Kitabı oku: «Innocent in the Regency Ballroom», sayfa 5
Chapter Six
Her heart was lighter, now that she had faced her brother at last. But empty as well. Hector was furious, and she’d cut herself off from the only home she’d ever known. It would have happened eventually, she supposed. Just as it should have happened four years before. But she had been prepared then. Now, the sudden marriage and all that came with it made her feel more alone than she had been, even though she had a life’s companion to share it with.
And what a strange companion she had chosen. It had been much fun to watch him in action against her adversaries. And she hoped that her current feelings for him were not too apparent, for the afternoon’s appointments and the masterful way he had handled things had left her breathless and not quite herself. She had half a mind to throw herself upon him, in a display of affection that would be most inappropriate towards a man who was nearly a stranger to her. And she feared that, if she spoke, she was liable to ramble on and sound as foolish as a schoolroom miss.
Her husband was seated opposite her in the hired carriage with a faint smile on his face, showing no effects of the day’s changes. When she said nothing, he spoke. ‘We have done a good day’s work, I think. Your money is taken care of. Your things will be brought to the house tomorrow. I recommend that we send your manservant on his way, and attend to our supper, for we have missed tea, and I am feeling quite hungry. I can recommend several restaurants …’
Eating in public. She had always found it difficult to relax when in a crowd, and sitting down to a meal surrounded by strangers seemed to amplify those feelings. Suppose she were to order the wrong thing, use the wrong utensil when eating or break some other rule that would make her appear gauche to the duke or the people around them? If she took a simple meal in her rooms at the townhouse, she need have no worries of mistake. She would beg off, and save her husband the embarrassment of being seen with her. She said, ‘I am accustomed to eat at home of an evening.’
‘And I am not,’ he said, with finality. ‘I belong to several clubs—Boodle’s, White’s, Brooks’s—and frequent them most evenings when I am in town. Of course, I cannot very well take you there. No ladies.’ He stopped to consider his options.
So many clubs. It gave her a good idea where his wealth might have run to. And why he had needed so much of hers. ‘It is more economical to dine at home,’ she offered.
He raised an eyebrow and said, ‘I imagine it is on such nights as the servants are engaged. My kitchen is most fine. You will know that soon enough. But remember, I have released the staff for the evening. You may go back, if you wish, and explain to them that economy requires they return to work.’
She gave a small shake of her head.
‘I thought not. In the future, you may dine at home, as you wish. But do not be terribly surprised if I do not join you there, for I prefer society to peace and quiet. And tonight, we will dine out to celebrate the nuptials. That is only natural, is it not?’
She nodded hesitantly.
‘I thought you would agree.’ He smiled again, knowing that he was once more without opposition and gave directions to the driver.
On entering the restaurant, they were led by the head waiter to a prominent spot with the faintest murmur of ‘your Grace’. Penny was conscious of the eyes of the strangers around them, tracking them to their table.
Her husband’s head dipped in her direction. ‘They are wondering who you are.’
‘Oh, no.’ She could feel the blood draining from her face and a lightness in her head as the weight of all the eyes settled upon her.
‘My dear, you look quite faint.’ He seemed genuinely concerned. ‘Wine will restore you. And food and rest.’ He signalled the waiter. ‘Champagne, please. And a dinner fit for celebration. But nothing too heavy. ‘When his glass was filled, he raised it in toast to her. ‘To my bride.’
The waiter took in the faintest breath of surprise, as did a woman at a nearby table, who had overheard the remark.
‘Shh,’ Penny cautioned. ‘People are taking notice.’
‘Let them,’ Adam said, taking a sip. ‘While you packed, I arranged for an announcement in tomorrow’s Times. It is not as if it is to be a secret.’
‘I never thought …’
‘That you would tell anyone besides the bank that you had wed?’
‘That anyone would care,’ she said.
‘I have no idea what people might think of your marriage,’ he responded. ‘But if I marry, all of London will care.’
She took a gulp of her own wine. ‘That is most conceited of you, sir.’
‘But no less true.’
‘But there must be a better way to make the world aware than sitting in the middle of a public place and allowing the world to gawk at us,’ she whispered.
He smiled. ‘I am sorry. Have I done something to shame you, Penelope?’
‘Of course not. We barely know—’
He cut her off before she could finish the sentence. ‘Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. You are the Duke of Bellston. Why would I be embarrassed?’
‘Then I fail to understand why we should not be seen dining together, in a public place. It is not as if I do not wish my wife at my side.’
