Page 61 of Duchess Needed
And yet, he felt devastated. The words had tasted like ash on his tongue as they spilled from his lips and he knew that he had hurt her, in ways he would never be able to fix. The look on her face – oh, God, the expression she had worn was the most devastating thing he had ever seen.
Edward knew he had likely ruined whatever affection she held for him. And if he had been honest with himself about the necessary ideal of protecting her, then he should have felt relieved. But all he knew was the despair growing within him, taking control of his senses. He felt as though he could hardly breathe.
Slowly, he made his way inside and requested that his tonic be brought to him immediately. The liquid was even more difficult to down then than it had ever been, and the ache in his chest did not dissipate either. So, Edward remained like that, leaning back in the settee in his office, trying to convince himself that he had been left with no other choice, despite the fact that he had given Thomas the impression he was returning home to offer Phoebe a choice of her own.
He wondered if he would go to hell when his time finally came and then he prayed that he would, if it would mean that he would be able to pay for the suffering he cost Phoebe.
He could only hope that would bring her solace someday.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“Is the meal not to your liking, Your Grace?”
Phoebe jumped slightly, startled out of her deep thoughts as she tried to recall where she was and what she had been doing. For a moment, she stared down at the utensils in her hands and the plate in front of her, still half-full.
Then she looked up at Maude and questioned,
“What? I'm sorry... I must have been lost in my thoughts.”
The housekeeper pursed her lips, as though she was trying not to point out that Phoebe had been rather distracted a lot these days – which Phoebe was grateful for – then she offered kindly,
“Would you like me to get you something else, Your Grace?”
Phoebe glanced down at her plate and contemplated getting another meal. Lately, she discovered she did not have much of an appetite and it was growing increasingly difficult to endure the nausea that befell her whenever she managed to eat even a little bit.
“N-No, it is fine,” the duchess shook her head, tightening her grip on her utensils with purpose. “I was only a little distracted. This meal is quite fine.”
She returned her full attention to her food, managing to pick up a morsel, working to chew on it and swallow, as though everything was all right. Her act seemed to convince the housekeeper who wandered off moments later, and Phoebe exhaled, returning to the previous routine of pushing food around her plate in order to push the guise that she was eating.
It had been rather hard to do much these days. Edward might have returned home, but it was no different from when he had been absent. They hardly crossed paths and in the rare occasion that they did, he was intent on ignoring her completely. Things had not been this strained or isolated during the earlier days of their marriage and dealing with this attitude from him hurt Phoebe in ways she could not explain.
She did not know what to say or do to convince him to change his mind about the walls he was so desperate to put between them – or if she even could.
It was stifling, just how big and empty their home felt without any interactions between them and it was getting harder andhard for Phoebe to pretend it wasn’t affecting her at all. Even the garden that once provided her with solace and comfort had lost its appeal. And because she had given Edward her word that she would no longer work for Mr Lambert, there was no commission or deadline to consume her focus or distract her. All she wished to do these days was lay down and wallow in her regret.
Although, it was difficult to say what her regret was.
With a sigh, she downed a glass of water and dabbed at the corners of her lips with her napkin before she rose out of her seat, tired of the charade that breakfast had become.
As she opened a door of the dinning hall, she came face to face with Edward.
“Oh,” he exhaled, looking slightly surprised. “I thought you might still be having breakfast.”
She stared at him for a moment, working up the courage to respond, but unable to fathom what it was he expected her to say in response.
It had been a few weeks since they had been like this, in the same space for longer than a moment, with him not only seemingly willing but also prepared to have a conversation, and so she was caught off guard.
“I have just finished,” she managed, ignoring her still full plate that she had just left behind. “Is there something you need, Your Grace?”
Edward seemed to flinch at the formal address and she wondered if he would make a fuss about her decision not to call him by his name. However, he simply continued to speak, as though he had not noticed it at all.
“Ah, yes,” Edward cleared his throat, his gaze somewhat unfocused, as though he could not look right at her. “Do you have any plans for the afternoon? I'm afraid we were invited to a garden party at the Ravencroft estate and I forgot to mention it sooner. We do not have to go if you are not –”
“I will begin to prepare at once,” Phoebe said at once, moving to slip past him.
“Wait –” he grabbed onto her wrist to keep her from going too far.
His touch scorched in a way that made her knees weak. At once, she was back in his bed, engulfed by his warmth and his manly musk, lulled to sleep by the steady beating of his heart.
