The next two weeks passed in a blur of activity. Wes planted the fields through rain and sun and Penny continued to work on the house. The Harveys sent several wagons of furniture, Lady Harvey insisting they were redecorating.
She’d also penned Penny a long note, expressing regret for not having done more that past few years. Penny wrinkled her brow and had written back telling Lady Harvey not to worry. She’d had wonderful friends and her and Lord Harvey had done more than enough. As it was, Penny would have to spend several lifetimes making the favors they’d bestowed upon her up to them.
By the time the day of the dinner party arrived, Penny wasn’t sure how to feel. On the one hand, Wes had kept every promise. They ate dinner together, went to bed together, spent long hours wrapped in one another’s arms. But the idea of going to Catherine Kitteridge’s home filled her with dread.
The dress that Lady Harvey had sent was a lovely shade of silver blue taffeta and silk. She’d been able to alter it so that it fit her perfectly. Mrs. Welsh had sent for her sister to help dress Penny’s hair. She let out a deep, gratifying sigh. At least when she faced Lady Kitteridge she’d look the part of Wes’s countess.
She spent hours preparing and as she’d made her way down the stairs, Penny thought she was as ready as she’d ever be to face Catherine Kitteridge. Wes had bathed and dressed and gone downstairs as she’d prepped, and he stood at the bottom of the steps as she came to the landing.
He made a slow perusal from her head to her toes and then back again. Even with a staircase between them, his gaze smoldered and heat flushed her skin, making her hot all over. She smoothed her skirts. “How do I look?”
She hoped well enough that he’d only have eyes for her.
Chapter Eighteen
Wes’s blood rushed in his ears as he looked up at his wife. He wanted to strip all of that clothing off her and kiss every bit of her body. She’d always been beautiful. But like this, she was breathtaking. He said a silent prayer of gratitude she hadn’t been properly clothed for a season. She would have set London on fire. “You look ravishing. As though that dress was made to match your eyes and skim your curves.”
“It was.” She gave him a cheeky grin.
“Penny,” his voice came out rough as he held out his hand. He needed to touch her now. “How did I manage to convince you to marry me?”
Her smile grew as she started toward him. “You made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”
True. His gut clenched. More and more he regretted the way they’d begun. He wished he had wooed her. Long walks in the park, carriage rides and flowers tucked in her hair. She deserved that, and perhaps, she’d be more secure in his feelings toward her. They grew with each passing day and he was convinced that his wife had stolen his heart. “Don’t remind me.”
Her brow crinkled. “What do you mean? Do you think this isn’t working out? Our arrangement?”
“Of course it’s working out.” He clasped her hand. “You are smart, beautiful, hardworking, and loyal. The fact is, you deserve all the best this world has to offer.”
Standing on the top step she leaned over and placed a light kiss on his lips. “So do you.”
He wanted to bury his fingers in her hair and ravage her lips. Instead he lightly kissed her neck. “Thank you for trusting me.” He wanted to say more. Tell her that she had his heart. Explain that because she was one of the few people who’d believed him when he had nothing. He could never look at a woman like Catherine with desire again. Penny was a beautiful woman with an even more stunning soul. But he didn’t dare bring up Catherine now.
So instead, he tucked her hand in his elbow as Mr. Carrington whisked open the door. Tonight he would show her how much he cared by staying by her side. He would not even look at that vulture of a woman.
The carriage ride passed in easy conversation, but Penny grew quiet when they entered a line of carriages moving slowly up the circular drive. “Other than politely thanking the Kitteridges for the invitation, we need not speak to them at all,” he said as she nibbled at her lip.
She turned to him. “Really? Oh that would be wonderful.” She let out a long breath. “I don’t mean to be insecure.”
The carriage came to a stop, and the door snapped open. “You’ve every right but there’s no need.” Stepping out, he reached back to hand her out. “Let’s go make good connections. We don’t want to let Lady Kitteridge keep us from being successful.”
“That is an excellent point.” Her back straightened as they joined the crowd at the door. For a dinner party there must have been a hundred people slowly filtering into the entry, waiting to be received.
Wes wanted to wrap his arm about her and kiss her temple. Several men openly stared at her, their eyes travelling over her. He tightened the muscles of his arm, drawing her closer.
Lord and Lady Harvey waved as they made their way toward them. “Lady Preston, you look divine,” Lady Harvey gushed. Wes looked at his wife. That was the exact word he’d been searching for.
“She does, doesn’t she?” He covered her hand in his own. “Lord Harvey, I must make a success of myself if for no other reason than to keep my wife in clothes like this. She was meant to be draped in silk.”
Lord Harvey gave an appreciative chuckle. “Indeed, my lord. We will see that it is so.” He beckoned for them to follow. “I want to introduce you to the Baron Mayfield. He’s got some second-hand equipment that I’m sure he’d sell at a reasonable price. It will aid you in collecting your crop.”
Two hours later, Wes could have rumbled out his satisfaction. He’d made several good contacts, learned a great deal about the soil and crop times of the area and even managed to secure a few pieces of equipment. He’d used most of the funds Dryden had sent but if they completely failed, they’d be able to make it through the winter.
