Chapter Six

CHAPTER SIX

A fter a delicious chocolate pudding for dessert, Phee followed Lord Everly into the library. Four cozy chairs faced one another in a circle before the fireplace, which was burning low and slow, filling the room with heat but very little light. A few candles along the mantel were lit, drawing the room out of the gloomy atmosphere it no doubt could have become, and Phee’s shoulders relaxed at the ambiance. Rather than intimidating, the room appeared friendly. Comfortable. Like a place one could while away the hours on a rainy-day reading.

Lord Everly grabbed a low table and placed it between the two chairs closest to the fireplace, then went over to one of the glass enclosed cabinets and removed a deck of cards. Phee’s stomach knotted as she wondered what game he intended to play. While she was versed in a multitude of games as customary for young ladies, she rather detested them. They were time consuming, requiring the player to while away hours at a time to something frivolous, and while the rules of the game did not confuse her, the tittering and underhanded barbs struck at one another during the play did. Her mother assured her it was all in good fun, but Phee was not so sure.

When Lord Everly stood before a chair and smiled at her, Phee scrunched up her courage and took the chair opposite of him. The blue striped fabric and pillowy cushions surrounded her as she settled in her seat and a yawn threatened to overwhelm her at the comfort of it. This chair, no doubt, would make a wonderful place to read a book or take a nap.

Lord Everly sat across from her and began shuffling the deck of cards, a carefree smile on his lips. Phee took the moment to watch him, analyze the man she had just agreed to spend the remainder of her life with. The smile seemed immovable, as if glued to his face, and instead of chalking it up to a happy demeanor, she wondered at the purpose of it. Was he always happy? Jovial? The two times before their engagement that she had spent with him, the smile had been absent, a mask of discontent marring his gorgeous features. And gorgeous he was, for she could not lie about that. His sandy blond hair and chocolate brown eyes gave him the appearance of a friendly pup always excited to merely be in your presence. His complexion was clean, lightly tanned but unmarred by freckles or scars, as if he had been sculpted mere moments before. It was unnerving, really, just how handsome her husband was. And given his friendly disposition, she truly could find very little fault in him, except for that smile.

“Now then,” Lord Everly said as he began to deal the cards equally between the two of them, “the game we are going to play is Snap.”

Phee’s brow rose. “Snap? A children’s game? I used to play it as a young girl to learn the alphabet.”

He nodded, smile unmoving, as he finished dealing the cards. “Mine were pictures of animals.” With a shrug, he said, “Just because it is a game for children doesn’t mean adults can’t play it.”

“But it is such an easy game,” she said, perturbed. Did he think her incapable of playing something more complex? “I assure you, sir, I can play other games that require more of a challenge.”

Lord Everly looked at her, his smile transforming, the corners of his lips raising in devious pleasure and a small dimple appeared in one cheek. “Shall we make it more challenging?”

Phee rolled her eyes. “I assume you mean wagering?”

He nodded. “Something like that. Loser of a hand shares a secret about themselves.”

She stared at him, uncertain whether to laugh or wonder at her husband’s lucidity. “Why?”

He shrugged. “We are married, which means we’ve got a lot of time to be together. Don’t you think one of the requirements of friendship is knowledge about one another? How else would you propose we were to learn about each other’s likes and dislikes?”

Phee squinted at him. “I see,” she said, the words tentative as she picked up her stack of cards. “Who draws first?”

“Higher card?” he asked, motioning to her deck. “Count of three. One, two, three.”

They both flipped their cards over and Phee swallowed a squeal as she saw the king she had turned over, summarily beating his nine.

“Well done, my lady,” he said, with a mock bow and Phee chuckled, then paused at the sound.

She stopped, her thoughts turning inward as she assessed the situation. She was comfortable, nearly the same as at her parents’ home. Her heart was not racing, its beat strong, and her palms were dry and hands steady. She shook her head, confused by the notion. She was comfortable.

“Lady Phoebe,” Lord Everly said, her name on his lips a whisper that still had her head shooting up to meet his gaze. “Are you all right?”

Phee shook her head and smiled at him. “Yes, sorry. Yes.”

With a nod, Phee turned her card over, a five. Looking to Lord Everly, she watched as he flipped the first card in his deck revealing a seven. Their motions took on a rhythm as card after card was flipped, but when a pair of aces graced the top of each pile, Phee seized her moment. “Snap!”

Lord Everly’s head shot up and a bark of laughter filled the room. “Nicely done.”

Phee’s skin tingled at his words, and she rolled her eyes as she swiped up the cards she had won. “It’s a children’s game,” she said, leaning back in the chair. “Come on then, pay your dues, my lord.”

Lord Everly glanced at the ceiling, his mouth forming a thin line as he contemplated, then a smile took over his lips, the dimple appearing once more. “I detest peas.”

Her mouth dropped at the pronouncement. “That’s your secret? You dislike a form of legume?”

He smirked. “Did you think I was planning to confess to murder, wife?”

She frowned, whether from the endearment or his secret she was not certain. “No, I simply thought it’d be more scintillating than that.”

He nodded sagely. “I’ll do better next time. Ready to go again?”

