Page 46 of Duchess Needed
“That is all I ask, dear friend,” Thomas grinned. “I look forward to beating you properly next time.”
“You can continue to have such grand dreams,dear friend. They suit you quite well,” Edward mocked, deciding it was probably time he went home.
The house had begun to look and feel somewhat warmer and much more homely since Phoebe begun her role as the duchess. It amazed him endlessly, how much work she had put into renovating different parts of the house and redecorating, even though he had not asked her to.
He had wondered on several different occasions if perhaps their agreement truly was unequal on as many levels as it seemed, but then Phoebe still appeared content to do what was expected of her without much of a fight, going above and beyond as well. And while he wished to find solace in the fact that he had not asked that of her – not expressly and as such, he held no directinfluence over her decisions – the guilt occasionally bothered him.
“Your Grace, good afternoon,” the housekeeper greeted him as he walked down the hallway that led to his study. “I trust you had a wonderful day out.”
“It was excellent, but I have to suspend my intents to parade around London bragging about my win because my sparring partner has requested a rematch. Can you believe the audacity, Maude? It seems I must show that man that he must not trust that because his age would give any sort of advantage over me,” Edward stated resolutely, wondering if he should send a letter to the Ravencroft estate with his determination to beat Thomas thoroughly in its pages, and have it delivered directly to the duchess.
He had no doubt the entire affair would amuse Jane immensely.
“That sounds like a grand idea, Your Grace. I have no doubt that victory will be yours,” Maude stated hurriedly as he opened the door to his study. “That being said, there is a problem, Your Grace and w-we think only you would be able to resolve it.”
It was in that moment that Edward realized the older woman had been walking after him, clearly not wanting to interrupt his silly rant, even though whatever she wanted to say was quite important.
“What is it? Is something wrong?” he queried with a frown.
She glanced sideways briefly and leaned in close. “It’s the duchess. Her Grace has not had anything to eat all day. She has not even ventured out of her room at all! We’ve offered to bring her meals or tea, but she has turned them all down. At some point, she stopped answering our knocks at the door.”
Edward felt his heart sink at the idea that Phoebe might be sick and was refusing to entertain the assistance of any of the staff. If she had been locked up all day, that was not good for her health under any circumstances.
“I will check on her at once,” Edward stated before closing the door to his study.
He quickly turned around and headed in the direction he had come, making his way to Phoebe’s room. When he arrived at the door, he knocked twice, and when he received no response, he tried to turn the handle of the door, irritated when it did not budge.
She had really locked herself inside.
“Phoebe? Phoebe are you all right? Can you hear me?” he called out, rapping against the door with his fist, slightly at first, then louder by the last three times.
She did nor answer, and he grew even more worried. He turned to Maude.
“Did she seem sick last night? Or hurt in any way?”
“N-No Your Grace,” the housekeeper stammered uncertainly. “She seemed fine, but when we came to fetch her for breakfast, she did not leave her room, only stating that she was not hungry. All attempts to bring her refreshments were refused and eventually she stopped answering.”
“You should have sent for a doctor! What if she grew ill and fainted?” Edward snapped as his anxiety continued to grow immensely.
He faced the door and knocked again, his heart thrumming in his ears as he tried not to let his panic win over his reasoning.
Unfortunately, things did not go as he had planned, and in the next moment, he was waving Maude away from the door. And then he slammed himself against it. At first, there was no give, then on his second try, the wood gave way as the lock broke and he stumbled into Phoebe’s room.
His eyes glanced around wildly, half expecting her to be beneath her covers on slumped in a heap on the floor, barely breathing.
Instead, he heard the sounds of a pen on paper, and followed the sound to find Phoebe, in perfect health, seated at her desk. Her eyes were trained on a piece of parchment and her hands clutched a fountain pen that moved across the paper swiftly, almost faster than his eyes could see.
She seemed to be drawing what looked like a cartoonish depiction of couples promenading in the park, their features indistinguishable, but no less human, with their large earsalmost pointing in the direction of a man standing on top of a wooden box in the middle of the grass.
She continued to add little detail here and there, more shade to a tree, more definition to a parasol and it looked as though the whole thing might have taken her the whole day to draw.
“Have you been at this all day?”
Phoebe jumped at the sound of his voice and whirled around to face him, eyes wide with fright.
“E-Edward? How long have you been standing there?”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