Lord Harvey stood at his side, “Are you worried about the funds you spent?”
Wes shook his head. “Not terribly, but we took a risk.”
Lord Harvey leaned in, his voice dropping. “Minerva and I regret not going to London to fetch Penny. We didn’t hear about her father’s death until she was well established with her friend but still. We failed her. It won’t happen again.” Lord Harvey patted his shoulder. “Besides. If you keep working the way you have been, you’ll succeed. I promise you that.”
Lord Harvey’s words filled him with an appreciative ache. How had he managed to finally land himself in a place where people wanted to help him, cared for his well-being? He turned to his wife. Yes, he’d changed, become a man on whom people were willing to take a chance. Like Penny, her willingness to place her fate in his hands had brought other people into the fold.
He reached for her hand. The emotion that had been bumping about his chest, sharpened, focused. He loved her. Penny was his reason for still being. He’d do anything for her.
Lord Harvey stepped around him, holding out his hand to Penny. “May I have this dance?”
Penny smiled and slipped her hand from his into Lord Harvey’s. Wes tried not to frown. It wasn’t jealousy just an unease that pulled at his mouth. He liked her safely tucked next to him.
She smiled over her shoulder, a reassuring glance filled with warmth.
Lord Harvey found an open spot on the floor. Wes’s eyes watched as Penny gracefully swayed in Lord Harvey’s arms.
“She is beautiful, isn’t she?” Lady Harvey sighed. “Looks like her mother but with her father’s hair and eyes.”
“Was her mother beautiful too?” He supposed, knowing about her father’s mistreatment, he’d pictured her less attractive.
“Quite.” Lady Harvey touched her fingers to her cheeks. “But she didn’t have much sense. I loved her, mind you. She was always kind and giving with her affection.”
“Like Penny,” Wes murmured.
“A little.” Lady Harvey drew in a deep breath. “Penny knows to judge a person by their motivations and not just by the attractiveness of their face. A lesson Claire unfortunatel
y never learned.”
Penny swept by again, gracefully flowing to the music. “Thank you for sharing that, Lady Harvey.”
“Call me Minerva,” she said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must use the powder room. I’ll be back momentarily.”
Wes gave a nod, his eyes following his wife. He was anxious to have her back in his arms.
“You’re finally alone,” a female breath hissed in his ear. “Does it bother you she’s so clingy?”
“I am the clingy one,” he said back, his jaw tightening. Catherine. Even her voice set him on edge.
Her laugh trilled, sharp and abrasive, making his ear ring and his skin crawl. “You can cling to me then. I don’t mind.”
“Let me be clear.” He turned toward her. “The only woman I plan to touch is my wife.”
Her hands slid around his waist. “All right. I’ll touch you then. I remember what you look like under your clothes. I can only assume farming has improved those muscles.” She made a purring noise deep in her throat. “I want to feel them on me.”
Hell and damnation, this woman was not understanding.
Penny spun in Lord Harvey’s grip, honestly glad they had come. As usual, Wes had kept his promise to her. He’d stayed by her side the entire evening. They hadn’t even hardly spoken to the Kitteridges.
But as she turned back, she noticed that Wes faced away from her, instead of watching her dance. Her eyes skimmed down his back and she saw them. Two white gloved hands at his waist. Her stomach clenched and the room spun is a dizzying circle that had nothing to do with the dance.
Then she saw Catherine Kitteridge on tiptoe whispering in Wes’s ear. Her lips were practically pressed to the curve of his lobe, her lips pouty and simpering.
She stumbled in her step, her head light. “Penny, are you quite all right?” Lord Harvey asked.
“I’m…I’ve grown fatigued,” she said, her chest constricting in a painful ache.
Lord Harvey moved them to the edge of the floor and then began making his way back to Wes. Her husband was now alone, facing them once again, his face unreadable in its stone expression.
“Penny.” Wes took the last two steps toward her. “You’re pale as a sheet. What’s the matter?”
Her lips pressed into a thin line. “I think it’s time to leave.”
Wes’s brow crinkled as he cocked his head to the side. “Lord Harvey, would you give us a moment please?”
“Of course.” Lord Harvey handed her to Wes and stepped into the crowd.
“Is this about Catherine?” he asked, his voice dropping low.
She stared up at him. “She had her hands all over you.”
His shoulders slumped. “It isn’t like that, Penny. Without being completely rude, I told her I wasn’t interested.”
Somehow, those words infuriated her. “Why not be rude?”
He let out a short breath. “She’s our hostess and we have a history.”
She clenched her hands and spun about, storming toward the door. She didn’t look back to see if he followed but as she neared the door, his hand slipped around her waist. “Penny.”
She allowed him to turn her, simply because she didn’t wish to cause a scene. But deep inside, she felt betrayed. Her father had always been full of excuses just like these. They didn’t change the fact that her mother was his fool. “I don’t want to discuss it here.”
With a stiff nod, they continued out the door.
Chapter Nineteen
The ride home was silent and as Penny entered the house, she made her way to the library without a word. She didn’t want to argue. There was little point. She knew what was happening, she was becoming her mother.
Pulling the Chronicle from the shelf she sat herself down and began to record the night’s events.
