Love Forever After

by Patricia Rice

  A thoughtful frown formed over Graham’s nose. With his gloved hand he touched her face. “Sleep late, then. The journey is not a long one, and since we will be taking the roads instead of cutting across other people’s orchards, we should not get lost.”

  A wry smile at his own expense bent one corner of his mouth, and Penelope’s stomach did a funny flip- flop. “I can find my way from the orchard,” she reminded him.

  “So you can. But would I ever pry you away from the vicarage and all your admirers?” he taunted. Then shocking her, he lifted the palm of her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to it before letting her go. “Goodnight, my pretty Penny.”

  The kiss seemed to burn a path straight to her heart, defying all anatomical routes. Penelope curled her fingers around the burning brand and stared, lost, into the depths of that one gold, almost amber eye. Without a word, unable to pry one from her tongue, she nodded and slipped through the door to safety.

  Chapter 19

  It rained all the way to Hampshire. Rather than face the elements alone, Graham joined Penelope and the children in the carriage. He had offered to take two carriages so the governess and a nursemaid could handle the demands of an infant and a bored, lively, six- year-old, but Penelope preferred the company of the children to riding in silence. With Graham filling much of the interior, the limited space became even closer and more lively.

  By the time they reached Penelope’s home village, near his brother-in-law’s estate of Stanhope Manor, Graham had succeeded in teaching Alexandra how to make a cat’s cradle out of Penelope’s hair ribbon. He also taught her the slightly edited lyrics of a rowdy song whose chorus was repeated at longer and louder lengths with each rendition and kept them laughing with jests that sprang from an unlimited receptacle behind his mighty brow. There was no time for boredom.

  The noisy trio and their fretful bundle arrived after the manor’s country dinner hour. Lady Adelaide and her husband, Sir Brian, greeted them in the salon. Graham’s sister lit up at the sight of the infant in Penelope’s arms. Apparently several months along in pregnancy, she gazed worshipfully at the blond infant. In her adoration, she nearly neglected greetings to her amused brother and Penelope.

  Not neglecting Alexandra, Adelaide knelt and swept the little girl into her arms with genuine affection. When Penelope suggested she take the children to their beds, Adelaide insisted on doing the honors. She appropriated Goldie, took Alexandra by the hand, and left Penelope to trail behind.

  Relegating the maids to warming sheets and unpacking child-sized dresses, Adelaide indulged in the delights of undressing and bathing the little girls, with Penelope’s help. It took only a few soapy suds in the eyes and squeals of childish delight to bond the women in friendship.

  By the time Graham and Sir Brian climbed the stairs to see what took so long, Penelope and Adelaide were chattering away as if they had known each other all their lives. With the children tucked in their beds, the two women had drifted to Penelope’s chamber. Both were gasping with laughter at Adelaide’s description of her big brother’s first encounter with a surfeit of fermented grapes.

  Graham bent a quizzical eyebrow as they erupted into renewed giggles at his appearance, but he suffered their mirth while admiring the flush in Penelope’s cheeks. Steamed by the children’s bath, tendrils of hair curled about her forehead, and her eyes seemed to shine with a liveliness he had not seen in weeks. His gaze seldom strayed from Penelope as the talk flowed.

  Finally taking notice of her brother’s silence, Adelaide nudged her unobservant husband and inquired, “Have you eaten? I am certain we can summon up a cold collation if you care. . .”

  Graham cut her off with a gesture. “We stopped at the Golden Goose. Do not let us keep you from your country hours any longer. The journey has been a long one, and I fear Penelope may be overtired.”

  Adelaide hastened the good-nights and ushered her husband out the door leaving Graham and Penelope alone in the chamber she meant for them to share.

  Graham watched as the color fled Penelope’s cheeks. Not looking at him, she hurried to her trunks. The thought that his sister would chamber him with his bride had not occurred to Graham—rather a telling lack of foresight, he decided.

  “Penelope.” He spoke without knowing what to say.

  She turned in inquiry from her aimless search of the wardrobe.

