When the Earl Met His Match (Wedded by Scandal #4) - Stacy Reid Page 0,62
penetrating, yet his face politely indifferent. She thrust her hands behind her back, and he arched a brow and came further through the door.
“Who is George?” Hugh signed, his expression mild and vaguely interested.
How long had he been standing there? “I…” It felt silly that she had pushed the letters behind her, and she did not understand why she had done so. “My brother…Richard…he wrote to me.”
Hugh said nothing, and his unwavering regard pushed her to further speech.
“He…he believes our marriage is…is a mistake…and…” She stopped talking when he canted his head to the side.
His fingers spoke. “I see. And with his power and influence, he will bury our union, which is still unconsummated, and allow for a marriage with this George.”
She had never doubted that her husband was a shrewd man. Phoebe pressed a hand to her chest, as if that would still the furious pounding of her heart. She was not sure what she expected from her husband in this moment, but it was not the insouciance displayed. Her brother did have the money to make the world turn in the direction he wished, but so did Hugh.
“Yes.”
Hugh’s gaze lowered to her swollen mound. “Is George the person who is responsible for your pregnancy?”
She lifted her chin, quite aware Hugh had never asked her questions about her circumstances. “Yes.”
“And do you wish to leave and marry him?”
Phoebe staggered and reached out to grasp the arm of the sofa for support. “I am married to you,” she breathed. “I…I cannot just leave, Hugh.”
“That does not answer my question.”
To Phoebe’s mind, it did. But then she recalled his mother had been married when she had left to live with her lover. Her lips parted, and she stared at him with a sense of shock. “No, I do not want to marry him,” she said empathically. “And this entire conversation is ludicrous because I am married to you.”
He arched a quizzical brow. “Do you not still love this man? Many people have acted with rank foolishness in the name of love. I see no evidence you would be an exception.”
How easy he spoke of the notion of her loving another man. Phoebe was flummoxed by the ache traveling through her heart down to her very bones. “I love no one,” she said with icy civility.
They stared at each other for long moments, and she desperately wondered what thoughts went on in his head. Her husband dipped into a short bow, turned around, and walked away. Why had he sought her out in the first place? Folding the letters, she tucked them into the drawer of the writing desk then walked over to the sofa and sat down, feeling bewildered.
What had just happened?
Wolf, who had been lazing on the carpet, bounded up on the sofa. After cuddling with Wolf for several minutes, Phoebe rang for Sarah, who assisted her to the music room down the hallway. Once there, she sat before one of the most beautiful pianofortes she had ever seen and lightly tested the keys, which were revealed to be well tuned. Taking a deep breath, she played, hoping to hide away from the brewing feelings in her heart and what it might mean if her husband proved incapable of returning them.
Her fingers leaped as if they had a life of their own, and music spilled into the air.
Thoughts of Hugh, from their early letters to the first moment she met him to their many kisses, swirled in her mind and heart. A mix of confusion, doubt, and such terrible yearning for more collided inside and drove her to play with impassioned intensity.
Chapter Twelve
The scent of lemon wax and pinecones was redolent on the air, and in the distance, someone played on the pianoforte. The old earl, who had been hobbling down the hall, paused, acute longing settling on his face. Whoever played was incredibly skilled, and Hugh suspected it was his wife, for the grand pianoforte had been silent for years.
Once he’d asked his father why he ordered it to be cleaned and tuned so faithfully when none of his children played. And it was then he’d learned his mother loved music and it was for her the earl had bought the instrument. His father shuffled toward the music room and eased the door open. Hugh silently padded closer, so he was positioned some distance away behind his father and could also see into the room. His wife sat on the well-padded bench, her spine straight, her hair a riot