She was readying the argument that, of course, he would not wish to dine with her. He was a duke, and she was a nobody. And he was every bit as beautiful as she was plain. And if he meant to embarrass her by showing the world the fact …
And then she looked at the way he was smiling at her. It was a kind smile, not full of passion, but containing no malice. And she imagined what it would be like, if he had dropped her at the townhouse, and gone on his merry way. Perhaps he would mention casually to some man at a club that he had wed. And there would be a small announcement in the papers.
People would wonder. And then, someone would see her, and nod, and whisper to others that it was obvious why the duke chose to leave his wife alone. When the most attractive feature was a woman’s purse, you hardly need bring her along to enjoy the benefit.
Or, they could be seen in public for a time, and people might remark on the difference between them. But they would not think that the eventual separation of the two was a sign that he had packed her off to the country out of shame.
He watched as the knowledge came home to her. ‘People will talk, Penny. No matter what we do. But there are ways to see that they speak aloud, and then lose interest. It is far less annoying, I assure you, than the continual whispering of those who are afraid to give voice to their suspicions.’
The plates arrived, and he offered her a bite of lobster on the end of his fork. ‘Relax. Enjoy your dinner. And then we will go home.’
She took it obediently and chewed, numb with shock. Home. Together. With him. The thoughts that flitted across her mind were madness. After the rough start in Scotland, her new husband was proving to be almost too perfect. In the space of a few hours, he had gained for her everything she could have wished. And now, if he would only let her go home and seclude herself in that horrible pink room before she said something foolish … If he insisted on staring at her as he had been with those marvellous blue eyes, and feeding her from his own plate as though she were a baby bird, who could blame her if she forgot that the need for familiarity was a sham, and began to think that deeper emotions were engaged.
There was a very subdued commotion at the entrance to the room, and Adam looked up. ‘Aha. I knew news would travel quickly. But I had wondered how long it would take.’
A man strode rapidly toward them, weaving between the tables to where they sat. He noticed the space, set for two, and turned to the nearest empty table, seizing a chair and pulling it forward to them, seating himself between Penny and the duke. Then he looked at Adam and said, without preamble, ‘When did you mean to inform me? Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is to be at one’s club, enjoying a whisky and minding one’s own business, only to have the man holding the book demanding that I pay my wagers on the date of your marriage? Of course I insisted that it was nonsense, for there was no way that such a thing would have occurred without my knowledge.’
Adam laughed. ‘Ah, yes. I had forgotten the wagers.’ He looked sheepishly at Penny. ‘I stand to lose a fair sum of money on that as well. I had bet against myself marrying within the year.’
Gambling, again. And losing. Another confirmation of her suspicions. ‘You bet against yourself?’
He shrugged. ‘I needed the money, and thought it must be a sure thing. But when I found you, darling, I quite forgot—’
‘Darling?’ the man next to her snapped. ‘So it’s true, then? You ran off to Scotland to get a wife, and told me nothing?’
‘It did not occur to me until after,’ Adam answered. ‘Penny, may I present your brother-in-law, Lord William Felkirk. William, Penelope, my wife, the new duchess of Bellston.’
William stared at her, reached for his brother’s wine glass and drained it.
William was a younger version of her husband. Not so handsome, perhaps, but he had a pleasant face, which would have been even more pleasant had it not been frozen in shock by the sight of her. Penny attempted a smile and murmured, ‘How do you do?’
Will continued to stare at her in silence.
Adam smiled in her direction with enough warmth for both of them, and then looked back to his brother. ‘Manners, Will. Say hello to the girl.’
‘How do you do?’ Will said without emotion.
‘Penny is the heiress to a printer, here in London. We met when I was travelling.’
She could see the alarm in his eyes at the word printer, followed by a wariness. He examined her closely, and glanced from her to his brother. ‘You were not long in the north, Adam. The trip lasted less than a week. Your marriage was most unexpected.’
‘To us as well.’
He stared back at Penny, daring her to confirm the story. ‘My brother never spoke of you.’
Her gaze dropped to her plate. ‘We did not know each other for long before we married.’
‘How fortunate for you to find a duke when you chose to wed. You must be enjoying your new title.’ He had cut to the quick with no fuss.
‘Frankly, I do not give it much thought.’
‘Really.’ He did not believe her.
Adam took a sip of wine. ‘William, Penny’s feelings on the matter of her sudden elevation to duchess are none of your concern. Now, join us in our celebration, for I wish you to be as happy as I am.’ His voice held a veiled command.
