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Innocent in the Regency Ballroom: Miss Winthorpe's Elopement / Dangerous Lord, Innocent Governess
Christine Merrill


Miss Winthorpe’s Elopement Lady Penelope Winthorpe is looking for a compliant husband to gain access to her inheritance. The drunken Adam Felkirk seems perfectly biddable–but she’s in for a surprise… Once sobered up, the arrogant, gorgeous Duke of Bellston is determined to awaken his bluestocking bride!Dangerous Lord, Innocent GovernessDaphne Collingham is intrigued by the scandalous goings on at the home of Lord Timothy Colton and decides to disguise herself as a governess to uncover the truth! What Daphne hasn’t bargained on is how the brooding lord will make her feel under his dark gaze…












About the Author


CHRISTINE MERRILL lives on a farm in Wisconsin, USA, with her husband, two sons and too many pets—all of whom would like her to get off the computer so they can check their e-mail. She has worked by turns in theatre costuming, where she was paid to play with period ballgowns, and as a librarian, where she spent the day surrounded by books. Writing historical romance combines her love of good stories and fancy dress with her ability to stare out of the window and make stuff up.




In The Regency Ballroom Collection


Scandal in the Regency Ballroom April 2013

Innocent in the Regency Ballroom May 2013

Wicked in the Regency Ballroom June 2013

Cinderella in the Regency Ballroom July 2013

Rogue in the Regency Ballroom August 2013

Debutante in the Regency Ballroom September 2013

Rumours in the Regency Ballroom October 2013

Scoundrel in the Regency Ballroom November 2013

Mistress in the Regency Ballroom December 2013

Courtship in the Regency Ballroom January 2014

Rake in the Regency Ballroom February 2014

Secrets in the Regency Ballroom March 2014




Innocent

in the

Regency Ballroom

Miss Winthorpe’s Elopement

Dangerous Lord, Innocent Governess

Christine Merrill







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)



Miss Winthorpe’s Elopement




Author Note:


I can’t point to any one place or idea that inspired me to write the story of Penny and Adam. But I started on a day when I really just wanted to sit by myself and read. That is probably why I have a book-loving heroine. There is nothing quite like the feeling of sitting down with a good book, although I can’t seem to read as many as I buy. Penny’s overstocked library is definitely inspired by my own.

I don’t normally use pictures as inspiration, but the little china figurine in Penny’s sitting room really exists. I don’t own anything like it, but I wanted something that would remind me of long afternoons I spent in an aunt’s living room, surrounded by ‘breakables’. I found just the thing, searching the internet: a figurine so fussy that it seemed the polar opposite of serious scholarship.

I hope you enjoy Miss Winthorpe’s Elopement as much as I did. Come back soon, to discover what happens to Adam’s friend Tim.


To Sean:

For doing his homework on the

Greek classics. Without you, honey,

I’d have to do all my own research.




Chapter One


In the quiet of the library, Penelope Winthorpe heard the front doorbell ring, and set her book carefully aside, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. She smoothed her sensible, bombazine skirt. Then she stood and strolled toward the front hall.

There was no reason to rush since hurrying would not change the results of the trip. Her brother had accused her of being too prone to impulsive actions. Seeing her hare down the hall every time the front door opened would reinforce his view that too much education and too much solitude were affecting her nerves.

But her package was two days late, and it was difficult to contain her anticipation. She rose eagerly with every knock at the door, hoping each one to be the delivery she’d been expecting.

In her mind, she was already holding the package, hearing the rustle of crisp, brown paper, running her fingers along the string that held it in place. She would cut the twine with the scissors on the hall table, and the book would be in her hands at last. She imagined she could smell the fresh ink and the paper, caress the leather of the binding, and feel the gold-embossed title under her fingertips.

And then, the best part: she would take it back to the library and cut the pages open, spread them carefully, turning each one and catching glimpses of words without really reading, not wanting to spoil the surprise, even though she knew the story, almost by heart.

At last, she would ring for tea, settle into her favourite chair by the fire, and begin to read.

It would be heaven.

When she got to the hall, her brother was sorting through a stack of letters. The post had come, but there was no sign of a package from the book seller.

‘Hector, did a delivery arrive for me? I had expected it by now, but I thought perhaps it might come with the post.’

‘Another book?’ He sighed.

‘Yes. The latest printing of The Odyssey.’

Her brother waved a dismissive hand. ‘It came yesterday. I sent it back to the shop.’

‘You did what?’ She stared at him, incredulous.

‘Sent it back. You already have it. I did not deem it necessary.’

‘I have translations,’ she corrected. ‘This was in the original Greek.’

‘All the more reason to send it back. I dare say the translations will be much easier for you to read.’

She took a deep breath and tried counting to ten before speaking, to control her rash tongue. She made it almost to five before blurting, ‘I do not expect to have trouble with the Greek. I read it fluently. As a matter of fact, I am planning a translation of my own. And, since I cannot translate words that are already in English, the new book will most certainly be necessary.’

Hector was looking at her as though she had sprouted a second head. ‘There are many adequate translations of Homer already available.’

‘But none by a woman,’ she responded. ‘I suspect that there are insights and subtleties I might bring to the material that will be substantially different than those already available.’

‘Inferior, perhaps,’ countered her brother. ‘The world is not clamouring for your opinion, Penny, in case you haven’t noticed.’

For a moment, the truth of that statement weighed heavy on her, but she shook it off. ‘Perhaps it is because they have not yet seen what I can accomplish. I will not know until I have tried. And for that, I will need the book I ordered. Which only cost a few pounds.’

‘But think of the time you would spend wasted in reading.’ Hector always considered such time wasted. She remembered his discomfort in the schoolroom, and his desire to escape from it as soon as possible, when their father was ready to leave the business in his hands. That a printer had such a low opinion of books never ceased to amaze her.

‘For some of us, Hector, reading is not a waste of time, but one of life’s great pleasures.’

‘Life is not meant to be spent in pleasure, Penelope. I am sure, if you put your mind to it, that you can find a better way to use your time.’ He looked her up and down. ‘While you needn’t be so frivolous as some young girls who are hellbent on matrimony, you could devote your time to higher pursuits. Helping with the poor, or the sick, perhaps.’

Penelope gnashed her teeth and set to counting. It was not that she had a distaste for charity work. It was certainly necessary. But it only showed how awkward she was around people, both rich and poor. And it served as a continual reminder to all that she was properly on the shelf, with no hope of a husband or children of her own to tend to. It felt like giving up.

Although, perhaps it was time.

And yet, she reminded herself, if she meant to give up, she could do it just as successfully at home, in front of the fire, alone except for her Homer.

This time, she made it to eight before speaking. ‘It is not as though I do not wish to contribute to society,’ she argued. ‘But I think that what I can do for the scholarly community is just as valuable as what I might accomplish tending the ill. And I do make regular donations to the church. The help that does not come by my hand can come from my purse instead. There have been no complaints.’

Her brother glared in disapproval. ‘I believe there are complaints, Penelope, although you may think that it is possible to ignore them, since they come from me. But Father has left me in charge of you and your inheritance, and so you must listen to them.’

‘Until such time as I marry,’ she added.

He sighed. ‘We both know the unlikelihood of that, Penny. I think it is time that we accept it.’

We meant her, she supposed.

‘It is one thing to be a bluestocking for a time. But I had hoped that you would have put such nonsense behind you by now. I do not expect you to spend your whole day at the dressmakers, or in idle gossip. But to spend no time at all on your appearance and to fill your head with opinions? And now, Greek?’ He shook his own head sadly. ‘Someone must put a stop to this nonsense, if you will not. No more books, Penny. At least not until you can prove to me that you are ready to grow up and accept some responsibility.’

‘No books?’ She felt the air leaving the room. She supposed it was as some girls might feel if their strict older brothers had said, ‘No gowns. No parties. No friends.’ To be denied her books was to be left companionless and unprotected in a hostile world. ‘You cannot speak to me thus.’

‘I believe I can.’

‘Father would never have allowed it.’

‘Father expected you to have started a family by now. That is why he tied your inheritance to the condition of your marriage. You have not yet found a husband. And so control of you and your money belongs to me. I will not see you fritter away the fortune that Father left to you on paper and ink.’

‘A few books are hardly likely to fritter away a fortune, Hector.’

‘Only a few?’ He pointed to the stack on the table next to the door. ‘Here are “a few books”, Penny. But there are more in the dining room, and the morning room and the parlour. And your room as well, I dare say. The library is full to overflowing.

‘As it was when Father was alive, Hector. He was a man of letters. What I have added to the collection hardly amounts—’

‘What you have added to the collection is hardly necessary. There are books enough to last a lifetime already in your possession.’

Perhaps if she read as slowly as her brother did … But she held her tongue and began to count again.

‘And now you are buying books that you already own. It must stop, Penny. It really must. If we are to share this house in peace, I will have no more of it.’

She lost count and her temper failed her. ‘Then I do not wish to live with you a moment longer.’

‘I fail to see what choice you have.’

‘I will marry. Someone more agreeable than you. He will be sensible and understanding, and will not begrudge me a few pounds a month for my studies.’

Hector was looking at her with pity again, but his tone was sarcastic. ‘And where will you find such a paragon, dear sister? Have you forgotten the disaster of your come-out Season? Even knowing of the substantial fortune attached to it, once you opened your mouth, no one would have you. None of them was good enough for you. You are too opinionated by half. Men want a woman who will follow where they lead, not one who questions her husband’s wisdom and ignores the house and the servants because she is too busy reading.’

It had been four years, and the sting of embarrassment still rose to the surface at the mention of the utter failure that had been her Season. ‘But surely there is a man who wishes an intelligent wife. Someone with whom he can converse.’

Hector sniffed in disapproval. ‘At such time as you find him, you are welcome to marry. But I do not see you in pursuit of such a man, nor is he in pursuit of you. Since you show no inclination to leave your desk, unless he comes stumbling into the house by mistake, it is unlikely he will find you. And thus, I am left to make your decisions for you.

‘I will not push you into society, for we both know that would be hopeless. But neither will I encourage you to further education, since what you have gathered so far has caused you nothing but trouble. Good day, sister. I suggest you find something to occupy your hands, and you will see no need to busy your mind.’ And he went back to reading his mail.

She was dismissed. One, two, three … She retreated to the stairs before she could say something that would further solidify her brother’s opinions.

He was right in one thing, at least. He was entitled to make monetary decisions for her, until she could find another man to take the responsibility from him.

Not that she needed any man to do so. She was quite smart enough on her own. Smarter, she suspected, than her brother was. His hand with the family business showed none of the mastery that her father had had.

Her father loved the books he printed and bound, loved everything about the papers, the inks, and the bindings. He turned the printing of even the simplest invitation or calling card into a statement of art. And to her father, a finished volume was a masterwork.

Four, five, six … To her brother, it would never be more than profit and loss. And so, there was more loss than profit. Given a lifetime, Penny expected to see her own part in the inheritance disappear, pound by pound, to cover the shortages that would occur from his mismanagement.

Of course, it was her mention of the fact at dinner the evening before that had caused her brother’s sudden interest in bringing her to heel.

Seven, eight, nine … It was unbearable. She could not live out the rest of her life under Hector’s thumb, sneaking books into the house on the sly and hoping that he did not notice. To live by his rules would be impossible.

Ten.

Which left her one choice in the matter: she must marry. Even the thought of her brother’s edict and the lack of books made her throat tighten in panic.

She must marry quickly.

She walked to the corner of the room and tugged the bell pull three sharp times, then turned to her wardrobe for a valise, tossing in travelling clothes from the collection of half-mourning that she had never quite managed to leave behind, although her father had been gone for two years.

In a few moments, there was a discreet knock upon the door.

‘Come in, Jem.’

The senior footman looked uncomfortable, as he always did when summoned to her rooms. He had often expressed a wish that she would find a ladies’ maid, or some other confidant. She had reminded him that she would do so at such time as she needed her hair dressed or a ribbon ironed. But if she needed wise counsel, she would always call upon him.

‘Miss?’ He stood uneasily at the door, sensing a change in the air.

‘I need you to hire a carriage and prepare for travel.’

‘You are going out, miss?’

She gave him a fish eye. ‘I would not need a carriage, else.’

‘Are we going to the book seller’s, miss?’ He had overheard the conversation in the hall, she suspected. And balked at doing something in direct opposition to her brother’s wishes.

‘No, Jem. I am not permitted to do so.’

He sagged with relief.

‘So I mean to limit myself to something my brother cannot possibly object to, since he has given me permission. He wishes me to be behave as other young ladies do.’

‘Very good, Miss Penny.’

‘And so we are going to go and find me a husband.’

‘Lost with all hands …’ Adam Felkirk, Seventh Duke of Bellston, stared at the paper in front of him and watched it shake with the trembling of his hands. He tried to remind himself that the loss of almost one hundred lives far outweighed the loss of the cargo. Had the wives and families of the ship’s crew been in some way prepared for the possibility of this tragedy? Perhaps. But he had certainly been foolishly unready for the fact that his investment was a risky one.

A shipment of tobacco from the Americas had seemed like a sensible plan when he had put down the money for it. The spring lambing had not gone well, and his tenants’ crops were not likely to thrive in the dry weather they had been having. But tobacco was almost guaranteed to bring in more money. It was a valuable commodity, if one could pay to have it brought to England. He could sell it for a healthy profit, and the money would tide him through this year and the next.

And now, the ship was sunk, and he was ruined.

He could not help but feel that it was his own fault. God was punishing him for the mistakes of the last year, and punishing those around him as well. The burns on his brother’s arm were continual memories of his faithless actions and the fire he had caused by them.

Then summer had come and the crops had failed, and he was left with the decision to waive the annual rents or throw his tenants out into the street for non-payment. When they were already hungry, what good did it do to anyone to leave them homeless as well?

And now, one hundred innocent lives were lost because he had chosen what he thought was a sensible investment.

He must face facts and tell his brother that there was nothing left. Nothing at all of what their father had left them. The house was mortgaged to the rooftop and in need of repair. There would be no income this year, and he’d gambled what was left in the bank and lost all in a risky investment.

He was out of ideas, out of money, and afraid to take another step forwards, lest it bring disaster to some unsuspecting soul that might take his side.

He ordered another whiskey. If his calculations were correct, he had enough left in his purse to get stinking drunk. And not another penny, or a way to get one for at least a year. The innkeeper might allow him credit for the room, assuming by the cut of his coat that he was good for the debt. But soon the bill would come due, and he would have to stack it with the rest, unable to pay it.

Other than his father’s watch, and the signet on the fob, he had only one thing of value. The insurance on his miserable life.

His hand stopped shaking as the inevitable solution occurred to him. He was an utter failure as a duke, and a man. He had brought shame and ruin to his family. He had betrayed a friend, and been well punished for it. The gentlemanly thing to do would be to write a letter of apology and blow his brains out. Let his brother, William, have the coronet. Perhaps he could do better with it.

Of course, it would leave Will with all the debts and the additional expense of burying Adam. And the cleaning of the study from the final mess he’d made with his suicide.

But what if the present duke should die by accident, while travelling on business? Then his brother would be left with the title and a tidy sum that might cover the debts until he could find a better source of income.

Adam thought again how unjust it was that the better brain of the family had found its way into the younger son. Will had inherited wisdom, forethought and an even temper. But all the stubborn impulsiveness and pigheaded unwillingness to take advice was lodged in his own thick skull.

And Will, God love him, had not an envious or covetous bone in his body. He worshipped his older brother, although heaven knew why. He was content to see Adam make as big a mess as possible of the whole thing, never offering a word of criticism.

But no more. His brother would make a fine duke. Let Will step up and do his part to keep the estate solvent, for Adam was more than sick of trying.