  “I will tell Adelaide my snoring disturbs you and ask for a separate chamber. There are rooms aplenty in this place.” He had not known he meant to say it until the words were out of his mouth. He cursed to himself as Penelope’s eyes lit with relief. Then they glazed over thoughtfully, and she shook her head.

  “No, I suspect your sister would take exception to that. Unless my presence will disturb you, we had best learn to deal with each other as husband and wife. We cannot always ask for separate chambers wherever we go.”

  Graham almost grinned as joy soared through him, but remembering himself in time, he merely nodded. Her presence would annoy the very devil out of him since he knew she meant this sharing of a bed to be a chaste one, but it was one step closer than he had been. While there was yet life in him, there was hope.

  Penelope gathered up her night rail and disappeared behind the dressing screen. Apparently Adelaide did not think a personal maid called for on this occasion. She would have to unbutton her own bodice.

  She could hear Graham moving about the room, and she blushed at the thought of him undressing. She had fully meant her vows when she had taken them in church, but Graham had made it so convenient to forget them. He had every right to do as he wished with her; she just could not know what he wished. He had ignored her for so long that she could not feel he had any husbandly desire for her. Yet there were times when he made her feel as if his thoughts might follow her own. She had no notion of which Graham she would meet outside this screen.

  She had no notion which Graham she wanted to meet, she realized as she tied the sash to her robe. She had not brought the nightgown Augusta had made for her, but sensible linen ones that covered her as the thin muslin did not. Penelope took a deep breath and stepped from behind the screen. She might look the part of spinster, but her heart was beating faster than any maiden’s.

  Graham had divested himself of all but his trousers, but he had donned his robe. He turned as Penelope stepped from hiding. “We should do this more often,” he offered in jest. “You first. I’ll douse the lamps.”

  Gratefully Penelope slid beneath the bed covers and slipped her wrapper off as Graham strode about, returning the chamber to darkness. She could not help but admire his panther-like grace. Behind closed doors he lost all need for limp and walking stick, or did he suffer the pain rather than lower himself in her eyes? It did not matter. She felt a rush of warmth and did not dare meet his eyes as he put out the lamp beside the bed.

  The darkness wrapped around them like a shroud, and Penelope’s other senses sharpened in consequence. She could feel the heat emanating from Graham’s muscular chest. A cool draft crossed her skin as he discarded his robe. Before she had time to panic, he was beside her, his heavy weight drawing the feather mattress downward.

  She buried deeper in her own side, drawing the covers up to her chin so she could not feel any part of him against her. She did not want to know if he had discarded more than his robe.

  Not unobservant, Graham noted his wife’s frozen stance and made no move in her direction. Hands beneath his head, he ruefully considered his choices. He had no idea what her reaction would be should he pull her toward him, although every fiber in his body longed to do just that. Rubbing an exploratory hand over the immobile, scarred portion of his cheek and mouth, he could only imagine her reaction to a kiss by such as that. He had not thought this through at all.

  The vicar’s daughter would not deny her husband his rights, however much it disgusted her. But that was not what he wanted. He wanted her warm and willing and eager, as she had been that night when she came to his room—and he had not bee
n there.

  Cursing himself for the impossible situation he had created, Graham remained motionless on the lonely island that was his side of the bed. “Penelope, you need never fear me. You know that, don’t you?”

  “I know,” she whispered.

  “I cannot imagine what it must be like to be such a saint as to know no fear,” he murmured, rolling his eyes heavenward.

  Penelope giggled. “Angels will watch over your sleep, my lord.”

  “They’re likely to be exceedingly shocked, if so,” he grumbled, and without further explanation, he turned his back toward her.

  The next day, they delivered Goldie to her adoptive parents. Penelope turned away from the awed delight of the couple with tears in her eyes. As she and Graham departed in the midst of much gratitude and well-wishing, Graham handed her his large handkerchief and let her cry.

  “Are you sorry to give her up?”

