Edward exhaled deeply, frowning as he noticed her red rimmed eyes and tired posture. She was clearly exhausted, but her grip on her own did not falter in the slightest as she turned around to face him, although her form did look almost nervous.
“I believe I asked you a question first,” he told her, as he forcefully shifted his eyes from the parchment paper beneath her hands.
Phoebe shifted slightly and looked up at him, her expression one of fear and vulnerability as she nodded slowly.
“Y-Yes. I’m afraid I was rather occupied, and I hadn’t realized how late it had gotten.” She admitted reluctantly.
“I could tell,” be noted dryly.
Edward had forgotten his earlier bout of worry and fear, as his mind was still fascinated by how focused she had been on her task.
She hasn’t even noticed the door breaking open or his presence until he was close enough to speak to her. He didn’t know whether to be concerned or impressed but he could safely say he felt both of those emotions flooding his chest.
“What is this?” he queried, looking down at the page again.
“Ah,” she quickly placed her hands over the it, barely managing to cover it completely seeing as her caricatures took up the entire page. “It’s nothing. Only a silly hobby of mine.”
Edward snorted and folded his arms. “It’s hardly nothing. I have eyes, Phoebe. You are remarkably talented. And it must mean more to you than you are letting on because you resigned yourself to your rooms for the whole day. Is that how you committed you are to your hobbies?”
“You are rather particular about your horse and the upkeep of your saddles. Are they not the same sort of devotion?” she queried weakly.
Edward stated down at her, unimpressed and disappointed until she could feel the weight of his disapproval and dropped her own gaze.
“No, duchess,” he said dryly. “I dare say those two are not the same things at all.”
She blushed and for some reason, it only made him much more anxious because his heart had yet to relax since he stormed into the room. He could see that she was fine, hale and hearty — perhaps only a tad exhausted — but still, it seemed as though his mind was still stuck in the possibility of his fears being reality.
She could truly have been unwell. When she had not he believed that she had been hurt. And it was not enough that she was not because he had not ever had to deal with such emotions before. It was stifling and he knew that he needed to calm down before he lost the rest of his senses but he couldn’t seem to gather his bearings.
Phoebe had made a grave mistake and it might cost her everything.
Ever so often, she would get absorbed by a commission from the newspapers and think of nothing but the feel of the pen in her hand, the parchment beneath her fingertips and the assignment she had been given. The time would get away from her rapidly but it did not matter much when she lived with her siblings because they were easy to convince that she needed some time alone.
She had failed to realize that her new household were less likely to simply leave her to her devices — especially if she disappearedfor the whole day. At dawn she had woken up to take a walk before the staff were up and about, in a bid to calm her mind before she began working.
Afterwards, she had returned to her room, settled at her desk and began to work, fully intending to take a break eventually in order to ease whatever concerns might have risen amongst the staff due to her sudden seclusion.
But she had forgotten that it was rather impossible for her to entertain other thoughts that were separate from the task at hand she had been given and before she realized what was happening, her husband was standing over her shoulder and the position of the sun told her the day had advanced well into the afternoon.
She hadn’t even heard him knock and she was scared that he would question her actions severely. She was not sure how he would feel about her working with Mr. Lambert, but she was not keen on finding out. The question never came, however and he seemed to buy into her weak excuse of the work being a mere hobby.
However, just as she began to think of how to get him to leave her be for a little bit, Phoebe noticed his face appeared slightly pale. Her lips parted to ask if he was all right and that was when she noticed his shaking hands.
There was something clearly wrong.
Slowly, she rose to her feet, and walked towards him, stopping when he took a step back cautiously, his eyes wide in shock. She stopped moving and they both stared at each other for a few seconds before he blinked and shook his head, dropping his hands by his side as he stood straighter.
“Sorry, did you say something?”
Wordlessly, Phoebe approached him and took hold of his hands, gently squeezing them.
“Are you all right?” she asked softly.
His hand tightened around hers and she inhaled sharply at the warmth spreading from his touch. She did not understand why she had decided to hold his hand, only that it seemed to be the only thing she could do to ease his discomfort. She hoped he did not feel bothered by it but if she were to trust in the way he inhaled sharply, his hands growing steady once more, perhaps she was able to grant him some ease after all.
“Yes. Yes I am. I was merely tired. And concerned for the well-being of my wife, seeing as she had decided to shut herself in her room and ignore the knocks of the servants, along with her need for sustenance.” He told her with a narrowed gaze.
Flustered, Phoebe tried to defend herself.