But it was up to Adam to step out of the way and allow his William to come forward and take his place.

Adam set down the newspaper. He was resolved. A simple accident would solve many problems, if he had the nerve to follow through. But how best to go about it?

He ordered another whisky. As he drank, he felt the glow in his head fogging rational thought, and numbing the pain of the failure. And realised he was well on the way to the first step in his plan. Raise enough Dutch courage to do the deed, and create the level of befuddlement in his body to convince anyone that cared to ask that this was an unfortunate accident, and not a deliberate act. He finished his drink and ordered another, staying the hand of the barman. ‘Leave the bottle.’

The duke could hear the faint rumble of the coaches entering and leaving the busy courtyard. He imagined the slippery cobbles under his expensive boots, and how easy it might be to fall. And the great horses with their heavy hooves, and even heavier carriage wheels …

It would not be a pleasant death. But he doubted that any death was pleasant, when it came down to the fact. This would at least be timely, and easy enough to arrange. He poured himself another stiff whisky. He might be thought drunken and careless. But many knew him to be that already. At least they would not think him a suicidal coward.

Very well, then.

He took one final drink. Stood and felt the world tipping under his feet. Very good, indeed. He doubted he could make too many steps. He dropped the last of his coin on the table, turned to the tavern keeper and offered an unsteady bow. ‘Good evening to you, sir.’

And goodbye.

He worked his way toward the door, bumping several patrons along the way and apologising profusely, before he made it through the open door of the inn.

He could hear a carriage approaching, and deliberately looked in the opposite direction, into the sun. Now he was blind, as well as drunk. All the better, for his nerve could not fail if he could not see what was coming.

The sound was getting louder and louder and he waited until he could feel the faint trembling in the ground that told him the coach was near.

Then he started forward, ignoring the calls of the coachmen.

‘Here, sir. Watch where you are going.’

‘I say, look out!’

‘Oh, dear God!’

And his foot slipped from under him, sending him face down in front of the approaching horses.




Chapter Two


Penelope felt the steady rocking of the carriage, but the rhythm did nothing to lull the sense of dread growing in her. They had been travelling north at a steady pace toward Scotland, stopping at inns and taverns to dine or pass the night. And yet she was no nearer to her goal than when she had been sitting in front of the fire at home.

Jem’s misgivings had eased only slightly, once he realised that he was not expected to be the groom. ‘You cannot hire a husband as you would hire a coach, Miss Penny.’

‘How hard can it be?’ Penny announced, with an optimism that she hoped would carry her through the trip. ‘I think disappointments in the past were the fault of expectations on the part of myself and the gentlemen involved. I wished a soulmate and they wished a biddable female. I shall never be biddable, and the fact was emphasised by the surrounding crowd of prettier, more agreeable young ladies. After the lack of success in London, I am willing to accept that there will not be a soulmate in the offing.’

The footman stared at her, as if to say it was no concern of his, one way or the other.

She continued. ‘However, if I mean to hire a man to do a job of work? Times are hard, Jem. As we go further north, there will be many men seeking employment. I will find one and make my offer.’

Jem could hold his tongue no longer. ‘I hardly think that marriage should be considered a chore, miss.’

‘My brother assures me often enough that marriage to me is likely to be such. And that is just how I mean to phrase it to any worthy gentleman I might find. It will be the simplest of jobs, really. He has but to sign some papers, and spend a few weeks in my presence to pacify my brother. I will pay him amply for his time. And I will require nothing in the way of marital obligations. Not sobriety, or fidelity, or drastic change in lifestyle. He can do just as he pleases, as long as he is willing to marry.’

‘A man is not likely to be so easily managed as that, miss.’ His tone was warning, but the meaning was lost on her.

‘I fail to see why not. It is doubtful that he will have any designs upon my person. Look at me, Jem, and tell me honestly that you expect me to be fighting off the forced affections of some man, if he has freedom and enough money for any woman he wishes.’

The footman looked doubtful.

‘But I have brought you along to protect my honour, should my surmise be incorrect,’ she assured him.

The elderly footman was not mollified. ‘But when you marry, the money will no longer be in your control. It will belong to your husband.’ Jem gestured to fill the empty air with scenarios, all of which foretold doom.

‘I have no control of the money now,’ Penny reminded him. ‘If there is a chance that I can find a husband who is less resolute than my brother has become, then it is well worth the risk. I will need to act fast, and think faster. But I dare say I will find a way to take the reins of the relationship before my intended knows what I am about.’

He was not convinced. ‘And if the choice proves disastrous?’

‘We shall cross that bridge when we come to it.’ She glanced out the window at the change in scenery. ‘Will we be stopping soon? I fear we are getting near to Scotland, and I had hoped to find someone by now.’

Jem signalled the driver to stop at the next inn, and Penny crossed her fingers. ‘It will help if I can find a man who is slow of wit and amiable in nature. If he is given to drink? All the better. Then I shall allow him his fill of it, and he will be too content to bother with me.’

Jem looked disapproving. ‘You mean to keep the poor man drunk so that you may do as you will.’

She sniffed. ‘I mean to offer him the opportunity to drink. It is hardly my fault if he is unable to resist.’

Jem rolled his eyes.

The carriage was slowing, and when she looked out the window, she could see that they were approaching an inn. She leaned back against her seat and offered a silent prayer that this stop would be the one where she met with success. The other places she had tried were either empty of custom or filled with the sort of rugged brawlers who looked no more willing to allow her freedom than her brother was. Her plan was a wild one, of course. But there were many miles to travel, and she only needed to find one likely candidate for it to prove successful.

And surely there was one man, between London and Gretna, who was in as desperate a state as she. She had but to find him.

Suddenly, the carriage jerked to a stop, and rattled and shook as the horses reared in front of it. She reached out and caught the leather strap at her side, clinging to it to keep her seat. The driver was swearing as he fought to control the beasts and shouting to someone in front of them as things began to settle to something akin to normal. She shot a worried look at Jem in the seat across from her.

He held up a warning hand, indicating that she keep her place, and opened the door, stepping out of the carriage and out of sight to check on the disturbance.

When he did not return, she could not resist, and left the carriage to see for herself.

They had stopped before the place she had expected, several yards short of the inn. But it was easy to understand the reason. There was a body, sprawled face down in the muck at the feet of the horses, which were still shying nervously. The driver held them steady, as Jem bent to examine the unconscious man in the road.

He appeared to be a gentleman, from what little she could see. The back of his coat was well cut, and stretched to cover broad shoulders. Although the buff of the breeches was stained with dirt from the road, she was sure that they had been new and clean earlier in the day.

Jem reached a hand to the man’s shoulder and shook him gently, then with more force. When there was no response, he rolled the inert figure on to his back.

The dark hair was mussed, but stylish, the face clean shaven, and the long slender fingers of his hands showed none of the marks of hard work. Not a labourer or common ruffian. A gentleman, most certainly. She supposed it was too much to hope that he was a scholar. More likely a rake, so given over to dissolution that, left to his own devices, he was likely to drink himself to death before they reached the border.

She smiled. ‘He is almost too perfect. Put him into the coach at once, Jem.’

Her servant looked at her as though she’d gone mad.

She shrugged. ‘I was trusting to fortune to make my decision for me. I hoped that she would throw a man in my path, and she has done just that. You must admit, it is very hard to doubt the symbolic nature of this meeting.’

Jem stared down at the man, and nudged his shoulder. ‘Here, sir. Wake up.’

His eyes opened, and she could not help but notice the heavy fringe of lashes that hid the startlingly blue irises. The colour was returning to the high-boned, pale cheeks. He looked up into the blinding sun, and released a sigh. ‘There was no pain. I had thought …’ Then the man looked past Jem, and smiled up at her. ‘Are you an angel?’

She snorted. ‘Are you foxed?’

‘It depends,’ he muttered. ‘If I am alive, then I am foxed. But if I am dead? Then I am euphoric. And you—’ he pointed a long white finger ‘—are an angel.’

‘Either way, I doubt you should lie here in the road, sir. Would you care to join me in my carriage? I am on a journey.’

‘To heaven.’ He smiled.

She thought of Gretna Green, which might be quite lovely, but fell far short of Elysium. ‘We are all journeying towards heaven, are we not? But some of us are closer than others.’

He nodded, and struggled to his feet. ‘Then I must stay close to you if the Lord has sent you to be my guide.’

Jem tossed the man a handkerchief, and he stared at it in confusion. Finally, the servant took it back, wiped the man’s face and hands and brushed off his coat and breeches. He turned the man’s head to get his attention and said slowly, ‘You are drunk, sir. And you have fallen in a coach yard. Are you alone? Or are there friends to aid you in your predicament?’

The man laughed. ‘I doubt any of my friends could help me find my way to heaven, for they have chosen a much darker path.’ He gestured around him. ‘None of them is here, in any case. I am very much alone.’

Jem looked disgusted. ‘We cannot just leave you here. You might wander into the road again, if there is no one to stop you. And you seem harmless enough. Do you promise, if we take you along with us, not to bother the young mistress?’

‘Take liberties with such a divine creature?’ He cocked his head to the side. ‘I would not think of it, sir, on my immortal soul, and my honour as a gentleman.’

Jem threw his hands in the air and stared at Penelope. ‘If you mean to have him, miss, I will not stop you. He appears to be a drunken idiot, but not particularly dangerous.’

The man nodded in enthusiastic agreement.

‘Your brother will have my head if I’m wrong, of course.’

‘My brother will not hear of it. He will not take you back, Jem, once he realises that you have helped me. You had best stay with me and hope for a favourable outcome. If we succeed, I will reward you well for your part in this.’

Jem helped her and the man back into the body of the coach, climbed in and shut the doors behind him. They set off again, and the man across from her looked surprised by the movement, before settling back into the squabs.

She smiled at him. ‘I don’t believe I asked your name, sir.’

‘I don’t believe you did.’ He grinned at her. ‘Adam Felkirk. And what am I to call you?

‘Penelope Winthorpe.’

‘I am not dead, then?’ He seemed vaguely disappointed.

‘No. Are you in some sort of trouble?’

He frowned. ‘I most certainly am. Or will be, if I wake sober in the morning.’ He smiled again. ‘But for now, I am numb and free from care.’

‘Suppose I could promise you enough brandy that you need never to be sober again?’

He grinned. ‘At the moment, it is a most attractive proposition.’

‘Brandy, Jem. I know you have some. Give it to Mr Felkirk.’

Jem looked horrified that his mistress would force him to acknowledge the flask in his pocket, and even worse, that she would require him to part with it. But he gave it over to the man in the seat next to him.

Felkirk nodded his thanks. ‘If she is an angel, then you, sir, are a saint.’ He raised the flask in salute and drank.

She examined him. He had an insubstantial quality. Harmless and friendly. She had feared that Jem spoke the truth when he had said that a real man might be more difficult to manage than the one she had imagined for her purpose. But Adam Felkirk seemed easy enough.

‘Thank you for your kind words, Mr Felkirk. And if you wish more brandy, then do not hesitate to inform me.’

He smiled and drank again, then offered the flask to her.

She took it and considered it for a moment, before deciding that drink would not help her gain the courage to speak. ‘But that is not all.’ She tried a smile that was welcoming and friendly, since seduction seemed inappropriate for her purpose. ‘You could have fine clothes as well. And a pretty mistress. Money always in your pocket, and a chance to do just as you please, in all things, at all times.’

He grinned at her, and she was taken aback by the whiteness of his smile. ‘You truly are an angel, darling. And leading me to a heaven most suited for a man of my tastes. I had imagined something more pious.’ He pulled a face. ‘Downy clouds, flowing robes. Harps and whatnot. But heaven, as you describe it, sounds more like a fine evening in London.’

‘If that is what you wish, you may have it. Whenever you want. I can relieve you of all cares. But first, you must do one thing for me.’ She handed the flask back to him again.

He took it and drank deeply. ‘As I suspected—it was far too pleasant to be heaven. And you are not an angel, but a demon, come for my soul.’ He laughed. ‘But I fear the devil might have that already, so what can I do?’

‘Nothing so dire.’ She smiled again, and told him her plan.

It was not at all clear that the truth was reaching him. He was smiling back at her, and nodding at the appropriate times. But with each sip of brandy, his eyes lost a little of their glitter. And, as often as not, he looked out the window rather than at her.

When she reached the word marriage, his eyes focused for a moment, and he opened his mouth. But it was as though he’d forgotten what it was he meant to say. He looked absently at her, then shrugged and took another drink, and his smile returned.

The carriage pulled to a stop, and Jem hopped down to open the door, announcing that they had arrived at Gretna Green. She stared at the man across from her, ‘Do you agree to my terms, Mr Felkirk?’

‘Call me Adam, my dear.’ He was staring at her with increased intensity, and for a moment she feared that he meant a closer relationship than she intended. And then he said, ‘I am sorry, but I seem to have forgotten your name. Oh, well. No matter. Why are we stopping?’

‘We are in Gretna Green.’

‘There was something you wanted me to do, wasn’t there?’

‘Sign a licence?’ she prompted.

‘Of course! Let us do that, then. And then we shall have some more brandy.’ He seemed to think it was all jolly fun, and reached for the door handle, nearly losing his balance as Jem opened it in front of him. The servant caught his elbow and helped him down out of the coach, before reaching a hand up to help Penny.

When they were on the ground together, Adam offered his arm to her. She took it, and found herself leading him, steadying him, more than he ever could her. But he went along, docile as a lamb.

She led him to the blacksmith, and listened as Jem explained to the man what was required.

‘Well, git on wi’ it, then. I have horses ta shoe.’ He looked critically at Penny. ‘Da ya mean ta ha’ him?’

‘I do,’ she said formally, as though it mattered.

‘Yer sure? He’s a drunkard. They cause no end a trouble.’

‘I wish to marry him, all the same.’

‘And you, sir. Will ya ha’ the lady?’

‘Marriage?’ Adam grinned. ‘Oh, I say. That is a lark, isn’t it?’ He looked down at her. ‘I cannot remember quite why, but I must have intended it, or I wouldn’t be in Scotland. Very well. Let us be married.’

‘Done. Yer married. Na off with you. I ha’ work ta do.’ He turned back to his horses.

‘That is all?’ Penny asked in surprise. ‘Is there a paper to be signed? Something that will prove what we have done?’

‘If ya wanted a licence, ya coulda staid on yer own side o’ the border, lass.’

‘But I must have something to show to my brother, and the solicitors of course. Can you not provide for us, sir?’

‘I canna write, so there is verra little I ca’ do for ya, less ya need the carriage mended, or the horse shoed.’

‘I will write it myself, then. Jem, run back to the carriage and find me some paper, and a pen and ink.’

The smith was looking at her as if she were daft, and Adam laughed, patted the man on the back and whispered something in his ear, offering him a drink from the brandy flask, which the Scot refused.

Penny stared down at the paper before her. What did she need to record? A marriage had taken place. The participants. The location. The date.

There was faint hammering in the background and the hiss of hot metal as it hit the water.

Their names, of course. She spelled Felkirk as she expected it to be, hoping that she was not showing her ignorance of her new husband by the misspelling of her new surname.

She glanced down at the paper. It looked official, in a sad sort of way. Better than returning with nothing to show her brother. She signed with a bold hand and indicated a spot where Jem could sign as witness.

Her new husband returned to her side from the forge, where he had been watching the smithy. He held a hand out to her. ‘Now here, angel, is the trick if you want to be legal. Not married without a ring, are you?’ He was holding something small and dark between the fingers of his hand. ‘Give over.’ He reached for her.