Adam signalled for the waiter to bring another glass and plate, and they finished the meal in near silence, and William made no more attempts to question them.
Adam rubbed his temples and did his best to ignore the dull pain behind his eyes. It had been the longest meal of his life. First, he had needed to calm Penelope, who was clearly unaccustomed to the attention of the other diners. But he had done a fair job charming her back to good spirits. It had been going well, until Will had come and set things back on edge.
He’d had a good mind to tell his brother that the middle of a public dining room was no place to air the family laundry. If he could not manage to be a civil dinner companion, then he should take himself back to whatever foul cave he’d crawled from, and let them enjoy their food in peace.
When it was time to leave, William offered his carriage, and when they arrived at the townhouse, he followed them in, without invitation.
Adam should have refused him entrance, after his reprehensible behaviour in the restaurant. But if Will had anything to say on the subject of his brother’s marriage, it might as well be said now and be over with, when the servants were away.
They were barely over the threshold before Will said, ‘We must speak.’ He glanced toward the study, then to Adam, totally ignoring the other person in the room.
Penny was aware of the slight. How could she not be, for Will made no effort to be subtle? She said, with false cheer, ‘I will leave you two alone, then. Thank you for a most pleasant evening.’
Liar. But at least she was making an effort, which was more than he could say for his own family.
Penelope was barely clear of the room before William muttered, ‘I will send for the solicitors immediately and we will put an end to this farce before anyone else learns of it.’
‘The study, William,’ he snapped, all patience gone.
They walked down the corridor, and he gestured Will into the room, slamming the door behind them.
Will paced the floor, not bothering to look in his direction. ‘It has been only a few days, has it not? And most of that time, spent on the road. No one of importance has seen, I am sure. I will consult the lawyers, and begin the annulment proceedings. You will spend the night at your club, safely away from this woman.’
‘I will do no such thing. I have no intention of leaving this house, and there will be no more talk of annulments.’ Adam stalked past him, and threw himself into the chair behind the desk.
‘You’ve lain with her already, have you?’
‘That is none of your business, little brother.’
William nodded. ‘I thought not. It is not a true marriage, but you have too much pride to admit the mistake.’
‘This has nothing to do with pride.’
‘Neither does it have to do with a sudden affection.’
Adam laughed. ‘Affection? You expect me to marry for love, then?’
Will ceased his pacing and leaned over the desk, his fists planted on the wood. ‘I think it is reasonable that there be at least a fondness between the two people involved. And it is plain that none exists between the two of you. You sat there at dinner with a false smile, pretending nothing was wrong, and she could barely look up from her plate.’
‘We have an understanding.’
‘That is rich.’ Will snapped. ‘She married you for your title, and you married her for her money. We can all claim the same understanding, for the fact is perfectly obvious to everyone who cares to look.’
‘It is more complicated than that.’
‘Do you mean to enlighten me as to how?’
Adam thought of the condition he’d been in when he’d made the decision to marry. And the condition just before, when he’d meant to end his life. ‘No, I do not.
That is something between my wife and myself.’
‘Your wife.’ Will snorted.
Adams hands tightened on the arms of his chair until he was sure that his fingers must leave marks in the wood. ‘My wife, William. And I will thank you not to take that tone when referring to her. Despite what it may appear, I did not marry her for her money, any more than she sought to be a duchess. That we are both so blessed is a most fortunate occurrence, and I have no intention to annul. Lord knows, the estate needs the money she brings with her, and she has no objections to my using it.’
‘So you will tie yourself to a woman that you do not love, just to keep the estate going.’
Adam stared at him, hardly understanding. ‘Of course I would. If it meant that I could rebuild the house and protect the tenants until the next harvest time. Her money will mean the difference between success and failure this year.’
‘What are the tenants to you, Adam? It is not as though they are family. And the manor is only a house.’
‘It is my birthright,’ Adam said. ‘And I will do what is necessary to protect it. If it were you, would you not?’
William stared back at him, equally confused. ‘I thank God every day that your title did not come to me. I have no desire to possess your lands, Adam.’
‘But if it were to fall to you?’ he pressed.
‘Do not say that. For that would mean that you were dead. You are not ill, are you? Your line of questioning disturbs me.’
Adam waved his hand. ‘No, no, I am not ill. It is only a rhetorical question. Do not read so much into it.’
‘Then I will answer truthfully. No, I would not marry just for the sake of the title. Do not think you can marry for money to a woman you cannot bring yourself to bed, and then force me to be Bellston when you die without an heir. I would as soon see it all revert to the crown than become a slave to the land, as you are.’
