Page 28 of Duchess Needed
“It feels as though my heart is about to burst,” Phoebe mumbled to herself with a hand over her heart.
Finally, a week had passed since her wedding night and tonight, she would once more be approached by her husband to officially consume their marriage.
At first, she was thankful for his offer for her to take time to come to terms with the idea of what they were to do. But as the night approached, she found herself growing more and more irritated. If he had just done what was needed on that night, she would not be in this predicament – practically ill with unease. To the point that she had barely been able to eat much of dinner but feared upsetting Liam, so she forced herself to eat at least half of her usual serving.
Now, as she awaited his arrival, Phoebe stood before the long mirror in her dressing room for a moment, studying herself with the frank, unsentimental gaze she had learned to apply to most things in her life. She was not going to pretend this was easy. Itwas not easy. But she was not going to let it be something to fear, either.
Just like she had on the first night, he had dismissed Jenny earlier than usual, claiming a headache, which meant there was nothing holding her back from enacting her plan. After a deep breath, with quiet composure that made her feel proud she began to undress.
It was quite methodical and she told herself it was no different from preparing for bed, which she had done every night of her life. She folded her dress over the chair, then she removed her corset, her chemise and her stockings. She did not let herself think too hard about any of it until she was done and standing in the cool evening air of her bedroom with nothing to do but walk to the bed and settle on top of the covers and wait.
Which she did.
The restlessness was not as bad as it had been on the first night, but rather she was almost bored as the moments ticked further and further towards the inevitable.
Eventually, Phoebe lay on her back, staring up at the canopy of the bed, her arms folded primly across her middle as she took deep, calming breaths. Then she decided that was too stiff and shifted onto her side. Then she decided that looked too deliberate and shifted again.
“Perhaps, even a little bit of nervousness is quite powerful,” she mumbled, as she studied her hair and wondered if she should have brushed it a bit.
Finally, she settled on lying with one arm tucked beneath the pillow and the other resting at her side, which she thought struck a balance between appearing natural and not looking as though she were laid out for her own burial.
The debate on whether this had been a good idea was still ongoing when a knock came at the door.
“Come in,” she said with a steady voice as she sat up slightly, just enough that she looked as though she had just roused from a deep slumber.
The door opened, and in walked her husband. Edward moved as confidently as he usually did, only this time, he had taken three steps into the room and stopped.
The stillness that followed lasted only a moment – perhaps two – but Phoebe felt every second of it acutely. She watched his face, which was very good at giving very little away, and saw the precise instant that his expression shifted. His green eyes darkened, giving him a more intense look than she had ever seen on him, replacing the usual calm and casual way his gaze shifted through rooms. Phoebe was not sure what it was, though she suspected it had to do with people meant when they said a man had intent in his gaze.
It made her nervous – finally, properly nervous. Her skin prickled and she resisted the urge to reach for the sheets to cover herself.
“Good evening,” she greeted, because someone had to say something.
Edward blinked, as though returning to himself, echoing curtly,
“Good evening.”
He stepped further into the room and closed the door behind him, his gaze still on her with that new, unsettling quality. “I see you have made yourself comfortable.”
“I thought it would be easier,” she replied, willing her voice not to quake under any circumstances. “Rather than make a strenuous process of things.”
There was a brief pause, the darkness in his eyes lightening slightly with amusement though the look did not spread over his whole face, before he questioned,
“Easier for whom, exactly?”
Phoebe opened her mouth, then closed it again. She had not quite thought through that particular detail, and now she was annoyed at him for being so thorough.
“For both of us,” she stated firmly.
“Mm,” he nodded, sounding as though he did not believe that particular sentiment as he moved even further into the room, but still somehow far from her.
Phoebe found it maddening, how closely he still his calm demeanor. He paused by the chair where she had draped her dress and glanced down at it briefly before looking back at her.
“I can think of no reason to object to the surprise,” he reasoned easily. “Nor, I suspect, could any man in his right mind. To be welcomed in such a way is –” he paused, as if considering his words. “It is not something a man will easily forget.”
“You are making it strange,” Phoebe told him, finally sitting up proper and adjusting her position so her legs draped over the side of the bed.
“I am simply being honest.” He reached up and began to remove his cravat.