‘I think your signature is all that is needed. And that of the smith, of course.’ She smiled hopefully at the smith. ‘You will be compensated, sir, for the trouble.’

At the mention of compensation, he took the pen and made his mark at the bottom of the paper.

‘Here, here, sir.’ Her husband took another drink, in the man’s honour. ‘And to my wife.’ He drank again. ‘Your Grace.’

She shook her head. ‘Now, you are mistaking me for someone else, Adam. Perhaps it would be best to leave off the brandy for a time.’

‘You said I could have all I wanted. And so I shall.’ But there was no anger as he said it. ‘Your hand, madam.’ He took her left hand and slipped something on to the ring finger, then reached for the pen.

She glanced down. The smith had twisted a horseshoe nail into a crude semblance of a ring, and her hand was heavily weighted with it. Further proof that she had truly been to Scotland, since the X of the smith held no real meaning.

Adam signed with a flourish, beside her own name. ‘We need to seal it as well. Makes it look more official.’ He snatched the candle from the table and dripped a clot of the grease at the bottom of the paper, and pulled out his watch fob, which held a heavy gold seal. ‘There. As good as anything in Parliament.’ He grinned down at the paper and tipped the flask up for another drink.

She stared at the elegant signature above the wax. ‘Adam Felkirk, Duke of Bellston.’

‘At your service, madam.’ He bowed deeply, and the weight of his own head overbalanced him. Then he pitched forward, striking his head on the corner of the table, to fall unconscious at her feet.




Chapter Three


Adam regained consciousness, slowly. It was a mercy, judging by the way he felt when he moved his head. He remembered whisky. A lot of whisky. Followed by brandy, which was even more foolish. And his brain and body remembered it as well, and were punishing him for the consumption. His head throbbed, his mouth was dry as cotton, and his eyes felt full of sand.

He moved slightly. He could feel bruises on his body. He reached up and probed the knot forming on his temple. From a fall.

And there had been another fall. In the coach yard.

Damn it. He was alive.

He closed his eyes again. If he’d have thought it through, he’d have recognised his mistake. Carriages were slowing down when they reached the inn yard. The one he’d stepped in front of had been able to stop in time to avoid hitting him.

‘Waking up, I see.’

Adam raised his head and squinted into the unfamiliar room at the man sitting beside the bed. ‘Who the devil are you?’

The man was at least twenty years his senior, but unbent by age, and powerfully built. He was dressed as a servant, but showed no subservience, for he did not answer the question. ‘How much do you remember of yesterday, your Grace?’

‘I remember falling down in front of an inn.’

‘I see.’ The man said nothing more.

‘Would you care to enlighten me? Or am I to play yes and no, until I can suss out the details?’

‘The carriage you stepped in front of belonged to my mistress.’

‘I apologise,’ he said, not feeling the least bit sorry. ‘I hope she was not unduly upset.’

‘On the contrary. She considered it a most fortunate circumstance. And I assure you, you were conscious enough to agree to what she suggested, even if you do not remember it. We did not learn your identity until you’d signed the licence.’

‘Licence?’

‘You travelled north with us, your Grace. To Scotland.’

‘Why the devil would I do that?’ Adam lowered his voice, for the volume of his own words made the pounding in his skull more violent.

‘You went to Gretna, to a blacksmith.’

He shook his head, and realised immediately that it had been a mistake to try such drastic movement. He remained perfectly still and attempted another answer. ‘It sounds almost as if you are describing an elopement. Did I stand in witness for someone?’

The servant held the paper before him, and he could see his shaky signature at the bottom, sealed with his fob and a dab of what appeared to be candle wax. Adam lunged for it, and the servant stepped out of the way.

His guts heaved at the sudden movement, leaving him panting and sweating as he waited for the rocking world to subside.

‘Who?’ he croaked.

‘Is your wife?’ completed the servant.

‘Yes.’

‘Penelope Winthorpe. She is a printer’s daughter, from London.’

‘Annulment.’

‘Before you suggest it to her, let me apprise you of the facts. She is worth thirty thousand a year and has much more in her bank. If I surmise correctly, you were attempting to throw yourself under the horses when we met you. If the problem that led you to such a rash act was monetary, it was solved this morning.’

He fell back into the pillows and struggled to remember any of the last day. There was nothing there. Apparently, he had fallen face down in the street and found himself an heiress to marry.

Married to the daughter of a tradesman. How could he have been so foolish? His father would be horrified to see the family brought to such.

Of course, his father had been dead for many years. His opinions in the matter were hardly to be considered. And considering that the result of his own careful planning was a sunk ship, near bankruptcy, and attempted suicide, a hasty marriage to some rich chit was not so great a disaster.

And if the girl were lovely and personable?

He relaxed. She must be, if he had been so quick to marry her. He must have been quite taken with her, although he did not remember the fact. There had to be a reason that he had offered for her, other than just the money, hadn’t there?

It was best to speak with her, before deciding on a course of action. He gestured to the servant. ‘I need a shave. And have someone draw water for a bath. Then I will see this mistress of yours, and we will discuss what is to become of her.’

An hour later, Penelope hesitated at the door to the duke’s bedroom, afraid to enter and trying in vain to convince herself that she had any right to be as close to him as she was.

The illogic of her former actions rang in her ears. What had she been thinking? She must have been transported with rage to have come up with such a foolhardy plan. Now that she was calm enough to think with a clear head, she must gather her courage and try to undo the mess she’d made. Until the interview was over, the man was her husband. Why should she not visit him in his rooms?

But the rest of her brain screamed that this man was not her husband. This was the Duke of Bellston, peer of the realm and leading figure in Parliament, whose eloquent speeches she had been reading in The Times scant weeks ago. She had heartily applauded his opinions and looked each day for news about him, since he seemed, above all others, to offer wise and reasoned governance. As she’d scanned the papers for any mention of him, her brother had remarked it was most like a woman to romanticise a public figure.

But she had argued that she admired Bellston for his ideas. The man was a political genius, one of the great minds of the age, which her brother might have noticed, had he not been too mutton-headed to concern himself with current affairs. There was nothing at all romantic about it, for it was not the man itself she admired, but the positions he represented.

And it was not as if the papers had included a caricature of the duke that she was swooning over. She had no idea how he might look in person. So she had made his appearance up in her head out of whole cloth. By his words, she had assumed him to be an elder statesmen, with grey hair, piercing eyes and a fearsome intellect. Tall and lean, since he did not appear from his speeches to be given to excesses, in diet or spirit.

If she were to meet him, which of course she never would, she would wish only to engage him in discourse, and question him on his views, perhaps offering a few of her own. But it would never happen, for what would such a great man want with her and her opinions?

She would never in a million years have imagined him as a handsome young noble, or expected to find him stone drunk and face down in the street where he had very nearly met his end under her horse. And never in a hundred million years would she expect to find herself standing in front of his bedchamber.

She raised her hand to knock, but before she could make contact with the wood, she heard his voice from within. ‘Enter, if you are going to, or return to your rooms. But please stop lurking in the hallway.’

She swallowed annoyance along with her fear, opened the door, and stepped into the room.

Adam Felkirk was sitting beside the bed, and made no effort to rise as she came closer. His seat might as well have been a throne as a common wooden chair, for he held his position with the confidence of a man who could buy and sell the inn and the people in it, and not think twice about the bills. He stared at her, unsmiling, and even though he looked up into her eyes it felt as though he were looking down upon her.

The man in front of her was obviously a peer. How could she have missed the fact yesterday?

Quite easily, she reminded herself. A day earlier he could manage none of the hauteur he was displaying now. Unlike some men, the excess of liquor made him amiable. Drunkenness had relaxed his resolute posture and softened his features.

Not that the softness had made them any more appealing. Somehow she had not noticed what a handsome man she had chosen, sober and clean, shaved and in fresh linen. She felt the irresistible pull the moment she looked at him. He was superb. High cheekbones and pale skin no longer flushed with whisky. Straight nose, thick dark hair. And eyes of the deepest blue, so clear that to look into them refreshed the soul. And knowing the mind that lay behind them, she grew quite weak. There was a hint of sensuality in the mouth, and she was carnally aware of the quirk of the lips when he looked at her, and the smile behind them.

And now he was waiting for her to speak. ‘Your Grace …’ she faltered.

‘It is a day too late to be so formal, madam.’ His voice, now that it was not slurred, held a tone of command that she could not resist.

She dropped a curtsy.

He sneered. ‘Leave off with that, immediately. If it is meant to curry favour, it is not succeeding. Your servant explained some of what happened, while he was shaving me. It seems this marriage was all your idea, and none of mine?’

‘I am sorry. I had no idea who you were.’

He examined her closely, as though she were a bug on a pin. ‘You expect me to believe that you were unaware of my title when you waylaid me to Scotland?’

‘Completely. I swear. You were injured in the street before my carriage. I was concerned for your safety.’

‘And so you married me. Such a drastic rescue was not necessary.’

‘I meant to marry someone. It was the intent of the trip.’

‘And when you found a peer, lying helpless in the street—’

‘As I told you before, I had no idea of your title. And I could hardly have left you alone. Suppose you had done harm to yourself?’

There was a sharp intake of breath from the man across the table from her and she hoped that she had not insulted him by the implication.

‘I am sorry. But you seemed insensible. You were in a vulnerable state.’

‘And you took advantage of it.’

She hung her head. ‘I have no defence against that accusation.’ She held out the mock licence to him. ‘But I am prepared to offer you your freedom. No one knows what has occurred between us. Here is the only record of it. The smith that witnessed could not read the words upon it, and never inquired your name. I will not speak of it, nor will my servant. You have but to throw it on the fire and you are a free man.’

‘As easy as that.’ The sarcasm in his voice was plain. ‘You will never trouble me again. You do not intend to reappear, when I choose to marry again, and wave a copy of this in my face. You will never announce to my bride that she has no legal right to wed me?’

‘Why should I?’ she pleaded. ‘I hold no malice towards you. It is you that hold me in contempt, and I richly deserve it. Do I wish to extort money from you? Again, the answer would be no. I have ample enough fortune to supply my needs. I do not seek yours.’

He was looking at her as though he could not believe what he was hearing. ‘You truly do not understand the gravity of what you have done. I cannot simply throw this on the fire and pretend nothing has happened. Perhaps you can. But I signed it, with my true name and title, and sealed it as well. Drunk or sober, for whatever reason, the result is the same. I am legally bound to you. If my name is to mean anything to me, I cannot ignore the paper in front of me.’

He stared at the licence, and his eyes looked bleak. ‘You are right that no one need know if I destroy it. But I would know of it. If we had been in England, it would be a Fleet marriage and would mean nothing. But by the laws of Scotland, we are man and wife. To ignore this and marry again without a formal annulment would be bigamy. It matters not to me that I am the only one who knows the truth. I cannot behave thus and call myself a man of honour.’

She willed herself not to cry, for tears would do no good. They would make her look even more foolish than she already did. ‘Then you shall have your annulment, your Grace. In any way that will suit you. I am sorry that scandal cannot be avoided, but I will take all the blame in the matter.’

‘Your reputation will be in ruins.’

She shook her head. ‘A spotless reputation has in no way balanced my shortcomings thus far. What harm can scandal do me?’

‘Spotless?’ He was eyeing her again. ‘Most young girls with spotless reputations have no need to flee to Scotland for a hasty marriage to a complete stranger.’

‘You thought I was …’ Oh, dear lord. He thought she was with child, which made her behaviour seem even more sordid and conniving then it already was. ‘No. That is not the problem. Not at all. My circumstances are …’ she sought a word ‘… unusual.’

‘Unusual circumstances?’ He arched his eyebrows, leaned back and folded his arms. ‘Tell me of them. If we have eliminated fortune hunting, blackmail and the need to find a father for your bastard, then I am out of explanations for your behaviour.’

He was staring at her, waiting. And she looked down into those very blue eyes, and, almost against her will, began to speak. She told him of her father. And her brother. The conditions of her inheritance. The foolishness over the book. ‘And so, I decided that I must marry. It did not really matter to whom. If I could find someone on the way to Scotland … And then you fell in front of the carriage.’

He was looking at her most curiously. ‘Surely you hoped for better than a total stranger.’

‘Once, perhaps. But now I hope only for peace and quiet, and to be surrounded by my books.’

‘But a girl with the fortune you claim …’

It was her turn to sneer at him. ‘A plain face and disagreeable nature have managed to offset any financial advantages a marriage to me might offer. Only the most desperate would be willing to put up with me, for I can be most uncooperative when crossed.

‘Since I know from experience that I will refuse to be led by my husband in all things, I sought someone I could control.’ She looked at him and shook her head. ‘And I failed, most dreadfully. In my defence, you were most biddable while intoxicated.’

He laughed, and it surprised her. ‘Once you had found this biddable husband, what did you mean to do with him?’

‘Gain control of my inheritance. Retire to my library and allow my husband to do as he chose in all things not pertaining to me.’

‘In all things not pertaining to you.’ He was staring at her again, and it occurred to her the things he might expect from a woman who was his wife. Suddenly, the room felt unaccountably warm.

She dropped her eyes from his. ‘I did not wish for intimacy. But neither did I expect fidelity. Or sobriety. Or regular hours, or even attendance in the same house. I had hoped for civility, of course. But affection was not required. I did not wish to give over all of my funds, but I certainly do not need all of them for myself. If they remain with my brother, in time I will have nothing at all. I have thirty thousand a year. I should suspect that half would be more than enough for most gentlemen to entertain themselves.’

Again, there was an intake of breath from the man across from her. ‘Suppose the gentleman needed more.’

‘More?’ She blinked back at him.

‘One hundred and fifty thousand, as soon as possible.’

One hundred and fifty thousand. The number was mind-boggling, but she considered it, doing the maths in her head. ‘I should not think it would be a problem. I have savings. And I do not need much to live on. While it will reduce my annual income considerably, it will leave more than enough for my needs.’

He studied her even more intently, got up and walked slowly around her, considering her from several angles. Then he returned to his chair. ‘If I go to your brother and present myself as your husband, which indeed I am, then you would give me one hundred and fifty thousand pounds and the freedom to do as I wish with it?’

‘It is only money. But it is my money, and I can do as I will.’ She looked back into his eyes, searching for anything that might give her a clue as to his true nature, and hoping that it aligned in some small way with the man who had written such wonderful speeches. ‘I should as soon see you have it as my brother, for I am most angry with him. You may have as much money as you need. If you agree to my other conditions, of course.’

He met her gaze without flinching. ‘Why would I have to do that? Now that I am your husband, I can do as I please with all the money. You are a woman, and lost all say in the matter when you were foolish enough to wed a stranger.’

‘There was the flaw in my plan,’ she admitted. ‘I expected to find a man slower in wit than the one I seem to have married. A drunken fool would be easy enough to gull. I could distract him with pleasures of the flesh. By the time he sobered enough to realise the extent of his good fortune, I meant to have the majority of my assets converted to cash and secured against him.’

She looked as closely at him as he had at her. ‘But you are likely to know better. And I have given you the licence that proves your right to control my money, should you choose to exercise it. In truth, I am as much at your mercy now as you were at mine yesterday.’

There was a flicker of something in his eyes that she could not understand.

She said, ‘You say you are a man of honour. And so I must appeal to your better nature. If you wish it, you may destroy the paper in front of you or we can go to London and seek a formal annulment.

‘Or we can go directly to my bankers, and you can take control of the fortune, which is your right as my husband. If so, I beg you to allow me some measure of freedom, and the time and money necessary to pursue my studies. The choice is yours.’

She thought to dip her head in submission, and decided against it. She waited in silence, watching for some sign of what he might say next. And the look in his eyes changed gradually from one of suspicion, to speculation, to calculation and eventually to something she thought might be avarice. He was thinking of the money. And what he might do with it, God help her.