Slavery? It was an honour. How could Will not understand? ‘Search your heart and answer again. For it is quite possible that the whole thing will come to you, at any rate.’
Will waved the suggestion away. ‘Not for long. If you mean to escape your responsibility with a hypothetical and untimely death, then two of us can play the game. I would rather die than inherit.’
Adam paused to thank God for the timely intervention of Penelope and her wild scheme. His death would have served no purpose if it had forced Will to take such action as he threatened. And he would not have wanted the heir he saw before him now. Will had always seemed so strong. Why had he never noticed that he was selfish as well?
Will continued. ‘I suggest again that you seek an annulment if you do not wish for a legitimate heir from this poor woman. It is not fair to her, nor to me, for you to play with our fates in such a way, so that you can buy slate for your roof.’
Adam tried one last time. ‘But if it falls to you …’
‘I will take whatever measures are necessary to see that it does not.’
Damn it to hell. Here was another thing that he would have to contend with. Until now, he had assumed that there would be no problem with the succession. He had thought no further than the immediate crisis, just as he had thought no further when attempting suicide.
He must learn to play a longer game if he wished to succeed.
He looked to his brother again. ‘I do not mean to abandon this life just yet, so you need not fear an inheritance. I had no idea that you felt so strongly about it.’
‘I do.’
‘Very well, then. No matter what may occur, you will not be the next duke. But neither do I intend to abandon my current plan just yet. The heir situation will sort itself out eventually, I suspect.’
‘Do you, now?’ His brother laughed. ‘If you think it can sort itself out without some intervention on your part, then you are as cloth-headed as I’ve come to suspect. You wife is waiting in your bed, Adam. Let the sorting begin.’
Chapter Seven
Penny tried to put the mess downstairs behind her as she climbed the stairs to her room. William Felkirk had made little effort to disguise his distaste for her and was no doubt pouring poison in his brother’s ears on the subject of marriage to upstart title hunters.
There was little she could do about it if Adam chose to listen. An acquaintance of several days and a trumped-up marriage were not equal to a bond of blood. She could only wait to see if he came to her room to explain that it had been a mistake, that he was terribly sorry, and that they would be undoing today’s work in the morning.
She looked at her bedchamber and sighed, nearly overcome with exhaustion. No matter the outcome, she needed a warm bed and a good night’s sleep. But the room in front of her was as cold and dark as it had been earlier in the day. If there was fuel available, she could manage to lay her own fire, but she could see by the light of her candle that the hearth and grate were empty. Not an ash remained.
She looked in trepidation at the connecting door to her husband’s room. If she could borrow some coal and a Lucifer from his fire, and perhaps a little water from the basin, she could manage until the servants came back in the morning.
She knocked once; when there was no answer she pushed the door open and entered.
The bed had been turned down and a fire laid, despite the servants’ day off. It was warm and cheerful, ready for occupation, and nothing like the room she had just left. There was a crystal bowl on the night table filled with red roses, and stray petals sprinkled the counterpane. Their fragrance scented the room.
Her portmanteau was nowhere to be seen, but her nightrail lay on the bed, spread out in welcome.
The door to the hall opened, and she looked back at her husband, leaning against the frame.
‘My room is not prepared,’ she said, to explain her presence.
He ran a hand through his hair in boyish embarrassment. ‘The servants assume …’
She nodded.
He shrugged. ‘You can hardly expect otherwise.’
‘And what are we to do to correct the assumption?’
He stared at her. ‘Why would we need to do that? That a man and a wife, newly married, might wish to share a bed is hardly cause for comment. But that a man and a woman, just wed, do not? That is most unusual. More gossip will arise from that than the other.’
She looked doubtful. ‘I wondered if that might not matter to you so much now you have spoken to your brother.’
‘Whatever do you mean?’
‘That perhaps, now that you are back in your own home, you might wish to call a halt to our marriage. It is not too late, I think, to have second thoughts in the matter. And I would not fault you for it.’
‘Because my brother does not approve?’ He made no attempt to hide the truth from her. Although it hurt to hear it, his honesty was admirable.
He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. ‘What business is this of Will’s? When he takes a wife, he will not wish me to trail along, giving offense and offering advice where none was requested. I recommend that you ignore Will as I intend to.’ He moved across the room to a chair, sat down and set to work removing his boots.
Very well, then. There had been no change in her status. But what was to happen now? Did he mean to change in front of her? She was torn between embarrassment and a growing curiosity. How far did he mean to take their marriage? They had discussed nothing like this on the road from Scotland.
