate the chapel. Phoebe had to slow her steps after a bit, grimacing at the growing discomfort in her feet. Taking a deep breath, she gingerly walked forward and winced, her shoes pinching her feet horribly. Phoebe turned around, peered down the long hallway and up at the double winding staircase. She hadn’t imagined the fit would have gotten so much tighter when Sarah had assisted Phoebe in slipping her feet in the delicate shoes.

It would be torturous to try and make it back to her room, but something had to be done.

“Have you changed your mind, Lady Phoebe?”

At Lady Caroline’s voice, she whirled around. Caroline was fetching in a yellow dress styled in the latest fashion. However, her hair hung loosely down her back in wild and beautiful disarray. They had met a few hours ago when they had broken their fast together. Phoebe had felt an immediate liking for Caroline, and they had spent the hour chatting as if they had been friends for some time.

Her brother stood with her, and Phoebe’s cheeks heated alarmingly as the memory of their kiss lingered in the air. She had seen him at least twice since morning, and each moment she had blushed like a silly girl in the schoolroom. It was so frustrating. She was with child, for heaven sakes, already having known intimacy with a gentleman, yet she had not blushed once upon seeing George after that night in the gardens. However, it was increasingly difficult to meet the viscount’s stare

, for she swore each time their gazes collided, his provoking regard suggested he wished they were kissing again and again.

“Was that your question or your brother’s?”

His hand touched his chest, and she gathered that meant mine.

“No…I’ve not changed my mind. I was heading to the chapel; however, my shoes are hurting my feet dreadfully. I was hoping to return to my chambers and see if I have something else that is roomier. But I quite doubt it; you see the swelling of my feet is a bit perplexing,” she said, feeling self-conscious, resting a protective hand over her stomach.

The viscount’s gaze went to her belly, and she flushed, placing her hand back down by her side. Refusing to be mortified when she had already come to terms with her fall from grace, she lifted her chin.

“I do have a solution,” she declared, sticking out one of her feet. “If you’ll assist me in taking them off, I shall do without shoes.”

Caroline made a choked sound and sent a swift glance to gauge her brother’s reaction. To Phoebe’s astonishment, a hint of a smile lingered about his mouth.

He lifted his fingers and signed. Caroline sent him a searching glance before turning to Phoebe.

“We’ll go barefoot, then,” she relayed with some amusement twinkling in her gray eyes.

Phoebe smiled at him. She had not really expected him to agree. Then the import of Caroline’s words resounded. “We?”