It was a day too late to inquire what that might be. She had found the man, drunk as a lord in a public place. Who knew what vices he might be capable of? If she had not cared to discover this yesterday, it did no good to care now. And if his lechery and drunkenness were strong enough to run through the whole of her money, then it would prove to her brother just how foolish she was.

At last, he spoke. ‘When you found me, I was near the end of my rope. An investment that should have returned enough to tide me and my estate through the coming year had failed, utterly. I have responsibilities. People are depending on me for their welfare. And I am destitute.

‘Or was, until you appeared and offered me this opportunity. What I need to do may take a larger portion of your money than you had hoped to part with. But I hope it will be a temporary loss. My land is fertile most years, and returns more than enough to live in luxury. Had I not gambled with the profits, hoping for an increase, I would not be in need of your help.’

Gambling? Although it did not please her, it made perfect sense. Many men of considerable wealth lost all over a green baize table. She could but hope that she might hide some of the money from him, or perhaps, through sound advice, she might prevent him from making a similar mistake in the future.

He was waiting for some response on her part, and she gave him a faint nod of understanding.

He continued. ‘In exchange, you shall be a duchess, which will make it possible to do largely as you please in all things. No one will dare to question your actions or your spending, least of all me. If you do not have cash in hand, no one will deny you credit. The bills will come to me, to be paid at such time as we have the funds for them.’

Doing business on credit went against her nature. But the prospect of freedom beckoned, and hope flared in her. ‘And my studies?’

‘If you do not wish to question my diversions, then what right would I have to question yours?’

As her husband? He would have every right in the world. But he was being most reasonable about things, so she held her tongue on the literalities. ‘I doubt we would have much in common—in the matter of diversions, I mean.’

He nodded. ‘Quite possibly not. We might live comfortably as strangers, although in the same house.’ There was no sense of remorse as he said it. ‘But I see no reason that we cannot succeed at it. As long as we have no intention of impeding each other’s pleasure, we might manage well together. Certainly better than some couples I know who seem bent on ensuring their spouse’s misery.’

It seemed so cold, when stated thus. But her new husband seemed content with it. He did not care that she wished to be alone with her books. And looking at his full lips and the seductive light in his blue eyes, she suspected the less she knew about his activities when he was not in Parliament, the happier she would be.

She ventured, ‘It sounds most pleasant when you describe it thus.’ Which was not precisely true. ‘And very much what I was hoping for.’ Which was. It was exactly what she had hoped for, and she must not forget the fact.

He smiled in return, although there was a frozen quality to his face that made her unsure. ‘Very well, then.’ He reached out a hand to her, and she stared at it for a moment before offering him her own. He took it and shook. ‘We are in agreement. Let us hope that this union will prove mutually beneficial.’

‘Will you be ready to start for London today?’

He started at the impertinence of her request. He was not accustomed to having another set his schedule.

She hesitated. ‘I admit to being most eager to bring the news of my marriage to my brother. And my bankers, of course.’

He remembered the money, and his resistance to her suggestion evaporated. ‘Today would suit me nicely. Have your footman prepare the carriage.’ He nodded in such a way that she knew the interview was at an end and she was dismissed.

Adam watched his new wife exit the room and sank back into his chair, exhausted. What in God’s name had he just agreed to? He’d sunk so low as to marry a cit’s daughter, just to get her money.

And a cool voice at the back of his head reminded him that it was better than his first plan, if it meant that he could be alive to correct his mistake and rebuild his fortune. He had been given a second chance and would make the most of it. There would be money in the bank before his creditors noticed that there had been an absence. And by next year, the drought would be over, the coffers refilling and the present state of penury no more than a bad dream.

And he would be a married man. What was he to do with—he struggled to remember her name—Penelope Winthorpe?

He shook his head. She was Penelope Felkirk now. And there was nothing to be done, according to her. She wished to be left alone.

He was more than willing to grant her wish. He could not very well parade her in front of his friends as the new duchess. He’d be a laughing stock.

He immediately felt guilty for his pride. He’d be a laughing stock in any case, knowing his circle, who often found the humour in the misfortunes of others. Let them laugh. It would not matter, if he managed to save the estate.

But it pained him that they might laugh at her, as well, with her unfashionable clothes, her spectacles and outlandish ideas. To what purpose did the world need another translation of Homer? The majority had had more than enough of that story, by the time they’d left the schoolroom. And yet she was still worrying over it.

But he could find no indication that she meant him harm, by picking him up out of the street. In truth, she had saved his life. And her money would save his land as well.

What would people think of it? She was most obviously not his sort, in temperament or in birth. She was nothing like the ladies of the ton that he usually chose as companions. The world expected him to marry someone more like Clarissa Colton: beautiful, worldly, and with wit that cut like a razor. He shuddered.

Perhaps it told him something of his true mental state that he had married Clare’s opposite. Penelope Winthorpe’s clothes were without style, and her manner was bookish and hesitant. And her looks?

He shook his head. She’d called herself plain, but it was not truly accurate a definition. Plainness implied a commonality with the norm. A face unmemorable. And that did not describe his new wife.

Her looks … were disturbing. Her hair was too pale, almost white. Her skin as well, from too much time spent indoors with her books. And her spectacles hid eyes that were bright and far too observant. He wanted to know what she saw when she looked at him, for she had been studying him most intently. It was like being pierced to the soul, when her eye had held his. A gimlet, not a razor.

The intelligence in that gaze was daunting. And in her words as well. He’d have expected it from another man, but to hear such reasonable behaviour from a woman? There had been no nonsense. No tears behind the lashes. No attempt to appeal to him with her frailty. Their interview had been a frank meeting of intellectual equals.

Her presence had been both calming and stimulating. The combination made him uneasy. It was far too much to take before one had had one’s morning tea.

But it shouldn’t matter, he reminded himself. He needed nothing more from her than her money, and she needed nothing from him but his name. There would be scant little time staring into those disquieting eyes over breakfast. If she did not care for his title, then she need not concern herself with society, after the briefest introduction. And he would be spared the expenses of time or money that were involved in the keeping of a wife in the height of fashion.

And it dawned on him that there were other responsibilities in the taking of a wife that had nothing to do with the purchase of jewels and the redecoration of the manor.

There should be children.

He thought of her eyes again, and imagined a brood of little eyes following him with that same direct stare: dangerously clever children with insatiable curiosity. The prospect intrigued him, but it was not something he was likely to experience, if their current plan went forwards.

It came as somewhat of a relief to know that the title could follow another branch of the family tree. He had his brother as heir. That had been a fine plan yesterday. And if not William, then perhaps William would marry and have sons of his own. Good-tempered and intelligent children, just like their father. Any of those might do for the next duke.

Very well, then. He would take her back to London, or let her take him. And if what she said was true, he would sort out the money, right enough. And once she and her books were safely stowed at Bellston, then he could return to his comfortable old life. They would live, happily ever after, as was told in folk tales.

Just not with each other.




Chapter Four


The carriage ride to London was nothing like the one to Gretna. The trip outbound had been more excitement than misgiving, since she was convinced of the soundness of her plan and the immediate improvement it would bring to her life.

But now that she had succeeded, she found it most disquieting. Jem had been relegated to a seat beside the driver, leaving her alone with her new husband with a morose shake of the head that showed no confidence in a brighter future.

The man seated across from her was not the drunkard she had rescued on the way to Scotland. That man had been relaxed and friendly. His posture was familiar, as was his speech.

But when sober, the duke continued to behave as a duke. She hoped he was still feeling the effects of the liquor, for his expression was most forbidding, and she hoped it was not she that had put the look of disgust on his face. Or, worse yet, that his foul mood was habitual. Perhaps it was only the strain of travel, for they had been almost two full days on the road.

For whatever reason, her new husband sat rigidly in his seat across from her, showing no desire to close the distance between them.

And in response, she felt repelled from him.

It was foolish to care on that account. Jem’s original fears were quite the contrary to the truth. He had imagined her wrestling a brute for her virtue in the back of a moving carriage. But this man no more desired the physical contact of his spouse than she did herself.

The chatty voyage to Gretna had been replaced with an uninterested silence that she suspected could stretch the length of the trip and far into the future.

And it was all right with her, she reminded herself. Once they were settled, she would return to her books and would appreciate a husband who was not likely to interrupt her work with demands for her attention.

Still, there were things that must be decided before they arrived in London. And that would be impossible without some communication.

She cleared her throat, hesitating to speak.

He looked up at her expectantly.

‘I was wondering if you had considered what we might do once we reach London.’

‘Do?’

‘Well, yes. I wish to go to my bank, of course. And make my father’s solicitors aware of my change in status.’ He nodded.

‘But once that is done? Well, we cannot very well live with my brother. There is room, of course, but I doubt that it would be in any way comfortable …’

He was staring at her and she fell into embarrassed silence. He spoke. ‘When we arrive in the city, we will be going directly to my townhouse, and can make the financial arrangements after that.’

‘Your townhouse.’

‘Of course.’

She readied an objection, but paused before speaking. He was her husband, after all. And a man used to being obeyed. Insisting on her own way in this was liable to meet with objections. She said, ‘Wherever we reside, I will need room for my collection of books, which is quite substantial. And a quiet place to study. A London townhouse might not be the best choice …’

He sighed, quite out of patience with her. ‘Perhaps not the ones you have seen. But I assure you, the Bellston property in London is more than sufficient. We will not be staying there for long, since no one of any fashion is in London at this time. We will adjourn to the manor, once you have settled your business.’

‘Manor?’

He was still looking at her as though she were an idiot. ‘My home. I have a hunting lodge near Scotland, as well. I was visiting there when you found me. But there is no reason for you to see it at this time or ever, if you have no interest.’

‘A manor,’ she repeated.

His expression had grown somewhat bemused. ‘And where did you think I lived, madam? Under a bridge?’

‘I did not think on it. At all.’ And now she looked foolish. It annoyed her even more that she probably was. She had acted in a fit of temper, without considering the consequences.

‘So you truly gave no thought to my title.’ There was still a touch of amazement in the statement, as though he found the fact hard to comprehend, even after two days’ trying. ‘The peerage has both responsibilities as well as advantages. A title such as mine comes with a reward of land. In many years, it is a gift, but in some, it is a burden. In either case, I cannot simply walk away from it to indulge a whim.’

‘A burden?’

‘A recent fire has left portions of the manor house unlivable. Repairs are in effect, even as we speak. Expensive repairs,’ he added significantly.

She nodded, understanding his most specific request for funds.

‘Most of the house is livable, but I have business to complete in town. And so we will remain for a time in London, and reside in the townhouse. You will find space ample for your needs, I assure you.’

‘That is good to know.’ She was not at all sure that it was, but there was little she could do to change it.

‘We will go to your bank as soon as you wish. You will introduce me as your new husband, and I shall need to make it clear to my solicitors that I have taken a wife. I doubt we can escape without the marriage becoming an on dit, for it is rather irregular.’

And there was another thing to worry about. She had not taken into account that his social life would be disrupted by the sudden marriage. No wonder he seemed cross. For her part, the idea was more than a little disturbing.

He continued. ‘As soon as is possible, we shall retire to the country. We will take your books, of course. Have no fear of that. I doubt anyone shall wonder very much about us, once we are out of the public eye. I will need to return for Parliament, next session. But whether you choose to accompany me is your own affair.’

She searched his plan for flaws and found none. After the initial shock of it wore off, of course. She had expected to choose her own dwelling, and that her circumstances might diminish after leaving her brother’s home. Why did she need a large house when a smaller one would suit her needs? But a manor …

‘Did you have a better solution?’ There was a touch of acid in the tone, but it was said mildly enough, considering.

He had taken pains to assure her that she would not lose her books. The least she could do was attempt to be co-operative. ‘No. No. That is most satisfactory.’

‘Satisfactory.’ His mouth quirked. ‘My holdings are not so rich as some, but I assure you that you will find them much more than satisfactory, once the improvements have been made.’

‘Of course.’

Silence fell again. She looked down at her hands and out at the passing countryside, trying to appear comfortable. So, she was to be lady of a manor in the country. What part of the country? She had forgotten to ask. It would make her appear even more ignorant, if she waited until they were packed and driving toward it, to inquire.

Of course, once she was back in London, it would be easy enough to find the information, without having to ask her husband.

Unless her failure to ask made her appear uninterested in her new spouse …

It was all becoming very confusing.

He cleared his throat. ‘This brother of yours. Is he a printer as well?’ There was a pause. ‘Because the servant mentioned that your father had been. And I thought, perhaps, family business …’ He trailed off, displaying none of the eloquence that she had expected from him. Apparently, he was as uncomfortable in his ignorance as she was with hers.

She smiled and looked back at him. ‘Yes. It is a family business. My father loved it dearly, and the books as well. And reading them, of course. He and Mother named us from the classics. My brother’s name is Hector. Father always said that education was a great equaliser.’

‘It is fortunate that a lack of education does not work in the same way. I was sent down from Oxford. It has had little effect on my status.’

They fell silent, again. She longed to ask why he had been forced to leave Oxford, but did not wish to seem impertinent. Was he like her brother had been, unimpressed by her desire for scholarship?

If so, he was biding his time before making the fact known. He’d had ample opportunity in the last few days to point out her foolishness over the translation. But he had said nothing yet.

‘Marriage is also a great equaliser,’ he said, to no one in particular.

Did he mean to refer to her sudden rise in society? If so, it was most unfair of him. She looked at him sharply. ‘Apparently so. For once we reach the bank, your fortune shall be the equal of mine.’

She noted the flash of surprise in his eyes, as though she had struck him. And she waited with some trepidation for the response.

Then his face cleared, and he laughed. And suddenly she was sharing the carriage with the man she thought she had married. ‘Touché. I expect I will hear similar sentiments once my friends get wind of our happy union, but I had not expected to hear them from my own wife. I recommend, madam, that you save some of that sharp tongue to respond to those that wish to offer you false compliments on your most fortunate marriage.’

People would talk.

Well, of course they would. Why had she not realised the fact? And they would talk in a way that they never would have had she married the drunken nobody she was seeking. She was a duchess.

She would be noticed. And people would laugh.

A hand touched her, and she jumped, and realised that she had forgotten she was not alone in the carriage. She looked up into the face of her new husband, and read the concern on his face.

‘Are you all right?’ He said it very deliberately, as though he expected her to misunderstand. ‘For a moment, you looked quite ill.’

‘It is nothing. We have been travelling for some time, and the trip …’ She let her words drift away, allowing him to make what he would of them.

‘Shall I tell the driver to stop?’

‘No, really. I will be fine.’

‘Perhaps if we switch seats—a change of direction might help.’ He took her hands and pulled her up off her bench, rising and pivoting gracefully in the tight space of the rocking carriage, to take her place and give her his. Then he pulled the shade on the window so that the moving scenery did not addle her gaze.

‘Thank you.’ She did still feel somewhat faint at the realisation of what she had done by marrying, and the impact it might have on the rest of her life. The distant and strange idea occurred to her that her husband was being most helpful and understanding about the whole thing. And that it might be nice to sit beside him, and rest her head against his shoulder for a time, until the world stopped spinning around her.

Which was a ludicrous idea. He was solicitous, but he had done nothing to make her think she was welcome to climb into his coat pocket. She looked at him again, even more beautiful in his concern for her, and closed her eyes against the realisation that they were a ridiculous study in contrast. A casual observer could not help but comment on it.

If he noticed the clamminess of her hand, which he still held, he did not comment, but reached out with his other hand as well, to rub some warmth back into the fingers. ‘We will be in the city soon. You will feel much better, I am sure, once we have had some refreshment and a change of clothes.’

