“I forbid you to go back to that end of town again. I will see to it that you don’t. My driver already has instructions not to take you out without my permission. Harley will report to me if you should try to go anywhere alone. You will arrange to close the house for the summer. I have given orders for the Hall to be opened for our arrival. That should curb your ability to try to save the entirety of the East End for the nonce.”
Ignoring the fury building in Penelope’s normally obedient demeanor, Graham continued, “I will make one concession. You may have an allowance for charitable works to spend as you choose. I will not make any inquiry into how it is spent. It may go on jewels and furs if you prefer, but I am happy to give you those should you ask. This will be cash in your hand, not credit, but there is one string attached. If I should ever find you have placed yourself in such a dangerous situation again, you will never have another penny from me for any cause but the clothes on your back. You will be able to save those souls that money can buy or none at all. Is that understood?”
The child began to squirm and whimper, finally showing some sign of life, and Penelope averted her attention to this more immediate need.
His expression softened as he watched her comfort the child. Tears still wet on her cheeks, she cradled the infant expertly as she cooed and caressed pale cheeks and calmed the infant’s cries. With her tousled hair falling in soft waves against her heated cheeks, his wife could have posed as a Madonna for any artist he knew. Graham would have given all his wealth for the opportunity to give her a child of her own to love and caress as she did this one.
She glared at Graham through tears. “I will bathe her in the kitchen and keep her from Alexandra until the physician says it is safe.” Without acknowledging any of his commands, she departed, turning her back on the man who needed her far more than he would ever admit.
Chapter 18
“I am not!”
“You are so! Nasty, nasty little boy!” Alexandra chanted, hands on tiny hips as she glared at the taller youth in the stable doorway.
“Alexandra Melissa Trevelyan, what are you doing?” Penelope sailed down the drive, the bright blue ribbons of her bonnet flying in the breeze, her white sprigged muslin catching the first winds of the coming storm.
Alexandra’s defiance fled, but she set her jaw with a look of determination that seemed hauntingly familiar, and Penelope nearly gasped at her sudden resemblance to Chadwell. It was the black hair that did it, she decided, for Alexandra’s heart-shaped face could never resemble the hard square jaw of her cousin.
“Alexandra, your father is waiting for you. The carriages are leaving now. Whatever are you about?”
“Pippin says my daddy isn’t my daddy. He says ferocious beasts eat little girls and can’t be daddies. Tell him that nasty Mr. Chadwell is not my daddy!”
Penelope would gladly have knocked both their angelic little heads together for repeating what she had only just thought. Children had naught to do but observe their elders, though they understood little. They would never see Graham’s true visage beneath that scarred and patched surface, no more than they could see his resemblance to Chadwell. They only saw Graham’s fierceness and Chadwell’s dissolution and came up with their own interpretation.
“Pippin, you are to be ashamed of yourself! Mr. Chadwell may have found you this position, but it is Lord Trevelyan who pays your wages, and Lord Trevelyan who is helping me carry Goldie to her new home. Do you think I would leave your sister in the care of a beast who eats little girls?”
Pippin stuck his chin out. “She called me a nasty little boy. I ain’t little. I’m twicet as big as ’er!”
“Which is why you should be nice to her and not tell her scary stories. Big boys should protect those smaller than themselves. Now tell Alexandra you made it all up and both of you say good-bye politely. We won’t be seeing each other for some while.”
The boy looked suspiciously as if he would cry, but bravely, he held his grubby paw out. Alexandra stuck her tongue out in reply.
Penelope sighed in exasperation and caught her daughter by her tiny gloved hand. “You would do better to make friends than enemies, Alexandra Trevelyan. Now say good-bye. We must go.”
Happy at having achieved the last “word,” Alexandra waved and called a merry farewell and skipped along at Penelope’s side, leaving the bereft orphan behind without a qualm. Her nose had been seriously out of joint these last few days with the advent of the infant in the nursery, but the adventure of an excursion into the country had relegated her jealousy to the past.
Penelope wished she could be so serene. Graham had held himself aloof these past few days as she had ordered trunks packed and holland covers thrown over furniture while running up and down to calm the uproar in the nursery. Alexandra’s jealousy had been as nothing to the infant’s withdrawal from the diet of gin, and her screams had put the entire household on edge for days.
But things were settling down. She almost wished she could see Chadwell one more time before they left. The haunting look of hunger and need he had given her that last night coupled with his shocking state of the next morning left her feeling guilty. Perhaps even rakes had a conscience, and perhaps he was not quite so lost to sin that he could not be saved. Now she would not have the chance to know.
Graham waited impatiently near the elegant barouche with his coat of arms on the door. The matched thoroughbreds pranced and snorted in the traces, much as she felt her husband was doing as he threw open the door before the footmen could do so. Whatever else he might be, Graham Trevelyan was the epitome of a well-bred nobleman. His tailored, earth-colored riding coat sat perfectly across the broad expanse of his shoulders. His starched white linen lay smoothly against his wide chest. His immaculate cravat stood stark against the swarthier coloring of his skin. The only problem with the image was that his ferocious attitude, large size, and leonine gray hair did not match the pale, bored elegance of the modern noble, but more aptly belonged to the days of Sir Francis Drake or Walter Raleigh. Penelope did not wait for him to spread his cloak beneath her feet.
