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

Instead of answering, the Viscount made his way over to her.

She choked on a gasp as he came behind her and lifted her in his arms. Shocked, she snapped her head up to meet his gaze. Except he wasn’t looking at her but staring straight ahead. His fingers tightened on her shoulder, then they relaxed and moved in a slow, soothing stroke in a seemingly involuntary gesture.

He took her down the hallway and then into a room where the door was ajar. It was a very cozy room done in shades of emerald and gold, with matching drapes. The sofas and carpet were a more muted color, which complemented well the overall elegance of the décor. An open book rested on a small table, along with a tumbler and an empty glass. He lowered her onto the sofa, and Phoebe silently watched him, knowing he would be unable to respond to any of her demands.

He went to his knee and lifted one of her feet in his hand. With gentle care, he removed her shoes, one after the other, to reveal her stocking-clad feet. Phoebe groaned her relief, staring to see how bad her feet were. They almost felt numb, and another pulse of worry went through her. The doctor she’d seen earlier had assured her that it was quite normal for some women to have swollen limbs, and he recommended a daily constitutional walk for her. He had been frightfully efficient in his examination and had reassured her that all was well with her child.

The Viscount went even lower and removed his boots and revealed his own stocking-clad feet. Phoebe grinned up at him in astonishment when he held out his hands. Then she glanced back down at his feet. A giggle slipped from her, startling her. She hadn’t laughed in such a long time, Phoebe had forgotten what it felt like. She grasped his outstretched hand and was pulled to her feet.

“We will scandalize the household,” she said airily. “But I am terribly charmed by your willingness to take a walk with me on the wild side.”

He blinked and stared at her as if he could not figure her out. Phoebe flushed but refused to lower her gaze from his.

“I can be quite capricious,” she murmured. “Now it is your turn to tell me one of your qualities.” For she was desperate to know something more about this man she would soon be married to and one she would be bound to for the rest of her life.

Dear God. Her heart started to race. This was forever. Marrying a man she knew so little about.

His fingers lifted, then he hesitated, and she felt his frustration like a tangible entity. For a moment, she had forgotten his limitation.

His condition struck her forcibly then. The man she was about to marry was mute. So many questions crowed through her mind, and her heart ached for him. Had he always been mute or was it the cause of an accident? A soft breath shuddered from her at the realization learning about each other would prove even more challenging.

“I…I…” She was not certain what to say.

His expression shuttered to polite civility, and he guided her from the room. Phoebe snuck a few glances at his side profile, unable to understand the sudden pounding of her heart and the anxiety she felt. When Caroline saw them, she stared at their feet for a bit before she smiled and hurried ahead to the chapel. There was a connecting door that they went through, down a narrow corridor. The floor beneath her feet was chilly stone but smooth, and the walls of this hallway, which led to the chapel, were gray stones.

The door was already open, and when they stepped through, Phoebe faltered. Caroline waited at the front with the older man from yesterday. He appeared a bit wan, but he was impeccably dressed in a jacket and suit, with a gray striped waistcoat and cravat.

A man who looked to be a clergyman also waited. She could feel their stare on her high rounded belly, then to her stocking clad feet. The old man looked ready to growl when he noted the Viscount was also without shoes. A slight tug on her arm had Phoebe sliding her feet forward and grabbing Hugh’s arm tightly.

This is my new family. A pounding ache went through her heart. She did not want to lose her old family, even though she knew the duke and duchess would not look at her with such patience and understanding. It baffled her that the older man and Caroline could regard her without any condemnation despite her ruination.

They halted before the man and Caroline. He removed his arm from her and signed. She gathered this was an introduction.

The old man nodded a few times, and his green eyes upon her, while not exactly warm, were not cold, either.

“I am very pleased to meet you, Lady Phoebe,” he said with a gruff yet sincere charm. “I am Edward Winthrop, the Earl of Albury. Welcome to our family.”

Her throat went tight, as too many emotions rippled through her heart. “Thank you for your kindness, Lord Albury,” she said, dipping into a curtsy.

“Well then, let’s get on with it. I won’t live forever,” he said grumpily.

Startled, Phoebe glanced up at Hugh to see that there was a hint of a smile across his mouth, and his eyes were warm with humor. They were all so different from what she had feared; it made no sense. She was obliged to think she had fallen in with a family of charming eccentrics. Inexplicably, she felt overwhelmed, and as they turned to face the Minister, Phoebe tried and failed to suppress a chuckle.

It wasn’t soft or sweet, but rich and full-throated, one the duchess usually rebuked her for. The viscount squeezed her fingers and she glanced at him. “I do,” she said softly.

He stiffened, and then a slow and an utterly alluring smile curved his lips. The earl grunted and sent her such a suspicious glare, it wiped the smile from her mouth. When they faced forward to say their vows, Phoebe silently promised to make the best of her marriage.

Even if there were no love, she would not mind, for she did not need that bit of silliness in her life again. But I’ll make us work. I vow to respect this second chance I am given; I will always act with dignity and decorum…and our marriage shall not be cold at all.

Chapter Seven

About an hour after the minister had pronounced them husband and wife, it occurred to Hugh that he had no notion of what exactly to do with his wife. Staring at her carefully contained expression as she ate the last morsel of cake on her plate, he wondered, What now? He’d satisfied one of his father’s biggest hopes, but how did the cog of her fit into the wheel of his life? Her role once they reached London society was evident to his mind, but what about before then?

It would be months, perhaps even a year, before they could venture to England. It would not be safe for her to travel too often given her pregnancy. Those were the strict instructions of the doctor this morning, and Dr. Edward was a man renowned in Edinburgh for his medical talent.

Phoebe’s confinement should be as stress-free as possible to ensure the safe delivery of the child. And afterward, she would need a few months to recuperate her health and energy.

There it was again. That odd weakness that assailed his heart whenever he thought of the child and that in a few weeks he would assume the role of a father.