She certainly hoped so, for she doubted that she could feel any worse.




Chapter Five


When she opened her eyes a while later, the carriage was pulling up in front of a row of fine houses, and he tapped on the door, waiting for the servants to open it and put down the step. Then he descended and offered his hand to her. ‘My dear?’

She reached out nervously to take it, while her mind raced to argue that she was in no way dear to him. The endearment was both inaccurate and unnecessary.

He saw the look in her eyes, and said, before she could speak, ‘It might go easier with the servants if we maintain a pretence of familiarity. They will obey you, in any case. They would be foolish not to. But all the same …’

She nodded. ‘Thank you, Adam.’ There. She had said his name.

A footman opened the door before them, and she entered on the arm of the duke, who greeted the butler with a curt, ‘Assemble the staff. Immediately.’

The man disappeared. He reappeared a short time later, accompanied by what Penny assumed must be the cook and the housekeeper, and, as she watched, an assortment of maids and footmen appeared from various entrances, lining up in an orderly row behind them.

She counted them. It must be a great house, as he had said, to need a staff so large. The home she had managed for her brother had made do with a staff of four. She reminded herself with some firmness that they were only servants and it did not do to show her fear of them.

The duke looked out over the small crowd assembled. ‘I have called you all out from below stairs for an announcement. On my recent trip north, things did not go quite as expected.’ He paused. ‘Actually, they went much better than I expected. I married.’

There was an audible gasp from the room, before the servants managed to regain control of their emotions.

‘May I present her Grace, the Duchess of Bellston—’

Before she could stop herself, she felt her knees begin to curtsy to the non-existent duchess, and her husband’s hand came out to lift her back to her feet.

‘—formerly, Miss Penelope Winthorpe. In celebration of this fact, you may all take the rest of the day off, to do as you will.’

There was an unexpected moment of tension.

‘With pay, of course,’ he added, and she could feel the staff relax again. ‘We will be dining out. You need do nothing on our behalf until breakfast.’

The gasp had turned to a murmur of excitement, as the staff realised their good fortune.

‘Three cheers for his Grace and the new lady of the house.’ The butler made an offer of ‘huzzah’ sound subdued and polite, but she accepted it with pleasure, as did her husband. ‘Thank you. And now, you are dismissed. Enjoy the rest of your day.’

As quickly as they had gathered, the staff evaporated.

She looked at him, waiting for some indication of what was to be done next.

He glanced around him, seeking inspiration. ‘Perhaps, a tour of the rooms would be in order. And then we will refresh ourselves, before a trip to your bankers.’

She nodded. ‘An excellent plan. Please, your Grace, lead the way.’

He flinched. ‘Remember, I am to be Adam to you. And you shall be?’ He cocked his head to the side. ‘Do you prefer Penelope, or are you a Penny?’

‘Penny.’

‘Then Penny it shall be, and whatever small endearments I can muster. Come, Penny.’ There was a hesitation, as though he was struggling with a foreign language. ‘Let me show you your home in London.’ He led her down a short corridor, to doors that led to a parlour, which was grand; and a dining room, grander still, with room to seat twenty people. At the back of the house were a study, and a morning room.

‘And this shall be yours.’ He gestured into the sitting room, hesitating in the doorway as though he were afraid to enter.

She could understand why. Whoever had decorated the room had been the most ladylike of ladies. The furniture was gilt and satin, with legs so delicately turned that she was almost afraid to sit on it. If she chose a second sandwich at tea, the settee might collapse from the additional weight. And the desk, which would need to hold her books and writing materials, looked as though it might faint dead away, if expected to hold anything more serious than social correspondence. The other tables in the room were too small for anything larger than a rosebud, which would have to be candy pink to match the horrible silk upon the walls. The total was so sweet it made her teeth ache to look at it.

She looked in disgust at the ormolu clock on the mantel, which was supported by tiny gold goats and overflown with cherubs.

In response to her glare, the clock chimed the quarter hour, if such a stubbornly unobtrusive bell could be considered a chime.

She looked to her husband and struggled to speak. The correct response should have been ‘thank you’. But it was quite beyond her. Eventually she said, ‘It is very—pretty.’

He nodded in apology. ‘We can find you furniture more suitable for work, and install additional shelves.’ He pointed to a rather foolish collection of porcelain shepherds that graced a corner of the room. ‘The bric-a-brac and nonsense can be dispensed with, if you wish.’

She looked dubiously around her.

‘The room itself is large enough, is it not?’

She tried to ignore the design, and focus on the dimensions. It was larger than the one she had been using. She nodded.

‘Very good, then. Redo it to suit yourself. I expected nothing less than that, from whatever woman I married. The rest of the house as well. If you see something that does not suit your tastes, it is well in your power to change it.’ He paused. ‘Except for my rooms, if you please. I would prefer that my bedroom and study remain as they are now.’

‘I think that is not an issue. For I have seen nothing so far that needs alteration, and have no desire to change everything for change’s sake.’ She neglected to point out that, since any cosmetic changes to the house were to be made with her money, it hardly seemed like a sensible use of the funds. ‘But this—’ she gestured into her new work room ‘—must go.’

‘Thank you.’ He seemed relieved as well. There had a been tension in his back that eased as she said the words, and she suspected the first marital hurdle had been jumped with ease. He made no effort to open the door to his study, and she suspected that he wished some areas of his life to remain unviewed as well as untouched.

Fair enough.

‘Let us go upstairs, then, and see the bedrooms.’ He led her up the wide marble staircase and turned to the left, opening a door for her. ‘These will be your rooms. There is a bedroom, a dressing room and a small room for your maid.’

None of which had been aired, she noted. The fireplace was cold and empty, and there was an uncomfortable chill in the unused room.

He noticed it as well, and wrinkled his nose. ‘Well. Hmm. It seems I spoke too soon, when sending the staff away for a day of celebration. I have left no one to light you a fire.’ He stepped across the room and opened a connecting door to his suite. There was a nervous pause. ‘And I see the servants have brought your things to my room. They assumed …’ He looked back at her, helplessly. ‘This is not as it appears.’

What upset him more? she wondered—that she might think he wished to bed her, or that the servants had assumed that he would? ‘It is all right. We will work things out between us, somehow.’

He nodded. ‘Do you wish to change? You are welcome to use my room. There is a basin of fresh water. And clean towels. I could send for a maid to help you … Oh, damn. If you need help, I suppose, I …’

She imagined the feel of his hands at her back, undoing buttons. ‘No. Thank you. I have become most adept at managing for myself, if there is no one to help me. If you will give me but a few minutes?’

He nodded and stepped aside, allowing her access to his room.

As the door shut behind her, she went hurriedly to the portmanteau on the floor and chose a fresh gown, struggling briefly with the closures at her back and slipping out of the travelling dress. Then she splashed some water from the basin on to her face, slipped into the new gown and used her brush to arrange her hair as best as was possible.

She could not help it, but glanced in the mirror behind her, examining the room. The man they had rescued from the street was obviously wealthy, but had seemed to have little care for health, his own cleanliness or welfare.

But the room behind her was orderly and immaculate. A sign of good housekeeping, perhaps. But there was more to it than that. The items in the room were expensive but well used and well cared for. The style and arrangement were elegant but simple. The whole suggested a well-ordered mind in repose. It gave her some level of comfort, knowing that her new husband’s private rooms looked as they did. This was what she had expected from the Duke of Bellston.

She opened the door to the wardrobe and examined the line of coats and neatly hung breeches and trousers, and the row of brightly polished boots. Expensive, but not gaudy. The man was well tailored, but not a dandy. If he had sunk his fortune because he was prone to excess, there was no indication of it here.

From behind her, he cleared his throat.

She whirled, shutting the wardrobe door behind her.

‘I am sorry. I knocked, but obviously you did not hear. Is there something you needed?’

That would cause her to snoop in his closet? He did not finish the sentence, allowing her a scrap of pride to hide her embarrassment. ‘No. I am quite finished, thank you.’

‘Then I would like to use my room as well, if you do not mind …’ There was a hint of challenge there, but his face showed bland inquiry.

‘I’ll just wait downstairs. In the sitting room?’

‘Thank you.’

She turned and exited the room before he could see the blush on her cheek, retracing her steps to her room on the first floor.

Adam waited for the click of the door latch before struggling out of his coat. It would be easier to call for his valet and admit that he had spoken in haste when releasing the staff. But he could manage to do for himself, if his wife had done so. And a day of leisure for the servants would unite them in support of the new mistress, and quell fears of upheaval and negative gossip. The minor inconvenience would be worth the gains in goodwill. He untied his cravat and tossed it aside, washing his face in the basin. Then he chose fresh linen, managing a sloppy knot that he hoped looked more Byronic than inept. He glanced behind him at the open door of the wardrobe.

She’d been searching his room. The thought should have annoyed him, but instead it made him smile. His new bride had a more-than-healthy curiosity. He walked over and pulled a coat off its hanger to replace his travelling clothes. Then she’d likely have been disappointed. There was nothing to see here. No skeletons. And not, fortunately, the bodies of any previous wives. Perhaps he should reassure her, lest she think him some sort of Bluebeard.

He glanced at her portmanteau on the floor beside the bed. Two could play at that game. Although what he expected to find, he was not sure.

He laid his hand on a spare gown, a clean chemise, a night rail, trimmed with embroidery and lace. It was all to be expected. Neatly folded and cared for, even though his wife travelled without a maidservant. The case was large and very heavy for only a few days’ travel. But that was very like a woman, was it not? To pack more than was absolutely necessary. His hand stopped short of the bottom of the bag.

Books. Homer. Ovid. A book of poetry, with a ribbon tucked between the pages so that the reader would not lose her place. Not the readings of a mind given to foolish fancy.

He replaced things carefully, the way he had found them, and turned to go to meet her in the sitting room. She was as studious as she claimed, if she could not manage a few days without some sort of reading material. And it was well that she had brought her own to his house. There were many books he fully intended to read, when he had leisure. But for the life of him, he could not think what they would be, and he certainly did not have anything to read in the London house that held any enjoyment. It probably made him look a bit odd, to be without a library but well stocked in Meissen shepherds. But there was little he could do to change that now.

He approached her room in trepidation. The door was closed. Should he knock or enter freely? It was one of many decisions they would have to make together. If they did not mean to live as most married couples, then boundaries of privacy would have to be strictly observed.

At last, he settled on doing both: he knocked and then opened the door, announcing himself and thinking it damn odd that he should need to do it in his own house.

His wife looked up from a book.

‘You have found something to read?’ he said, and wished he did not sound so surprised at the fact.

‘There were a stack of books on the shelf, here. Minerva novels. And Anne Radcliff, of course.’ She glanced around her. ‘Overblown and romanticised. They are most suited to the décor.’

‘They are not mine,’ he said, alarmed that such things even existed on the premises.

‘That is a great comfort. For I would wish to rethink our bargain were they yours.’ There was a twinkle in her eye as she said it. ‘But if you favour melodrama, I suspect that this afternoon’s meetings will be quite entertaining.’

And she was correct in what she said, for the trip to his wife’s bank was most diverting. He was not familiar with the location, which was far from Bond Street, nor did the men working there know him. But it was obvious that they knew his wife and held her in respect. She was ushered into a private office before she even needed to speak her request.

When her bankers entered the room, she wasted no time on introductions, but straight away announced that she had married, and that all business matters must be turned over, post haste, to her new husband.

He could not help but enjoy the look of shock on the faces of the bankers. There was a moment of stunned silence, before the men sought to resist, arguing that the union had been most impulsive and possibly unwise. They eyed him suspiciously, and hinted at the danger of fortune hunters where such a large sum was involved. Was she sure that she was making the correct decision? Had she consulted her brother in the matter?

Adam watched as his new wife grew very still, listening in what appeared to be respectful silence. Although there were no outward signs, he suspected the look of patience she radiated was a sham. And at last, when they enquired if she had obtained her brother’s permission to wed, her cool exterior evaporated.

‘Gentlemen, I am of age, and would not have needed my brother’s permission if the decision to take a husband had taken a year instead of a day. In any case, it is too late now, for I cannot very well send the man away, explaining that our marriage was just a passing fancy on my part. Nor do I wish to.

‘May I introduce my husband, and manager of all my finances from here on, Adam Felkirk, Duke of Bellston.’

He did his best to maintain an unaffected visage, although the desire was strong to laugh aloud at the sight of the two men, near to apoplexy, bowing and calling him ‘your Grace’, and offering tea, whisky or anything he might desire, hoping to erase the words ‘fortune hunter’ from the previous conversation.

‘No, thank you. I merely wish to see the account book that holds the recent transactions on my wife’s inheritance.’

The men looked terrified now, but the account book appeared, along with a cup of tea.

Adam glanced down the row of figures, shock mingling with relief. His financial problems were solved, for there was more than enough to effect repairs on the house, and tide the property over until a more favourable season. He was equally glad that he had known nothing of the numbers involved when he had wed the girl. Considering his financial condition, he feared he’d have lost all shame, fallen at her feet, and begged her to wed him, based on what he saw before him.

He looked at the line of monthly withdrawals, increasing in amount as time passed. ‘Do you have any regular expenses that need to be met, my dear?’

‘Not really. My brother allows me a small allowance, and I take care not to exceed it. I doubt I’ll need more than twenty or thirty pounds a month.’

Which was far less than the expenditures on the account. He tapped the paper with his fingertip and glanced up at the bankers. Where was the money going? To the only man with access to the account.

Until now, that is.

Hector had not touched the principal, as of yet. But Penny had been correct in her fears. If measures were not taken, there would be no fortune left to hunt.

He smiled, as condescending and patronising as he could manage. ‘You gentlemen were wise to be concerned with the prudence of my wife’s decision. But you need concern yourself no longer. Please prepare a draft, in this amount …’ he scribbled a number in the book ‘… and send it to my bankers. I will give you the direction. The rest can remain here, as long as the investments continue to be as profitable as they have been. But under no circumstances is anyone to have access to the account other than myself.’ He glanced at Penelope. ‘Or my wife, of course. She has my permission to do as she pleases in the matter. Should she send any bills to you, please honour them immediately.’

He shot a sidelong glance at Penelope, and watched her eyes go bright and her mouth make a tiny ‘O’ of surprise.

He smiled. ‘Is that to your satisfaction, dear?’

‘Very much so.’ The smile on her face was softer than it had been, with none of the hesitance that he had seen in her from the first day. Her body relaxed enough so that her arm brushed the sleeve of his jacket.

She trusted him. At least, for now.

And it cleared the doubts in his own heart, that he had married her for her money. Her fortune could stay separate from his, and he would leave her the control of it. With the look she was giving him, he felt almost heroic.

He was quite enjoying it.

After the success at the bankers, Penny had hoped to feel more confidence when confronting her brother. But as she entered the house, she could feel all the old fears reforming in her. Living here had felt a prison, as much as a haven. And her brother’s continual reminders that this was all she would ever know, since no one would want her, had reinforced the iron bars around her.

And now, after only a few days away, the house felt strange. It was as though she were visiting a friend and not returning to her home. She had not realised how thoroughly she had put it behind her, once she made her decision. But it was comforting to think that there would be no foolish longing for the past, now that she was settling into her new life. Once she had her clothing and her things, there was no reason to return again.

She rang for servants, signifying that a maid should be sent to her room to pack her belongings, and sent Jem and another footman to the library with instructions for the crating and removal of her books and papers.

In the midst of her orders, her brother hurried into the room and seized her by the arm. ‘Penny! You have returned, at last. When I realised that you were gone I was near frantic. Do you not realise the risk to your reputation by travelling alone? Especially when you gave me no indication of where you were going. I absolutely forbid such actions in the future. I cannot believe …’ Hector appeared ready to continue in his speech without ceasing, and showed no indication that he had recognised the presence of another in the room.