  Penelope wiped away tears, and summoned a watery smile. “Yes, I am sorry to give her up, for all that I know she will be in good hands. But I cry because they are so happy. They are good people, and they have waited so long to have a child. I’m afraid such power to change lives will make me quite giddy.”

  Graham grumped a noncommittal reply. The power to change lives made a person more than giddy, it changed their own lives, but he would not reveal that just yet. He would have a hard time explaining.

  Their visit to Penelope’s old home brought more tears, these of welcome from her old friend Augusta. When it came time for refreshments, Graham sat by the kitchen fire, resting his stiff leg and sipping at his tea. Penelope seemed as much at home here, over the ancient and battered kitchen table, as in his brother-in-law’s grandiose dining hall.

  He enjoyed watching her fingers flying as she talked. Wisps of hair continually escaped whatever coiffure she attempted, and her long, graceful fingers were always brushing them back from her eyes, or twisting them at her nape. He wanted the right to capture and hold that flying hand in proud possession. He wanted the right to nuzzle the curls at her nape and kiss the ones on her forehead. He wanted much more than he deserved or she expected. In this constant proximity it would soon become an obsession.

  He was new to obsessions. Normally, he had a logical outlook on life. He knew Penelope wasn’t beautiful in the conventional sense, for instance. Her features were pleasant, her figure moderately good. But he had seen those unremarkable eyes widen into rain-drenched pools and startling storms and sunlit summer days. He had seen her tender lips tremble with fear and passion, turn up in joy and laughter, and he knew them to be the most beautiful lips he would ever see. He wanted just to touch them, to feel their life and love, and this was obsession, for he knew he could not, and still, he watched and waited.

  Back at the manor he watched as she slipped easily into the elegant, indolent life of his sister and her husband. She did not set out to charm or impress. Not his Penelope. She scolded Brian for not insisting that his pregnant wife get her exercise by walking about the gardens every day. She chased Alexandra through the house in rousing games of hide-and-seek and blithely treated the starchy servants as if they were all Augusta. She did absolutely everything wrong and made everything enchantingly right.

  Graham clenched the wide doorjamb to restrain himself one morning upon entering their shared chamber where Penelope bent over the grate, stirring the embers. She had not yet donned her wrapper, and the fire outlined every curve of her body through the loose linen of her gown. That was the hardest part of this enforced proximity.

  As much as he admired her character, enjoyed her spirit, thrived on her wit, he still wanted her body. Even knowing he could destroy everything he admired about her, he could not help imagining what it would be like to bury himself in her softness until she cried out with pleasure. For he knew the passionate nature Penelope concealed beneath that welcoming smile and wide-eyed innocence. He wanted to be the one to wake those passions, to arouse her into the awareness of the way his body was meant for hers, and to see her wonder as she succumbed to delight.

  Cursing, Graham released the doorjamb and strode into the room with a purposeful tread that made Penelope jump. She retreated before his glare.

  “Is there something wrong, my lord?” She grabbed her robe and wrapped it around her. She watched warily as the mobile side of his face tautened.

  Doffing his frock coat and tearing at his confining cravat, he knew he exhibited little sign of lameness or ill health. He no longer cared for the deception. “I am impatient to be off. There is much I have to do. Will you be ready to leave on the morrow?”

  “I can be ready anytime you are.” She pushed away his fingers from his cravat and with casual competence, unknotted the starched linen for him.

  He nearly expired from her proximity. “Good. We’ll break the news to Adelaide in the morning.” Graham turned his back to finish his undressing and heard Penelope steal into their mutual bed. He could control his lust one more night, but not much longer. It was time to get back to the final task he had set himself.

  More tears were expended at parting, leaving Graham to ruefully decide that things would be much more cheerful if the women didn’t enjoy themselves so much. When Adelaide pulled him aside for a private farewell, he went reluctantly.

  Taller than Penelope, his sister could meet his gaze on a more equal basis. She didn’t flinch at his scowl or his scarred forehead, but brushed aside a straying hair. “The little baroness has been good for you, big brother. You look handsome and healthy again, and I’ve even seen you laugh a time or two. I had thought you decided on a marriage of convenience, but I can see it has turned out elsewise.”