“What is that book?” Wes rumbled behind her.
Penny’s head snapped up. She’d expected him to silently make his way upstairs. They hadn’t spoken for an hour. “That’s none of your concern.”
His eyebrows rose. “That isn’t fair. Everything I do is your concern.”
He crossed the room and Penny’s fingers itched to snap the book closed but she wouldn’t hide like she was doing something wrong. “It’s Chloe’s. She asked me to write down my history with my parents.” Not exactly true, but not a lie either.
He stopped. His eyes scanning the book before lifting to her face. “So you’ve recorded your parents’ relationship?”
“Yes.” She notched her chin refusing to look guilty.
His eyebrows rose. “My sight is excellent.”
“Good for you?” she said, her own brows crinkling.
“My sight is excellent so I can see my name written several times on that page.” He took another step toward her and pointed down at a sentence and then read aloud.
The problem with rakes is that once one has broken your heart, as they wont to do, you can never trust men/lords again. Granted my father was the one that dealt the first blow but my husband is suspicious at best. Wes is keeping secrets from me about his past relationship with a baroness. That is the problem with rakes. Even when they appear to be reformed, you can’t trust them. He’s lied and, though I can’t prove it, I think he may be having, or planning to rekindle, an affair.
Penny’s face heated but her shoulders remained stiff. She gripped the desk with her hand. “It’s true isn’t it?”
“No.” He snatched up the book. “Not a word of it. I’ve told you before. She makes me sick. A woman like that holds no appeal to me. What I wanted was a woman who believed in me and I thought that was you but clearly I was wrong.”
Her heart thrummed in her ears as her mouth fell open. Only now did she realize her error. He’d wanted trust and she’d denied him. “You lied to me. How can I believe in you when you don’t tell me the truth?”
His face collapsed. “I wanted to protect you from the man I was. I thought it would tarnish your feelings for me. Clearly, I was right.” Then he turned and left the library.
Penny stood, moving around the desk but she hadn’t made it three feet when she heard the front door slam. Just like that, he was gone.
Her knees gave out and her hip hit the floor with a resounding thud. She covered her mouth with her hands. She was alone in this house again waiting for a man who may very well never return.
Wes walked to the village, needing to let out some steam. It wasn’t until he walked into the pub that he realized he still wore his formal attire. Everyone turned to stare as he crossed the room. Plunking himself down at an empty table, he slammed the book on the wooden top.
A serving wench approached wearing a low-cut top and a saucy smile. He ignored the flesh and the look. “Ale, please.”
She gave a nod. “Of course, darling. Whatever you want.” Then she flounced off again.
Wes ran his hands through his hair, his head hanging low. What was he doing? He’d left Penny and now he was going to drink?
A man walked past his table, pulling the brim of his hat low. There was something familiar about his stance, his hand, the set of his jaw. But Wes didn’t have time to consider as the wench slapped his ale down on the table. “Here you go, love. Need anything else?” Her hip leaned against the table at a jaunty angle, blocking his view.
“No thank you,” he answered, glancing around her but the man was gone.
Should he follow? He shook his head. He’d likely just seen the man in the village. Slapping a few coins on the table, he didn’t touch the ale. Instead, he cracked open the book and began reading.
Penny hadn’t lied after all. The book detailed her parents’ relationship. The way her father used her mother. The endless hours her mother forced her daughter to agonize over the man’s return. The rumors that swirled about his extramarital activities and their financial decline.
Only the last few pages were dedicated to him. Reading all of it, he quickly realized that Penny wanted to trust him, wished to understand him. Her father’s memories, however, were
haunting their relationship. That was something he could understand. His own past was a ghost he too was trying to be rid of.
Closing the book, he stood.
“But love,” the wench said as she sauntered over to him. “You didn’t drink your ale.”
“I know.” He tucked the book back under his arm and headed for the door. It was time that he and Penny had a conversation where they were completely honest with each other.
Chapter Twenty
Penny paced the entry, her eyes travelling to the closed door of the sitting room. Opening that door now would be like slapping her own face. She’d sent Mrs. Welsh and Mr. Carrington to bed, not wanting to worry them. Truth be told, she didn’t want them to see her worry. She stared at the door again, its panels taunting her. Though staying out of that room hadn’t changed her present. The sad fact was that she still waited on a husband.
Granted, Wes had only left an hour before and her mother had waited for days or sometimes weeks before her father would limp back in, reeking of liquor, bruised and battered from whatever adventure had gone awry.
Her heart hammered in her chest as her hands shook. Had he left to meet Catherine?
How could he? The carriage and horses were all in the barn. Stanley was still brushing them down when she’d gone out to check. Wherever Wes had gone, he’d travelled on foot.
Perhaps she should look for him. But even as she thought it, she rejected the idea of heading out into the dark. She had no idea which way he might have gone. Should she send Stanley out?
The idea had merit, and she started for the door. Perhaps they could even go out together.
As she reached for the knob, it turned and her breath caught. Was he back? A smile touched her lips. Thanks goodness.
The Wicked Wallflowers: Regency Boxed Set (Chronicles of a Bluestocking) Page 18