Phee looked at the clock that sat upon the mantel, its hands ticking slowly toward half past eight. She yawned before sitting up and taking her cards in hand once more. “Ready.”

“Perhaps this should be our final hand of the night. You look nearly ready to curl up in that chair and sleep.”

She met his gaze and smiled. “It’s been an extremely long day.”

“That it has,” he said, returning her smile. “You begin.”

The next round went much shorter, Lord Everly calling snap as a pair of queens covered the table and he danced in his seat as he collected the piles. Phee sat back and puzzled, searching for a secret but uncertain which to share. One corner of her mouth pulled up as she had a devious thought and she leaned forward, ready to share.

“I hate blueberries.”

Lord Everly’s mouth fell agape, silence the only thing exiting his cherry-stained lips. Phee leaned back against the chair, its cushion enveloping her, and she crossed her arms, awaiting his reply. His mouth opened and closed like a fish; his brow furrowed as he stared at her.

“I’ve married a monster,” he said with a whisper.

“A monster?” she replied, outraged. “You hate peas, I was merely matching the topic!”

“Peas taste horrendous no matter the seasoning. Even smothered in butter they are inedible. But blueberries.” He stood and paced. “Blueberries are delightful. A handful off a blueberry bush on a hot day is a summer necessity. Blueberry muffins dripping with butter and blueberry pie with a dollop of cream are nearly heaven. How can you hate blueberries?”

Phee searched for the words only able to say, “Baked or stewed, even as a jam, you’re correct. But, raw? Off a bush?” She shook her head. “No, thank you. They’re too unique.”

Lord Everly stopped moving and stared.

“You can never be certain what you’ll get with a blueberry. Some are sweet while others are sour. Some are mushy, some are mealy, while others burst in your mouth unexpectedly. A mere handful of blueberries is such an uncertain snack. An apple is itself throughout. The same can be said for an orange, but blueberries.” She shook her head. “They’re unreliable.”

Lord Everly fell into his chair with a soft plop, his eyes searching her face. “Extraordinary,” he said.

“What?”

“You’re absolutely right, how you just described them. And yet, something I find delightful about the berry is something that leads to your hatred. It’s interesting, is all. You’re interesting.”

“You make it sound as if I’m an artifact to be studied,” Phee said, crossing her arms in front of her as she looked down at the table before them, her eyes flitting to every mark and ding along its top to avoid his studying gaze.

“No. You’re simply a human who is fascinating and unique. You see the world with a lens I don’t possess and it’s mesmerizing when I get a chance to peer through it with you.” The words were said softly, but the sincerity within them was powerful. Terrifyingly so.

“I should head to bed,” she said, looking at the mass of cards in her hand, then toward the table. “Where do I—”

Lord Everly grabbed her deck and returned to the cabinet, placing her stack on the right side of the shelf and setting his own deck on the left side. “So we know where we left off tomorrow,” he said with a wink.

“Right.” Standing, Phee looked at him. “Well, goodnight then.”

“I—” he said, his hand reaching out to her before pulling back. “I’ll go with you. I was rather unaware how tired I am myself until just now.” Giving her his arm, he led her from the library and up the marble staircase to the floor that housed their rooms.

Phee kept her eyes on the steps before her, uncertain why she felt such an odd niggle of unease that he was walking her to bed. He stopped outside the entrance to his room, turned and smiled at her, although the effect was forced, the dimple that appeared in his right cheek failing to make an appearance. Removing her arm from his, Phee stepped back, her hands gripping one another behind her back as she looked at him.

With a nod, Lord Everly executed a small bow. “Goodnight, Lady Everly. Sleep well,” he said, opening the door to his room and disappearing behind it. The wooden portal closed with a soft snick , his exit so unremarkable Phee was certain she imagined him being there at all.

Inside her own room, Phee allowed her mind to drift as her maid, Flora, helped her to undress before sitting her in front of a white ornate vanity to brush out her hair. Phee frowned as she ruminated on the evening with her new husband. Confusion at his somber mood change only further burrowed into her brain, replaying over and over as she analyzed what might have caused it. Surely nothing she had said could have provoked the true smile leaving his face, its faux counterpart sliding in to cover the modification.

When Flora left, the quiet of the room wrapped around her like a blanket, its surety a hug unlike any other. The comfortable ease of the evening with Lord Everly did little to dissolve the man’s uncertain moods, and Phee shook her head, dismayed that she had likely entered into a situation where she would have to stay on guard and never fully relax into herself. Even his soft words of reassurance were quickly erased by his wavering emotions, which did not bode well for the future. Not at all.

Taking soft steps to avoid detection, Phee approached the door that joined their rooms. Setting her hands gently against the wood, she leaned against it, pressing her ear to the portal as she silently waited for a sound, but it was only silence that greeted her. No deep voice echoing through the door, nor the sounds of one readying themselves for bed, and Phee leaned back, frowning at the thing. He claimed she was a lens through which he could see her viewpoint, but for her, he was a door, blocking off every discovery and only leaving a muffled sound if any.

“Goodnight, Lord Everly,” she said with a whisper. “Sleep well.”