Then he stood up and walked across the room in his stockinged feet, locked the door and dragged the heavy comforter from the bed across the room to his chair. ‘It shall not be the finest bed in London, but I have had worse.’ He gestured to the rose-strewn mattress on the other side of the room. ‘Be my guest.’
She sat on the edge of the bed and watched him as he divested himself of coat and waistcoat, untied his cravat and undid his cuffs. He sat down again, slouching into the chair, long legs stretched out before him, wrapped the comforter around his body, and offered her a sketch of a salute, before closing his eyes.
She blew out her candle, placed her spectacles on the night table beside the bed, removed her slippers and stretched out on top of the sheets, arms folded over her chest.
From across the room, her husband’s voice came as a low rumble. ‘Is that how you mean to sleep? It cannot be comfortable.’
‘For you either,’ she said.
‘But at least I am not fully dressed. Shall I call someone to help you out of your gown?’
‘I can manage the gown myself, for I am most limber and can reach the hooks. But that would leave the corset, and I fear the lacing is too much for me. If we do not wish the servants to gossip, then I think not.’
He sighed and got out of his chair. ‘I shall help you, then.’
‘That would be most improper.’
He laughed. ‘For better or worse, madam, I am your husband. It is the most proper thing in the world.’
She hesitated.
‘It will look much stranger to have the maid undo the laces tomorrow than to let me do it tonight. Here, slide to the edge of the bed, and turn your back to me.’
She sat up and crawled to where he could reach her, turning her back to him. She could feel his touch, businesslike, undoing the hooks of the bodice and pushing it open wide until it drooped down her shoulders. She tensed.
‘You needn’t worry, you know. I will not hurt you or damage the gown.’ He laughed softly. ‘I have some small experience with these things. In fact, I can do it with my eyes closed if that makes you feel more comfortable.’
It would be ludicrous to describe the sensations she was experiencing as comfort. It would have been comforting to have the efficient, easily ignored hands of a maid to do the work. She would have climbed into bed and not thought twice about it.
But a man was undressing her. And since he had closed his eyes, it seemed he needed to work more slowly to do the job. He had placed his hand on her shoulders and squeezed the muscles there in his large palms before sliding slowly over the bare skin of her upper back and down the length of the corset to the knot at the bottom. He reached out to span her waist, and she drew a sharp breath as he undid the tie of her petticoat and pushed it out of the way. Then he leaned her forward slightly, and his fingers returned to the corset to work the knot free.
She could feel it loosen, and tried to assure him that she could manage the rest herself, but no breath would come to form the words.
He was moving slowly upwards, fingers beneath the corset, pulling the string free of the eyelets, one set at a time. She could feel the warmth of his hands through the fabric of her chemise, working their way up her body until the corset was completely open.
There was a pause that seemed like for ever as his hands rested on her body, only the thin cotton between his touch and her skin. And then he moved and the corset slipped free. She folded her arms tight to her chest, trying to maintain some modesty before it fell away to leave her nearly bare.
‘Can you manage the rest?’ His voice was annoyingly clear and untroubled.
She swallowed. ‘I think so. Yes.’
‘Very well, then. Goodnight, Penelope.’
And she heard him returning to his chair.
She squinted at him from across the room, until she was reasonably sure that his eyes were closed and he would see nothing. She hurried to remove her clothing, throwing it all to the floor and diving into her nightgown and under the sheets, safely out of sight.
She settled back on to the bed, pulling the linens up over her and waiting for sleep that did not come. The fire was dying, and the chill was seeping into the corners, though her skin still tingled with the heat from his touch.
It probably meant nothing to him. He was familiar with women’s garments and the removing of them. He had done what he had done many times before, albeit with different results.
Her unwilling mind flashed to what it would have been like, if she was anyone other than who she was. His hands would be as slow and gentle as they had been while undoing her dress. Only, when the laces of the stays were undone, he would not stop touching her. Instead, he would lean forwards, and his lips would come down upon her skin.
She stared at the canopy of the bed, eyes wide, unable to stop the pictures playing in her mind and the phantom feeling of his hands and his mouth. Her body gave an uncontrollable shudder in response.
Across the room from her, her husband stirred in his chair, and rose, moving through the darkness towards her.
Without warning, the comforter dropped upon her body, and his hands smoothed it over her, tucking it close about her. Warmth flooded her, the warmth of his own body, left in the quilt. She sighed happily.
He returned to his chair, stretched out and slept.