  “Do not be playing Cupid with my wife, Laidie,” he said irascibly. “Penelope is a good, sensible girl and an ideal mother for Alexandra. She is content with that. Do not be expecting more.”

  Adelaide made a rude face at him. “Next you will be telling me you encourage her admirers so you need not be burdened with the responsibilities of a husband. Fie on you, Trev. She is more beautiful inside and out than Marilee ever was, and you were so jealous of her you wouldn’t let her out of your sight. I know you well. I don’t know what game this is you are playing, but Penelope is too good to be hurt by it. Keep her safe, Trev. Her life has been hard in the past.”

  That much was only too true, and as Graham kissed his sister farewell, he resolved to listen to that much of her advice. Whatever choices he had to make from here on, he would have to take Penelope into consideration first. She deserved that much.

  Chapter 20

  The Hall that had Graham had once inhabited with his lovely first wife was in a state of sad neglect when they arrived.

  Her husband dived into the needed work, leaving Penelope to wonder if it were herself or old ghosts that he sought to drive away. Without consulting her, Graham ordered old draperies and tapestries removed and cleaned and only the best returned to their proper place. Moldering furniture was thrown out without thought to its value or restorable potential, unless Penelope salvaged it from the rubbish heap. Carpets were taken up and beaten and floors scrubbed and polished. Carpenters and painters and artists were called in to repair leaking, drafty windows, crumbling plaster, damaged wainscoting, and to paint the walls with bright new colors and murals.

  Once the house exploded with workmen, Graham turned his attentions to the park and fields. Penelope breathed a sigh of relief and immediately set about restoring the house to serenity. Whatever he hoped to accomplish by turning his home upside down, she would complete by making it into a welcome haven. Whatever ghosts lingered would have to take up residence elsewhere, preferably with the workmen. By vetoing preposterous murals of Egyptian sphinxes, walls of Oriental red, and any suggestion of rearranging the current structure, she succeeded in sending most of the workmen home within a week.

  With satisfaction Penelope saw the last of the gold-and-white brocade draperies installed in the main salon. With the floors polished to a brilliant gleam and decorated w
ith a scattering of new Aubusson carpets, and the lovely old Queen Anne pieces polished and arranged to invite conversation, the salon was ready to accept visitors. Penelope could almost hear herself think again.

  As if knowing she was ready for guests, Guy appeared the afternoon after the departure of the last workman. Instead of sitting sedately in her new salon, however, Penelope was out on the front lawn chasing Alexandra through the shrubbery in a game of tag. They both spied their visitor at the same time and ran toward the drive, Penelope shoving straying hair into pins and Alexandra yelling excitedly.

  Grinning at this reception, Guy swung down and caught Alexandra up in his arms. His lean, dark face lit with pleasure as the little girl kissed his cheek, and he glanced over her head. “Don’t I get a kiss for the other cheek?” He raised a mocking eyebrow.

  “I don’t need to resort to bribery when I want to go riding.” Penelope tried not to place much consequence on the admiration in his eyes. Guy was born to flatter women.

  Guy laughed and tugged Alexandra’s curls. “You scamp. Is that all you want of me? Hasn’t Penny taught you it’s naughty to trade kisses for favors?”

  Alexandra ignored this admonition. “Penny said we might go riding before tea if Papa comes home, but you can take us, can’t you?”

  Guy glanced over her head to Penelope. “Graham’s not at home?”

  “He’s out seeing to some neglected field or other. Apparently the manager he left in charge did not do his duties to Graham’s satisfaction. Did you need to see him? Surely you have not come all the way from London in hopes of catching him?”

  Guy set Alexandra down. Golden hair fell over his bronzed forehead, and laugh lines crinkled at the corners of his eyes as he held Alexandra’s hand and smiled at Penelope.

  “I wouldn’t give the old curmudgeon the satisfaction. Did he not tell you my home is just a few miles from here? Or that the Reardons live just beyond my place? Did he think he could keep you all to himself all summer?”