It annoyed her to think that he cared more about her disobedience than he did her safety. She pulled away from him, and turned to gesture to the man in the corner. ‘Hector, may I present my husband, the Duke of Bellston. Adam, this is my brother, Hector.’ She hoped she had not hesitated too much on the word Adam. She did not wish to appear unfamiliar with the name.

Hector ran out of air, mid-sentence, taking in a great gasp before managing, ‘Husband?’

‘Yes,’ she replied as mildly as possible. ‘When last we spoke, I indicated to you that I intended to marry, to settle the question of who should control my inheritance. And so I have married.’

‘But you cannot.’

‘Of course I can. I am of age, after all.’

‘You cannot expect me to take a stranger into our home, on the basis of such a brief introduction.’

Her husband stood the rebuke mildly.

‘Of course I do not. I have come for my possessions and will be moving them to my new home as soon as is possible.’

‘Your new home.’ Apparently, her brother was having some problem following the speed of events.

‘Yes, Hector. I will be living with my husband, now that I am married.’

‘You will do nothing of the kind. I have had more than enough of your nonsense. This is what comes of too much learning. Ideas. And telling jokes that are in no way funny. You will go to your room, and I will apologise to this gentleman, whoever he may be. And tomorrow, we will all go to the solicitors and straighten out the mess you have created.’

This time, she did not even bother to count. ‘I will go to my room, Hector. To gather my clothing. From there, I mean to go to the library and the study, and empty them as well. And then I will be gone from this house and your presence. You have no power over me to stop it. And that, Hector, is what comes of not enough reading.’

His face was growing red, and he was readying a response.

And from behind her, she heard her husband, quietly clearing his throat. His voice was mildness and reason itself. ‘Perhaps, Penny, it would be best if you saw to your packing, while I speak to your brother.’

She had the most curious feeling that he had issued a command, although it showed in neither his face nor his voice.

She opened her mouth to object, and then remembered how effectively he had dealt with the bankers. If he wished her to leave the room, then perhaps there was a reason for it. It would serve no purpose, challenging him in front of her brother. That would only prove Hector’s point: that she had been foolish to marry in the first place. She blinked at Adam for a moment, then shrugged her shoulders and said, ‘Very well.’ And then she left the room, shutting the doors almost completely behind her.

Then she turned back and put her ear to the crack.

Her husband waited for a moment, giving her enough time to get to her room, she suspected. And then he waited even longer.

When the silence became oppressive, Hector blurted, ‘Now see here, sir—’

Adam responded, ‘The correct form of address when speaking to me is “your Grace”. Perhaps you did not know it, since you obviously have little acquaintance with the peerage. But since we are family now …’ disdain dripped from the last words ‘… you may call me Adam.’

Hector snorted. ‘You cannot expect me to believe that Penny has been gone from the house less than a week, and has returned not only a married woman, but a duchess.’

Adam said, ‘Your belief is not a requirement, Mr Winthorpe. The marriage exists. The bankers have been informed of it, and I have taken control of my wife’s inheritance.’

This last seemed to give her brother pause, for he took a moment before letting out a weak laugh. ‘But you cannot wish to be married to my sister. She is a nothing. A nobody.’ There was another pause, and his tone changed. ‘Albeit, a very wealthy nobody. And that could not possibly have influenced your decision when seeking such a humble bride—’

‘Stop right there.’ Adam did not shout, but the command in the tone was no longer an implication. ‘I recommend that you pause to think before speaking further.’ His voice dropped to just above a whisper. ‘Here are the facts, and you would do well to remember them. Penelope is neither a nothing, nor a nobody. She is her Grace, the Duchess of Bellston. It will do you no good to hint that I am after her fortune, since she has gained as much, if not more, than I have by the union.’

There was another long pause, to allow the facts to sink into the thick skull of her brother. And then Adam said, ‘But you have lost by her marriage, have you not? I’ve seen the books at the bank, and the withdrawals you have been making to keep your business afloat.’

Hector sputtered, ‘I’ve done nothing of the kind. Those monies were for Penelope’s expenses.’

‘Then it shall not matter to you in the least that I am willing to take the management of the monies out of your hands. I can take care of my wife’s bills without your help. You need trouble yourself no further with the management of her funds, but devote the whole of your time to business.’ Her husband’s tone clearly said, ‘Dismissed.’

Penny covered her mouth to stifle a laugh.

But her brother refused to yield all. His voice rose to near a shout. ‘All right, then. Very well. She has married and you have taken her money, and her as well. I wish you luck, your Grace, for you will find her fractious nature, her impulsive temper and her unending stubbornness to be more curse than blessing. She may pack her clothes and leave immediately, if she is so eager to do it. But she shall leave the books where they are. I have no intention of allowing her to put the contents of the family library into trunks and carry them from the house.’

Her husband seemed to consider on it, and then replied, with a neutral, ‘If she wishes it, then it shall be so.’

Her brother shouted back, ‘But it will leave the shelves empty!’

Adam responded quietly, ‘That should not present much of a problem. You are a book printer, are you not? Bring home something from work to fill the shelves. I doubt it matters much what the titles may be, if one has no intention of reading them.’

If her brother recognised the insult to his intelligence, he let it pass without comment. ‘This has nothing to do with whether I wish to read the books in question.’

‘I thought not.’

‘It is the value of the things. Do you know how many pounds has been spent to furnish that room?’

‘Quite a few, I should think. She purchased many of those books herself, did she not?’

‘When I could not manage to stop her.’

Adam’s voice was cool reason. ‘Then I see no reason that she need purchase them twice to stock the library in her new home. It is not as if she will be returning here to study.’

And still her brother would not give up. ‘See here, you. You cannot think to take her from her family.’

‘That is generally what happens when one marries,’ Adam said, in a bored drawl. ‘There is something in the Bible about it, although I cannot say I remember the words. She is cleaving unto me, now. You have nothing to say in the matter of her future.’

Penny could almost imagine the wave of his hand, as he dismissed her brother’s argument.

‘Only because you have stolen her from me,’ Hector snapped.

‘Stolen her?’ The duke laughed out loud. ‘How long have you known your sister, sir? Is there some chance that you are adopted, or that she is some changeling, recently added to your family? I have limited acquaintance with her, I’ll admit. But in that time I have learned enough to know that it would be exceptionally difficult to steal her from a place she wished to be, or to dissuade her from a path she had chosen for herself.’

‘But that does not mean that I will allow her to behave foolishly.’

She was angry before she could even remember to count, and grabbed the door handle, ready to push her way back into the room and tell her brother that, after all that had been said and done, he had no right on earth to control her.

But Adam cut in before she could move. ‘You have no authority over my wife. Penelope shall arrange for the transport of the library and the rest of her things to my townhouse. She shall do so at her own pace and in her own way. If I hear of any interference from you in the matter, if you place even the slightest obstruction in her way, I will take whatever action is necessary to thwart you, and it shall be my goal, henceforth, to see that you regret the impertinence. Are we in agreement?’ His voice held a cold fury that she had never heard before, and he was every bit the man she had imagined from The Times, so powerful that he could move the country with a few words.

Hector appeared to have been struck dumb, and so Adam answered for him. ‘Very good. Our interview is at an end. I will be waiting in the carriage, should Penelope need me for anything. Which, for your sake, Mr Winthorpe, I sincerely hope she does not.’

Which meant he would be coming out into the hall in a moment, and he would realise that she was so lost to all manners as to listen at keyholes on private conversations. And, even worse, he might see the effect his speech had upon her, for her heart was fluttering so that she could hardly breathe.

She turned and sprinted towards the library, ducking into the open door, only to collide with Jem, knocking a case of books from his arms. The sound of the crash mingled with his bark of objection at people charging around the house and not watching where they were going.

Which in no way covered the faint chuckle she heard from the hall as her husband passed by on his way to the exit.




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.




Chapter Eight


When she awoke, light was seeping through the cracks in the bed curtains, which had been drawn at some point during the night. She could hear movement, and hushed voices from the other side. She sat up and placed her ear to the crack, so that she could listen.

Her husband. Talking to a servant, who must be his valet. Arranging for someone in the staff who would serve as a lady’s maid, temporarily, at least. Perhaps permanently, since he was unsure if her Grace had servants of her own whom she wished to bring to the household. He had not discussed the matter with her.

The valet hurried away, and the door closed. She could hear her husband approaching the bed, and she pulled back from the curtain.

‘Penny?’ He said it softly, so as not to startle a sleeper.

‘Yes?’

‘May I open the curtains?’

‘Yes.’ Her voice was breathless with excitement, and she cleared her throat to cover the fact. As the light streamed in and hit her, she rubbed her eyes and yawned, trying to appear as though she had just awakened.

Adam was wrapped in a dressing gown, and she could see flashes of bare leg when she looked down. She must remember not to look down, then, for the thought that he was bare beneath his robe made her feel quite giddy.

‘Did you sleep well?’ He was solicitous.

‘Very. Thank you. Your bed is very comfortable.’ She glanced in the direction of the chair. ‘I am sorry that you did not have the same luxury.’

Which might make it sound like she had wanted him there. She fell silent.

He ignored the implication. ‘I slept better than I have in a long time, knowing that the financial future of my property is secure. Thank you.’ The last words were heartfelt, and the intimacy of them shocked her.

‘You’re welcome.’ She was in the bed of an incredibly handsome man, and he was thanking her. ‘And thank you. For yesterday. For everything.’

He smiled, which was almost as blinding as the sunlight. Why must he be so beautiful, even in the morning? A night sleeping upright in a chair had not diminished the grace of his movements or dented his good humour. And his hair looked as fine tousled by sleep as it did when carefully combed.

She dreaded to think how she must appear: pale and groggy, hair every which way, and squinting at him without her glasses. She reached for them, knocking them off the night table, and he snatched them out of the air before they hit the floor and handed them to her, then offered the other hand to help her from bed.

She dodged it, and climbed unaided to the floor, pulling on her glasses.

‘It will be all right, I think,’ he said, ignoring her slight. ‘We have survived our first day in London as man and wife. It will be easier from now on.’

Perhaps he was right. She went through the door to her own room to find it bustling with activity. Her clothing had arrived, and an overly cheerful girl named Molly was arranging a day dress for her, and had a breakfast tray warming by the fire. When she went downstairs, the first crates of books had arrived and were waiting for her in the sitting room. She had marked the ones that she expected to be the most important, opened those, and left the others lined up against a wall to obscure the decorating. The rest she could arrange on the shelves that had held the china figurines. She handed them, one piece at a time, to a horrified Jem to carry to storage, until his arms were quite full of tiny blushing courtiers, buxom maid servants and shepherds who seemed more interested in china milkmaids than in china sheep.

Jem appeared torn, unable to decide if he was more horrified by the overt femininity of the things or the possibility that he might loose his grip and smash several hundred pounds’ worth of antique porcelain.

She waved him away, insisting that it mattered not, as long as they were gone from the room and she could have the shelves empty.

She gestured with the grouping in her hand, only to glance at the thing and set it down again on the table, rather than handing it to the overloaded servant. The statue was of a young couple in court clothes from the previous century. The man was leaning against a carefully wrought birdcage, and had caught his lover around the waist, drawing her near. She was leaning into him, bosom pressed to his shoulder, her hand cupping his face, clearly on the verge of planting a kiss on to his upturned lips.

And Penny’s mind flashed back to the previous evening, and the feel of her husband’s hands as they had touched her back. What would have happened if she had turned and pressed her body to his?

Jem shifted from foot to foot in the doorway, and she heard the gentle clink of porcelain.

‘Never mind,’ she said. ‘You have more than enough to carry. I will keep this last one for now. Perhaps it can serve as a bookend.’ She placed it back on the shelf, pushing it to the side to support a stack of books. The Maid of Hamlet. The Orphan of the Rhine. She’d kept the Minerva novels. Her lust-crazed Germans were supporting a shelf full of fainting virgins.

She sank back on to a chair, defeated by rampant romance.

There was a commotion in the hall, breaking through the silence of the room, and coming closer as she listened, as though a door had opened and a dinner party had overflowed its bounds. She could hear laughter, both male and female, and her husband by turns laughing and attempting to quiet the others.

At last there was a knock on the closed door of her room before Adam opened it and said with amused exasperation, ‘Penelope, my friends wish to meet you.’

She did not know how she imagined the nobility might behave, but it had never been like this. The crowd pushed past the duke and into the room without waiting for permission to enter. The women giggled and pulled faces at the great piles of books, and one man leaned against a pile of open crates, nearly upending them on to the floor. Only the last to enter offered her anything in way of apology: he gave an embarrassed shrug that seemed to encompass the bad manners of his friends while saying that there was little he could do about it one way or the other.

‘So this is where you’ve been keeping her, trapped in the sitting room with all these dusty books.’ A pretty blonde woman in an ornate, flowered bonnet ran a critical finger over her library.

‘Really, Barbara—’ the laugh in Adam’s response sounded false ‘—you make it sound as though I have her locked in her room. I am not keeping her anywhere.’

‘She is keeping you, more like.’ An attractive redhead made the comment, and Penny stiffened.

The woman clarified. ‘I imagine the bonds of new love are too strong to break away, Adam. I wonder if you will manage to leave your house.’

Penny returned her cold smile. That had not been what she’d meant at all. It had been a slight on her wealth, followed by sarcasm. She was sure of it.

But Adam ignored it, smiling as if nothing had been said, and Penny vowed to follow his example.

Her husband gestured to his friends. ‘Penelope, may I present Lord John and Lady Barbara Minton, Sir James and Lady Catherine Preston and my oldest, and dearest, friend, Lord Timothy Colton, and his wife, the Lady Clarissa.’ He gestured to the cruel redhead and the man who had acknowledged Penny earlier. Adam smiled proudly at the man, and then looked to Penny. ‘You will get along well with Tim, I think, for he is also a scholar. Botany. Horticulture. Plants and such. No idea what he’s doing half the time. Quite beyond me. But I am sure it is very important.’ Adam waved his hand dismissively, and Tim laughed.

Penny didn’t understand the reason for her husband’s pretended ignorance or the meaning of the joke. But clearly it was an old one, for the others found it most amusing. The room dissolved in mirth. It was like finding herself in a foreign land, where everyone spoke a language that she could not comprehend.

When their laughter had subsided, Clarissa spoke again. ‘And what shall we call you?’ The woman reached out to her, and took both her hands in what seemed to be a welcoming grip. Her fingers were ice cold.

‘I know,’ said Lady Barbara. ‘We could call you Pen. For Adam says you like to write. And you were a book printer’s daughter.’

Lady Catherine rolled her eyes. ‘You write on paper, Bunny. Not in books.’

Clarissa looked down at Penny with a venomous smile. ‘Surely not “Penny”, for you are not so bright as all that.’ There was a dangerous pause. ‘Your hair, silly. It is I who should be called Penny.’ She released Penny’s hands and touched a coppery curl, smiling past her to look at Adam.

Penny watched, with a kind of distant fascination. Clarissa’s gesture had been blatant flirtation, and she seemed not to care who noticed it. Yet her husband, Timothy, paid it no attention. He seemed more interested in the books on the table before him than his wife’s behaviour to another man.

Adam ignored it as well, avoiding Clarissa’s gaze while answering, ‘But it is not your name, is it, Clare? Penny was named for the loyal wife of Odysseus. And she is worth far more than copper.’

There was an awkward pause.

Clarissa responded, ‘So we assumed. We can hope that you are worth your weight in gold, Pen, for you will need to be to equal your husband’s spending.’