The storm broke before they were scarcely out of the limits of the city. Alexandra squealed in fear at being in open country with lightning zigzagging overhead. With a signal, Graham sent the carriage into the relative protection of a nearby barn. Once the horses were situated, he shook off his cloak and left it outside to climb into the seat across from Penelope.
Alexandra scrambled into the security of her father’s embrace, burying her head against his coat while Penelope rocked the wide-eyed infant. Across the gulf between the seats their gazes met. Once again, Penelope realized why she had married this man. The love and gratitude in that one fierce eye melted all her reserve all over again, and she offered a smile in return.
That she could give him Alexandra repaid a small part of the debt she owed him. But the look in his eyes spoke of more than that, and she had to turn her head away to prevent the excited churning of her insides. She must be a wanton to think of those things Chadwell had done to her while looking in her husband’s face.
Graham watched sadly as she turned away. He kept deluding himself into thinking that something magical would happen to dissolve the beast in him and make the maiden love him as he was. He wanted it so much that he saw it in her every gesture, every look. They sat together peacefully like this, like the family he desired, but it was all a fraud, an illusion. What did he have to do to chase away the witch’s spell?
Remembering his purpose in making this journey, Graham took a deep breath and drove away such thoughts. She would hate him soon enough. The witch’s spell did not hide true beauty but ugliness so raw and deep that Penelope would never forgive him. He clung to Alexandra and leaned his head against the seat while the thunder rolled in the skies, proving the god’s anger.
The summer storm passed as quickly as it had arrived, and the carriages were soon rumbling down the roads of Surrey. The inhabitants of the village closest to Trevelyan Hall came out to
stare at the carriage with the noble crest they had not seen in years, and Penelope gazed back at them with a mixture of hope and despair. She had lived in a cottage much like that charming one over there. Would Graham permit her to know the inhabitants?
Such thought disappeared with the confusion of their arrival at the Hall. Alexandra had fallen asleep in her father’s arms, and Graham stepped out of the carriage first bearing his precious burden. Footmen ran to lower the steps for Penelope, to fling open the door for his lordship, to unload the boxes and trunks and servants they had brought with them from London.
An elderly butler and housekeeper controlled the staff. They greeted Graham and his daughter with tears in their eyes, exclaiming over Alexandra’s beauty and avoiding the scarred visage that had replaced their master’s handsome face. Graham introduced them to Penelope, and because they assumed she was the reason Graham had finally returned to his home, they beamed at her with gratitude and welcome.
By the time everyone and everything was restored to some facsimile of their proper place, Penelope was weary unto tears. The last days had been hectic and full of confusion. She had scarcely had a chance to make her farewells to the few people she had come to know in London, and now she had a whole new set of faces to learn. She simply didn’t have the strength to cope with it the first evening. She asked that her supper be sent to her chambers.
The Hall obtained its name from the great hall of the old keep. From there, the house had been added on to, higgledy-piggledy, for generations until there was no rhyme or reason to the pattern of its rooms and hallways. The servants installed them in the modern, comfortable chambers Graham had chosen with his first marriage.
Their suite had no parlor and no bath chamber, only small alcoves on opposite ends for their personal servants and a small room at the rear for their wardrobes. A connecting door led from the master chamber to Penelope’s smaller room, and for some reason, the arrangement seemed much more intimate than the chambers with their connecting parlor in London.
Penelope could tell her room had been recently aired but little used. The bed in the room’s center boasted no draperies, only a carved tester. The silver counterpane still had wrinkles from where it had been folded away in a drawer, and it did not quite seem to match the ancient midnight blue velvet of the window hangings. But she realized Graham had not lived here since the accident. She certainly didn’t mind what was luxury compared to the house she had grown up in.
The knock on the hall door startled her. She had sent her maid away and was rather enjoying the solitude. She turned from her unpacking to stare in amazement as her husband entered.
From their first night together, Graham had come and gone from her chambers as if they were his own. He seldom knocked, and if he did, he entered without waiting. That he not only knocked but used the public door instead of their private one seemed ominous, and she watched him anxiously.
“The housekeeper said you had ordered dinner in your room. Are you not feeling well?” Graham’s gruff voice expressed his concern.
“I thought you would retire early, my lord, and I did not want to weary myself or the staff by insisting on formality. It has been a long day.”
“So it has.” Graham made no pretense of leaning on his walking stick but held it in one hand as he examined the room with his one good eye. “Not a very hospitable homecoming with a chamber like this. You will have to order it decorated to suit your taste.” He eyed the narrow bed with misgiving. “That should be replaced. There are larger ones to be had in half the rooms of the house.”
Penelope touched the smooth wood of one fragile poster. “It is old, but lovely. If we are to stay here only in the summer months, it should not need draperies. I am certain there are more important things that need your attention after all these years.”