And then they all laughed.

One, two, three … Penny felt shame colouring her skin compounded by anger at Clarissa and her own husband, and the pack of jackals that he had allowed into her study to torment her. She wanted nothing more than to run from the room, but it would only have made the situation worse. So she forced a laugh as well.

Her response would not have mattered, for now that she had wounded, Clarissa ignored her again and returned her attention to the duke. ‘Darling Adam, it is so good to see you back amongst us. It is never the same when you are not here. London is frightfully boring without you, is it not, Timothy?’

Her own husband was looking at her with a sardonic twist to his smile. ‘Would that you found such pleasure in my company as you do in Adam’s, my darling.’ He turned to Adam. ‘But I missed you as well, old friend. Without you, times have been sober, as have I. We must put an end to that sorry condition as soon as possible. White’s? Boodle’s? Name your poison, as they say.’

‘White’s, I think. This evening?’

‘Of course.’

Clarissa stamped her foot. ‘You will do nothing of the kind. I expect you to dine in this evening. With us.’ She made little effort to include her husband in her invitation. And none to include Penny, literally turning away to shut her out from the group.

Adam eluded her gaze again, speaking to the room rather than the woman before him. ‘We would, but I believe my wife has other plans.’ There was the subtlest emphasis on ‘we’, to remind Clarissa of the change in status. And then he glanced at Penny, waiting for her to confirm what he had said.

She tried to imagine herself responding as Clarissa had. She would say something clever, about how divine it would be to spend an evening at table with a woman who her husband held so dear. And there would be the same ironic tone that the others were using, to indicate an undercurrent of flirtation, and proof that she knew what was what. It would anger Adam, but he would admire her fearlessness. And it would enrage Clarissa. Which would be strangely pleasing, for Penny found herself taking an instant dislike to the woman.

Instead, she replied haltingly, ‘Yes, I fear I am most busy. With my studies. And will be unable to get away.’

‘You cannot leave your books.’ Clarissa turned and glanced down at her, then looked back at the others as if Penny’s social ineptitude had been more than confirmed. ‘But you do not mind if Adam comes without you, of course.’ The woman dared her to respond in the negative.

And here was where she must admit defeat, ceding the field with the battle barely begun. Although why she would feel the need to fight for this, she had no idea.

Before she could answer, Adam spoke for her. ‘My darling wife would have my best interests at heart, no matter what she might say, for she wishes to see me happy. And since I have already expressed a desire to go to White’s with Tim, she would not think to drag me into mixed society, no matter how pleasant it might be for her.’ He glanced back to his friend. ‘Eight o’clock, then?’

If Tim was relieved, he did not show it, only smiling in acknowledgement of the plan. And then he smiled at Penny with unexpected warmth. ‘Do not worry, my dear. No gels allowed at White’s. I will keep your new husband on the straight and narrow. As long as you have no objection to cards and whisky.’

Penny searched again for a clever reply that would not come. ‘Of course, not. Whatever Adam wishes …’

Clarissa was clearly piqued. ‘It does not do, Penelope, to give a man latitude in these things. It leads them to take one too much for granted.’

Adam snapped back at her, ‘On the contrary, Clarissa, a man is more likely to give his affection to one who can manage, on occasion, to put the needs of others before her own selfish desires.’ Adam was looking straight into the woman’s eyes for once, and Penny realised, with sickening clarity, why he had been avoiding the contact.

They were lovers. They had been, or soon would be—it mattered not which. While Adam might smile at the wives of the other men in the room and laugh at their foolishness, he dared not acknowledge Clarissa, for when he looked at her, the guilt was plain in his eyes for all who cared to see.

After the brief lapse, he looked away from her again, and proceeded to act as though she were not in the room with them.

Penny looked to the others, watching the silent messages flash between them. Those who were positioned to see Adam’s expression passed the truth to those who could not, with furtive glances and hungry smiles. Only Timothy appeared oblivious to what had happened, his attention absorbed by a volume of Aristotle.

And then the moment passed, and Adam stepped around Clarissa to stand behind his own wife. ‘I am lucky to have married such a gracious woman, and hope never to take the fact for granted.’

Penny felt the mortification rising in her, forming a barrier between her and the outside. Was she expected to put her needs so far to the side that she must condone his adultery?

And then her husband put his hand upon her shoulder, as a gesture of affection and solidarity, and she jumped, as though she had been burned.

There were more sidelong glances and more wicked smiles. Suddenly Lord Timothy cut through the silence, shutting his book with a snap. ‘Yes, Adam. We must offer you congratulations on your amazing luck. And it is good that you recognise it, for a man is truly blessed when he has the love and respect of such an intelligent woman.’ He turned to the others in his party. ‘And now, ladies and gentleman, we should be going, for we are quite destroying the peace of the household and keeping her Grace from her studies.’

‘Let me show you out.’ Adam took the lead, and the others fell obediently in behind him. Clarissa made as if to stay behind, but her husband held the door for her, making it impossible for her to linger.

When she was gone, Lord Timothy turned back into the room, and favoured Penny with another brief, encouraging smile. ‘Good day to you, Penelope. And good fortune as well.’ And then he was gone, shutting the door behind him.

She sank back on to the settee, weak with confusion. Adam had seemed so kind. He was good to her. Affectionate, in a distant sort of way. And in a short time it had become easy to imagine the affection blossoming into something warmer. Never passion. She could not hope for something so ridiculous. But love, in the classical sense. A respect for each other that might lead to a mutually satisfying relationship.

But how could she ever trust a man that would betray his best friend? And what did he mean for her, in any case? They had talked in Scotland about living as amiable strangers. And then he had paraded his lover under her nose, allowed her to be the butt of his friends’ jokes, then glossed it over with fine and empty words about mutual respect.

If this was how fashionable society behaved, then she had been right in her decision to turn her back on it. But what was she to do if society hunted her out and continued to harass her?

She could hear her husband’s step in the hall, and prayed that, for once, he would abide by his earlier promises, go to his study, and leave her in peace.

But instead he opened her door without preamble and shut it tightly behind him, then glared at her. He was angry. She could see it flashing in his eyes, and noted the stiffness of his back, as though his movements were containing some sudden physical outburst. His tone was curt. ‘I wish to speak of what just happened here.’

‘Nothing happened, as far as I noticed.’

‘Exactly.’ He frowned. ‘And those around us took note of the nothing. It will be quite the talk of the town.’

‘They took note of so many things, I am at a loss as to which one you refer to. Could it have been when you informed them of my monetary worth to you?’

‘I misspoke. I had intended to praise your virtues, and the words went wrong.’

‘Perhaps because I have so few virtues to extol. Since you cannot discuss my birth or my beauty, I should thank you on the compliment to my purse.’

‘Believe me, Penny, I do not wish to call further attention to your wealth. It is not a point of pride that my friends suspect I married beneath me to get to your money.’

‘Beneath you?’ she snapped. ‘When I discovered you, you were face down in a stable yard and under the horses. To marry beneath yourself, you would have to look quite a bit further than the daughter of a cit. There was not much lower you could have sunk.’

He flinched. ‘I will avoid fulsome praise of you in the future, for I have no talent for flattery. In any case, it is wasted on one who makes no attempt to hide her distaste of me.’

‘I have a distaste of you? Whatever do you mean?’

He glared at her. ‘I might have been face down in the muck when you found me, but in marrying me, you got control of your inheritance and bagged a title. You understand, do you not, that many men would not be nearly so tractable as I have been towards you? We get on quite well, considering. And I did not mean to insult you in any way, nor do I plan to in the future. But I expect the same in return.

‘It is one thing, madam, to refuse my affection, when we are alone. You avoided my hand this morning, but I thought, “Perhaps she is shy. I must give her time to trust me.” But it is quite another thing to shrink from my merest touch when we are in public.’

‘I did nothing of the kind.’

He reached to touch her hand, and she pulled away from him.

He smiled, coldly. ‘Of course not, my dear. You are just as welcoming now as you were before. I touched your shoulder, and you looked to all the world as if I had struck you.’

‘I thought it was agreed—’

‘When I agreed to a marriage in name only, I did not realise that you found me so utterly repugnant that you would deny me all physical contact. Nor did I expect that you would make the fact known to my friends.’

‘You do not repel me.’ No matter how much she might wish he did.

‘Oh, really? Then you had best prove it to me. Take my hand and assure me.’

She stared at the hand he held out to her, the long fingers curled to beckon, but she made no move to take it.

He nodded. ‘I see. Most comforting.’

‘I do not see why it is so important to you.’ You have her attention. Why must you have mine as well?

He stared back at her until she met his eyes. ‘I am a proud man. I do not deny it. It does not reflect well on either of us to have the full details of our relationship as public gossip. We are married, and I hope to remain so. The time will pass more easily for both of us if you can bring yourself to be at ease in my company, at least when we are in public. I will not bother you at home any more than is necessary.’

There was frustration and anger in his eyes, but they were still the same compelling blue, and just as hard to resist as they had been when she had trusted his motives. ‘How can I do this?’ she asked herself, as much as she did him.

His shoulders relaxed a little. ‘You could, on occasion, smile while in public. I would not expect unceasing mirth. Merely as pleasant a face as you wear when we are alone. And if my hand should happen to brush yours, you need not flinch from it.’ He raised his hand in oath. ‘I promise to treat you with the care and respect due my wife and my duchess.’ And then he offered it to her again.

She closed her eyes, knowing in her heart what his respect for his wife was worth, if he could not respect the marriage of another. Then she reached tentatively out to put her hand in his.

She heard him sigh, and his fingers closed over hers, stroking briefly before pushing her hand back until they were palm to palm and he could link fingers with her. He squeezed. ‘There. Feel? There is nothing to be afraid of. I mean you no harm.’ His other hand came to her face, and the fingertips brushed lightly against her cheek. ‘I only wish for you to leave others with the impression that there is some warm feeling between us. Nothing more. That perhaps we might share something other than an interest in your money. Help me undo my foolish words.’ His hand touched her hair and stroked to the back of her neck, and he moved close enough so she could feel his breath on her skin, and the change in the air against her lips as he spoke.

‘This is much better, is it not?’ His voice was low and husky, as she had never heard it before, barely more than a whisper.

She opened her eyes. He was right. When he was this close and looking at her, it ceased to matter how he looked at other women. She could feel the magnetic pull to be even closer. She had but to lean in a few inches, and his lips would be upon hers.

Which was madness. She had to resist yet another urge to jump away from him in alarm, and watched as his pupils shrank, and the soft smile on his face returned to its normal, more businesslike form. He withdrew slowly, with easy, unruffled grace. ‘Very good. That is much more what I had hoped for. I do not expect you to fall passionately into my arms as a false display for visitors. But if we could at least give the appearance that we are on friendly terms, I would be most grateful.’ His fingers untwined and his hand slipped away from hers.

‘Most certainly. For I do wish to be on friendly terms with you in more than appearance.’ She sighed, and hoped it sounded like a longing for her books, and not for renewed contact. ‘And now, if you will excuse me? I must return to work.’

‘Of course.’

Adam left the room, closing the door behind him, and moved quickly down the hall. Hell and damnation, it had been an unbearable morning. First, the invasion of his friends, before he’d had a chance to explain to Penny how things were likely to be. Although she probably suspected, what with the way Clarissa had been making a fool of herself, with no care for the fact that Tim was in the room with them.

Penny must think him a complete fraud. She had looked around the room, at his friends and at Clarissa, and had seen it all. She’d read his character in a glance and must regret her decision.

And he, who had always been so sure of his words, even when nothing else would go right for him, had stumbled so egregiously as to let it appear that he had married her for money. If possible, it was even worse than the truth to say such a thing. He had allowed her no dignity at all. And he had seen the mocking light in the eyes of his friends when she had flinched from his touch.

He had been foolishly angry, at himself and at Clarissa, and had taken it out on Penny for not offering affection that he had not earned. But what had he been about, just now? Had he been trying to teach her some kind of lesson? Hopefully, it had been lost on her, if he had. He should have come back to her and taken her hand in a most friendly fashion, and tried to mend the breach he had caused. He should have assured her that although he had been guilty of grave transgressions, it was all in the past, and that he meant to be a better man.

Instead, he had touched her hair and forgotten all. What sense was it to talk when there were soft lips so close, waiting to be kissed? And she had closed her eyes so sweetly, allowing him to observe the fine lashes and the smooth cheek and the sweetness of her breath as it mingled with his. It was a matter of inches, a bare nod of the head to bring them into contact with his own, and to slip his tongue into her mouth and kiss her until she reacted to his touch with the eagerness he expected in a wife.

He shook his head again. Had he forgotten whom he was speaking of? If he needed to persuade his own wife to let him hold her hand, then passion-drugged nights were not likely to be in the offing.

Not while he remained at home, at any rate. Perhaps it had been too long since last he visited his mistress. A man had urges, after all. And he was neglecting his if his own wife began to tempt him more than someone else’s. An afternoon relaxing in the arms of his paramour would clear his mind, which was clouded with misdirected lust, and make it easier to decide what to do about the impossible relationship with Clarissa and the unwelcome attraction to Penelope.

He called for a carriage and set out to regain control of his emotions.

As he passed out the door, he saw Penny’s manservant, who stood at the entrance to the house, wearing the Bellston livery as though it were as great an honour as a night in the stocks. He looked at Adam and bowed with as much respect as the other servants, while conveying the impression that the lady of the house was worth two dukes.

Adam glared back at him. ‘Jem, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, your Grace.’ And another bow.

Damn the man. Adam fished in his pocket and came up with a handful of banknotes and forced them into the servant’s hand. ‘I have an errand for you. Go to the bookseller’s. And buy my wife that damned copy of Homer.’




Chapter Nine


In the two years they had been together, Adam’s mistress, Felicity, had been a most accommodating and entertaining companion. But now, as he looked at her, he could not seem to remember why. She was beautiful, of course. There was little reason to have her otherwise. While she might not be the most enchanting conversationalist, he employed her to listen, not to talk. And so it mattered little.

She greeted him as she always had, with a passionate kiss. Her perfect hands reached out to stroke him and to smooth his brow.

And to search his pockets, as well. ‘What did you being me, Adam?’ Her smile was as satisfied as a cat’s.

He smiled back. ‘And why must I have brought you anything?’ Although, of course, he had.

‘Because you always do, my darling. I have come to expect it. And there is the little matter of your recent marriage.’ She experimented with a pout, but her heart was not in it. ‘You could at least have told me your plans. Even though it does not change what we share, it is not pleasant to be surprised when reading The Times.’

He nodded. ‘I am sorry. I never intended for my situation to change so suddenly, or I would have forewarned you.’

She nodded. ‘It was love at first sight, then.’ Clearly, she did not believe it any more than he did, but it was sweet of her to give him the benefit of the doubt.

‘Rather. Yes.’

‘Then, let us celebrate.’ She kissed him again with an ardour guaranteed to arouse.

But the irony of the situation washed over him, and it was as though he were watching the kiss from a distance, rather than being an active participant in it. To be celebrating one’s wedding in the arms of a Cyprian was probably sin enough for God to strike him dead on the spot. When their lips parted, he laid his against her ear and murmured, ‘Then you no longer wish to see your gift?’

‘I wish to see it, if you wish to show it to me,’ she said, the most co-operative woman in his life.

He guided her fingers to the breast pocket of his jacket, to the package he had purchased on the way to her flat.

She was immediately distracted and withdrew the bracelet from the jewel box in his pocket. ‘Adam, it is magnificent. The size of the diamonds. And the clarity.’ She examined it with the eye of a professional. ‘Th-thank you. It is quite the nicest thing you have ever brought me.’