Graham gave an involuntary jerk of surprise as he realized how far his thoughts had diverted from his wife’s. Marilee had seldom slept in that bed except when indisposed, until those last unhappy weeks. That was why she had never bothered to adorn this room properly. He had kept her warm through the winter months in the big bed on the other side of that wall. This bed was too small to comfortably hold him, and he had always hated it when Marilee had escaped in here. But for Penelope, it wasn’t an escape. It was what she expected. It had never crossed her mind that he could not join her there.
“Perhaps you are right,” he sighed, returning to the present. This whole house had too much of the past in it to be comfortable. That was why he had avoided it for so long, one of the reasons, anyway. The servants who knew him too well were another part of the reason, but that part was almost over. In a little while, it would not matter what they saw or did not see.
“Perhaps there are other chambers you would prefer. Explore the house as you will. I have no preference one way or the other where we sleep.” The Hall held no hidden passages, no secrets. It was as honest and unpretentious as Penelope herself. His only objection would be if she situated herself on the opposite end of the house from himself. He was not ready to give up all hope.
The oddity of Graham’s behavior struck Penelope more than his words. He seemed nervous and ill at ease with his own home. Or was it with her? The words “where we sleep” had not escaped her, and the sudden realization that he must have left his mistress in London made her swallow any reply.
Deciding he was only bored and out of sorts after her escapade into the slums, Penelope sought some manner of healing the breach. “Perhaps sometime we could go over the house together and decide what would be best. Will you have time?”
As best as she could tell behind the immobile mask of his face, he seemed pleased with this suggestion. He nodded a curt agreement and turned to go.
“My lord?” When Graham turned to regard her quizzically, Penelope took a deep breath and plunged in. “Would you care to share your dinner with me in here? It seems foolish to each dine alone on other sides of the wall.”
The taut muscles of his face seemed to relax. “Quite right.” He glanced around at the nearly barren room. “But I think we had best use my room. At least there is a table in there.”
When their dinner arrived, Graham greeted her wearing only a loose satin lounging jacket over his buckskin breeches and open-necked shirt. She could not help but notice the enticing manly hair curling above the V of his shirt, and she cast her eyes downward. This had not been a good idea at all.
As Graham seated her at the small fireside table, Penelope studied his room. It was smaller than the London chamber, which was odd considering the comparative size of the two houses, but this one seemed homier. The bed did not sit isolated on a dais in the center of the chamber but nestled next to a bow window overlooking the gardens. Perhaps in winter, draperies engulfed both bed and window, but for now, only a forest green counterpane draped the bed, and shutters partially closed out the night. He had arranged the chairs near the hearth, leaving only a Queen Anne dresser against the far wall. A Brussels carpet in various shades of green and ivory and brown completed the decor.
“Do you approve?” Graham asked.
Startled into looking up, Penelope regretted it instantly. They had really not sat so close except in the carriage. The candlelight threw the scarred side of his face into shadow, but she could read the warmth in his eye well enough.
“It suits you,” she said.
Graham dismissed the servant, and they were left alone with the crystal and the china and the tantalizing scents of warm bread and poached fish. Penelope discovered she was starved.
Graham at his best could have enchanted a princess, and he was on his best behavior this night. He skirted the issue of Goldie and the other abused children of London’s back streets, encouraged Penelope’s tentative plans for using her allowance on a suitable foundling home, and listened to her opinions on Alexandra’s care and upbringing. He offered little of himself, but answered questions concerning the Hall and its tenants. As the meal ended, he had her laughing at carefully selected an
ecdotes of his childhood.
In this setting, without the strain of being in the public eye, and without the interminable household interruptions, they could just be themselves, as they had those first few weeks before they married. Penelope forgot she was his wife, forgot Chadwell, forgot Graham’s mistress and all the mysteries that separated them, and fell under the spell of her husband’s wit and wisdom. They could talk companionably on many topics that she could not with the fops of London or the village folk at home. It was as if they truly were equals, and his interest flattered her more than all of Chadwell’s physical attentions.
By evening’s end, however, physical awareness became as much a part of the enchantment as the laughter and the conversation. Despite the premature silver of his hair and the wrinkled scar of his face, Graham was a superbly built man in the prime of life, and Penelope was too much a woman not to notice. His low, deep voice had the power to raise the hair at the nape of her neck. A light flush rose between her breasts when she sensed that was the direction his gaze took. He didn’t even need to touch her to make her feel as if he had just kissed her thoroughly.
When it came time to say goodnight, Graham took her hand to help her rise and continued to hold it as he walked her to the door. The heat of his fingers entwined with hers sent warmth through Penelope.
“I know you are tired, my love. Do you wish to postpone our journey into Hampshire a while longer? I can send a message to my sister. . .”
Penelope shook her head. “I will be fine in the morning.” She hesitated, not certain whether to blurt out her feelings, but the intimacy of these last few hours gave her confidence to reveal this one small thing. “I fear if I keep Goldie too long, I will become too attached to her. It is better that I take her to her new parents right away. They are waiting eagerly for her.”
Love Forever After Page 17