He must have chosen well, if he had made a whore stammer. ‘I am glad you appreciate it.’

For it cost me more than all your other gifts put together. Now that I can borrow from my wife’s purse, money does not matter. And she will not care that I am here, for I have bought her a book. The truth sickened him, even as he thought it. And again, it was as though he was viewing the scene from a distance.

His mind might be shamed by what he had done, but his body cared not, and awaited the reward forthcoming after a gift.

And his mouth agreed with neither of them. As though he had no control over it, it announced, ‘Yes. Of course. I thought, under the circumstances, an extra expenditure was called for. For you see …’

And his mouth proceeded, unbidden, to explain that now that he was married, their relationship had indeed changed. Since it was unlikely that he would be able to spend much time in her presence, it was hardly fair to keep her. The lavish gift was meant as a parting token. The apartment would be available for her use until such time …

His body howled in disappointment, and called him all kinds of fool, but still the words would not stop. And with each one, his conscience felt lighter.

His mistress was taking the whole thing annoyingly well.

She shrugged. ‘I suspected as much. When a man gets it into his head to marry, his priorities change. And we have been together for quite some time, have we not?’

He started. She sounded bored with his attentions. The fact that she bored him as well was small consolation.

‘And you have always been most considerate of me, and very generous of spirit. Should you need similar companionship in the future, I would not hesitate to recommend you as a protector.’

It sounded almost as if she was giving him references. ‘And I, you.’ He stuttered. ‘Recommend, I mean. Should you need …’

He returned to his townhouse, numb with shock. The day was not turning out as planned. His old friends annoyed him. He’d just denied himself an afternoon of pleasure for no logical reason. And he still had no idea how to deal with his new wife. He returned home, because he could think of nowhere else to go. There was no joy in lunching alone, but his clubs would be too full of people, asking questions he did not desire to answer. At least in his own house he could have the consolation of solitude.

He was over the threshold before he remembered that he no longer lived alone. He had handed his hat and stick to the servant, and was halfway down the hall when he heard the rattle of tea things from the sitting room. Her door was open.

Too late, then, to take back his hat and back out of the door. Perhaps she would not notice if he quietly went to his rooms.

And then his wife peered into the hall. ‘I was just sitting down to tea. Would you care to join me?’

‘Thank you.’ Once again, his mouth had said something that came as a surprise to him.

‘I will have the butler bring another cup. You look in need of refreshment. Come. Sit down.’ And she graciously welcomed him to sit in his own home.

Her home as well, he reminded himself. She had every right to be taking tea in the room he had promised was solely for her use. And she was performing her duty as wife to see that he was provided with his. What right did he have to complain?

He sat down on the sofa next to her and waited in silence, while she pulled a tiny table closer to him and prepared his cup as she’d seen him take it. ‘Biscuit?’

He stared at the unfamiliar thing in front of him.

She responded without his asking, ‘I am accustomed to take sweets in the afternoon. These are a favourite of mine. I find the lemon zest in them most refreshing, so I have given the recipe to Cook. But if you would prefer something more substantial …’

‘No. This is fine. Thank you.’

She was staring at him now. And he raised his eyes from his cup, to stare back at her.

‘I am sorry for suggesting it,’ she remarked, ‘but is something the matter? You seem rather out of sorts.’

‘What business is it of yours?’ he snapped. And immediately regretted his outburst.

She was unfazed. ‘Only that, earlier in the day, you said you wished to be friends.’

‘I said I wished to appear to be friends. That is an entirely different matter.’

Again, she was unfazed, but answered thoughtfully, ‘As you wish. Although it is sometimes easier to keep up the appearance, if an actual friendship exists.’ There was no tartness in her voice. Merely a statement of fact.

He rubbed his brow with his hand. ‘I apologise. Of course, you are right. I had no call to snap at you.’

‘As you wish. I was not offended by it. It is I who should apologise to you for intruding on your peace. I merely wished to thank you for sending Jem to get my book. It was nice that you remembered.’ She fell silent and allowed him to enjoy his tea.

But the silence was almost more discomforting than the noise, for it allowed him to feel the guilt again, although he could not imagine what it was that pained him.

‘You are not disturbing my peace, Penny. But I fear I disturbed yours. I think—it may be possible that I am not comfortable when at peace. I must always be doing something to keep back the quiet. Thus, I released my ill-behaved friends on you this morning.’

She chuckled. ‘We are an unsuitable pair, are we not?’

‘Opposites attract.’ But he could not manage to sound as sure as he wished.

‘But at least our political views agree. It would be most difficult to respect you if—’

‘Our politics?’ It was his turn to laugh. ‘To what purpose does a woman have political views?’

‘To no purpose, other than that I live in this country, and am concerned with how it progresses. While I am not allowed to vote, there is nothing to prevent me from reading the speeches and governmental proceedings in The Times. That I cannot do anything to forward my views is no fault of mine.’ She cast her eyes downwards, and then favoured him with a sidelong glance through her lashes. ‘As a weak woman, I must pray that the country is in good hands.’

He felt the small thrill along his spine that he always got when a woman was trying to capture his attention. Could it be? He looked at her again. There was a faint smile on her face, and an even fainter flush on her pale skin.

His wife was flirting with him. Over the proceedings of the House of Lords.

It was an unusual approach, and unlikely to be successful. It would be easy enough to prove that she knew nothing of the subject with a few simple questions. And then, if she truly wished to flatter him, she could return to safer subjects favoured by other women of his female acquaintance: the colour of his eyes, or the cut of his coat and how well it favoured his shoulders. ‘So you agree with my politics, do you?’

‘Most definitely. Your grasp of economy is most erudite.’

‘And you feel that the country is competently governed? For having seen the political process up close, I sometimes have my doubts.’

‘Well, as far as I can tell, Lord Beaverton is a fool,’ she said. ‘He has little understanding of domestic trade, and even less of international issues. And he seems to disagree most vehemently with you on the subject of cotton imports.’

‘Because he has interests in India,’ Adam supplied. ‘He is feathering his own nest.’

‘Well, your interchange with him sounded most spirited. Although, if you could clarify a certain point …’

He had wondered when she would allow him to speak, for she seemed to have no understanding of the conversational gambit that encouraged a woman to listen more than she spoke. Her first question was followed by another, and then another. And some were of a level of complexity that he was required to refer to a gazetteer in his study, and other references as well.

And soon it seemed easier just to move the tea things and conversation to his desk. He ceded her the chair, for he sometimes found it easier to think while on his feet, and she peppered him with questions while he paced the room.

There was a discreet knock at the door, and the butler entered. ‘Your Grace? You have guests.’

A head appeared around the back of the servant. Tim was there, and he could see other friends crowding behind him in the hall. ‘Have you forgotten, Adam? Dinner at the club?’

He glanced at the clock on the mantel. How had it got to be so late? ‘It will be the work of a moment, and I will be ready to go.’ He glanced down at Penny. ‘Of course, if you wish, I will cancel.’

She shook her head. ‘That is all right. I prefer to remain at home.’ He thought he detected a trace of wistfulness in her answer.

‘If you are sure?’

She nodded again, gathering her tea things from his desk. ‘I should be going back to my room, after all. I meant to accomplish more today.’

‘I am sorry if I distracted you. Until tomorrow, then.’ And before he knew what he was doing, he’d bent and kissed her on the cheek.

She turned as pink as the walls of her sitting room, but she did not flinch from him. In fact, the smile he received in reward was quite charming, before she remembered that there were others present, and hurried across the hall and into her study, closing the door.

In retrospect, he’d have been better to have remained at home, for that seemed to be where his mind resided. The strange day only served to accent the commonness of the evening. The boring conversation and stale jokes of his friends were punctuated with exclamations of ‘Adam, why must you be so glum?’

The constant reminder that he was not himself only served to make his mood darker.

When they were at cards, and Minton had presented some outlandish political position, Adam had snapped, ‘Really, John, if I wished to talk politics, I’d have stayed home with my wife. She, at least, has some idea of what she is talking about.’

There was an amused murmur in the crowd around him, as though he had confirmed to the men around him that his sudden marriage had addled his mind. Only Tim looked at him and nodded with approval.

Soon after, a servant arrived, bearing a note on a salver for Tim. His friend unfolded the paper, grew pale, and asked a servant for his hat and gloves. ‘I must make my apologies. I am called home. There is an emergency.’

‘Nothing serious, I hope,’ Adam said.

‘I suspect it is little Sophie. She has been sick again. And I am a little worried.’ Judging by Tim’s agitation, minor worry did not describe his true state of mind.

Adam stood up. ‘I will go with you. We will take my carriage to save time, and I will return home once your mind is at rest.’

But on arrival at the Colton home, they discovered the true nature of the emergency. All the lights were blazing, and from the salon came the sound of voices, laughter, and a soprano warbling along with the pianoforte.

Tim swore softly and with vehemence threw his hat into a corner and stalked into the room with Adam following in his wake.

His wife seized him by the arm, forcing a drink into his hand and announced to the gathering, ‘Here they are! As I told you, they were detained.’

Adam was close enough to hear Tim murmur to his wife, ‘You knew my intentions, and yet you brought me home to play host to a gathering that is none of my making.’

She responded through clenched teeth. ‘And you knew my intentions. I wished for you and your friend to dine at home this evening. Do not cross me again, or you shall live to regret it.’

‘More so than I do our marriage?’ Tim laughed loud enough for the guests to hear, although they could not make out his words. ‘That would be an impressive feat, madam.’

‘You know how creative I can be.’ She turned away from Tim, and reached for Adam, linking her arm in his and pulling him forwards. ‘Come along, Adam. Do not think you can escape so easily. Have a drink with us before you go.’ She was pressing against him in a way that must be obvious to her husband, and smiling up at him too brightly.

He eased free of her grasp, stomach churning, unable to look his friend in the eye. ‘A glass of wine, then. Only one. And then I must be going home.’

Clarissa said, loud enough for all to hear, ‘Ah yes. Hurrying home to your bride, Adam. Just when will she be making an appearance in society? People are beginning to think that the woman is a product of your overheated imagination.’

‘You know full well, Clare, that she wished to remain at home, for you spoke to her this morning.’

‘But, Adam, everyone is dying to meet her. I have told them so much about her. They are aflame with curiosity. Penelope is the daughter of a cit,’ she informed the group gathered around them. ‘And from what I’ve been told, she is very rich. But she will not mix with us, I’m afraid. She is far too busy to be bothered. Adam’s wife is a bluestocking.’ The last was said with enough pity to make the other revelations pale in comparison.

He was expected to say something at this point, but was at a loss as to what. Most of what Clarissa had said was perfectly true, although it sounded far worse coming from her mouth. And she had probably used his absence to embroider what facts she had with as many scurrilous fictions as she could invent. So he seized upon the one thing he could safely refute. ‘Really, Clarissa. You make her sound so exclusionist that she should be a patroness at Almack’s. She is at home tonight, reading The Odyssey in the original Greek. I bought her the book this afternoon as a wedding gift. But she’ll mix with society soon enough.’

And then, he could not help himself—he added a fabrication of his own. ‘We are planning a ball, and I suspect most of you will be invited to it. Then you can meet her and see for yourself.’

The crowd nodded, mollified, and there was an undercurrent of curiosity in the gossip that stole the thunder from Clarissa’s tales. Bellston rarely entertained. The new duchess might be an eccentric, but no one would dare comment on the fact if it meant losing the duke’s favour and missing a chance to attend an event that would be eagerly anticipated by everyone of importance in London.

Everyone except the Duchess of Bellston.

Penny sat at the vanity in her bedroom, which she had transformed, with the help of a strong lamp, into a makeshift writing desk. The work had seemed to fly this evening, with words flowing out of her mind and on to paper as easily as if the text were already in English and she was only copying down what she saw. Perhaps it had been the gift of the book that had inspired her. Adam could be so effortlessly kind that she scolded herself for thinking ill of him earlier in the day.

Or perhaps the intellectual stimulation of strong tea and good conversation had freed her thoughts.

That was all it had been, of course. Any stimulation she might have felt, beyond her intellect, was girlish fancy. She had always admired the Duke of Bellston. To see the actual man in front of her, moved by his subject matter until he’d all but forgotten her existence, was more invigorating than she’d imagined. He’d invited her into his study, allowing her past a barrier of intimacy that she had not expected to cross, and for a time she’d felt she was very much in his confidence.

And then he had kissed her. Thank the Lord that their conversation had been at an end, for she doubted that she would have been able to string two thoughts together after that buss on the cheek.

She had gone back to her sitting room and curled up on the sofa and opened the book, ready to enjoy his gift, only to have her eyes drawn, again and again, to the kissing couple on the bookshelf. She must have looked as dazed and eager as that when he’d left her.

And it had not stopped him from going out, she reminded herself, returning to cool logic. Not that there was anything wrong with being apart in the evenings. How would she get any work done if he forced her to accompany him everywhere, like a dog on a leash? She enjoyed her work.

And she had been quite satisfied with her progress once she left the sitting room, which seemed to attract foolish fantasy like a normal library attracted cobwebs. She could work without fear of interruption in her bedroom.

Certainly without fear of interruption by her husband. If he preferred to be elsewhere, in the company of others than herself? That had been their plan, had it not? She could hardly blame him for it. An evening of cards at an all-male club was hardly cause for jealousy on her part.

And if she was not mistaken, he was arriving home; through the open window she heard the sound of a carriage stopping in front of the house, and the faint sound of her husband’s voice as the footman greeted him at the front door. She glanced at the clock. Barely eleven.

She had not expected him so soon. It had been later than this when they’d returned to the house on the previous evening, and he’d proclaimed it early. Was tonight’s behaviour unusual?

Not that she should care. She hardly knew the man, and his schedule was his own affair.

But he had come home. Not to her, precisely. But he was home, all the same. Perhaps it would not be too forward to go downstairs in search of a cup of tea, and pass by the door to his study to see if he remained up. She got out of her chair, reached to tighten the belt of her dressing gown, and, without thinking, straightened her hair. Then she laughed at herself for the vanity of it.

With her hand on the doorknob, she stopped and listened. But, no. There was no need to seek him. He was climbing the stairs, for she could hear him on the landing, and then he was coming down the hall carpet toward his room. She waited for the sound of his bedroom door, opening and closing.

It did not come. He had walked past his room, for she had been unconsciously counting the steps and imagining him as he walked.

And then he stopped, just on the other side of her door.

She waited for the knock, but none came. Perhaps he would call out to her, to see if she was asleep, though he must know she was not, for the light of her lamp would be visible under the door.

If she were a brave woman, she would simply open the door and go after the cup of tea she had been imagining. Then she could pretend to be surprised to see him, and inquire what it was that he wanted. She might even step into the hall, and collide with his body, allowing him to reach out a hand to steady her. Perhaps he would laugh, and she would neglect to step away, and she would know if he merely wished to continue their discussion, or if there was some other purpose for his visit.

But she was not a brave woman, and she was foolish to think such things, since they made no sense at all. There was a perfectly logical explanation for his being there, which he would no doubt tell her in the morning at breakfast. If she waited, she could save herself the embarrassment of making too big a thing out of something so small.

But all the same, she kissed the palm of her hand, and then silently pressed it to the panel of the door, holding it very near where the cheek of a tall man might be.

Then she heard his body shift, and his steps retreating down the hall, and the opening and closing of the bedroom door beside her own.




Chapter Ten


When she woke the next morning, she found herself listening for sounds from the next room and hoping for a knock on the connecting door. Surely Adam would come to her as soon as he was awake, and explain his behaviour the previous evening?

But she heard only silence. Perhaps he was a late sleeper, or simply did not wish to be disturbed.




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