Love Forever After

by Patricia Rice

  “I believe Dolly mentioned it, but we have been so caught up in work that it completely escaped my mind. Won’t you come in? Graham will probably not be back for some hours, but I would be glad to have you for tea.”

  “Then the least I can do is take you ladies riding. Shall we?” Guy grinned as Alexandra sent a pleading look to Penelope. He had given her little choice in the matter.

  Seeing no harm in a short jaunt with Alexandra in accompaniment, Penelope agreed. Not bothering to change into her fashionable riding habit, she allowed Guy to seat her as she was. The rumpled day dress could not be any more soiled than it already was after chasing Alexandra through the park, and she had no need to impress Guy with her elegance.

  The little jaunt turned into a much longer one than anticipated. Guy’s lively tales of how he and Graham had spent their summers swimming and fishing in the stream, stealing apples from the orchard, and terrorizing the neighboring gentry necessitated a tour of all the scenes of crime, and laughter prevented a close watch on time.

  The furious gallop of a horse on the path jarred Penelope into realizing how far the sun had sank in the sky. Her gaze jerked up to meet Guy’s with the same thought. They slowed their horses to a halt.

  Graham and his massive stallion flew into view. From this distance his expression could not be seen, but as he caught sight of them, the set of his shoulders seemed to relax, and he approached with the grace of an experienced rider.

  Alexandra cried a greeting and set her pony to its paces, showing off her prowess. Graham’s mouth tilted appreciatively before his gaze traveled on to Guy.

  Guy’s grin did not quite reach his eyes as he took in his friend’s impassive expression. “The ladies grow bored if left alone too long, old sport. You’d best beware lest some charming leprechaun spirit them away one day.”

  Alexandra giggled at this nonsense, but sensing an undercurrent, Penelope remained silent.

  “I certainly hope my ladies have more sense than to be charmed by a leprechaun, or any other rogue.” Graham turned a reflective eye to his wife. “Do you suffer from neglect, my dear?”

  “I never suffer from neglect,” Penelope replied in her primmest manner. “Sometimes, I even welcome it.” With an arched eyebrow directed toward both men, she spurred her mount toward home.

  As Alexandra hurried to follow, the two men exchanged glances, each waiting for the other to respond to this enigmatic remark. A quirk appeared at the corner of Guy’s lips. Graham controlled a grin, and they both broke out laughing at the same time.

  “You are lucky to find a Penny like that one, sapskull.” Guy urged his horse into a canter beside Graham’s as they trailed the two females. “She has a mind of her own.”

  “Rather eccentric of her, really,” Graham agreed with characteristic understatement.

  Guy sent his friend a sidelong look. In the saddle Graham appeared the perfect specimen of rude health. He controlled his spirited stallion with nonchalant ease, using only one hand. His broad shoulders and thick chest strained at his old riding coat, and there seemed nothing wasted about the powerful thighs clamping the stallion’s side. In fact, he looked healthier than he remembered from before the accident, with the exception of the disfiguring scar and eye patch. Guy frowned.

  “Leg not bothering you when you ride like that?” He feigned concern.

  “Don’t make an old man of me yet. I’ve a young wife, if you’ll remember.” Graham deftly avoided the topic. His gaze followed the sway of Penelope’s slim waist. The flimsy piece of scarf she had tucked in her bodice for modesty had come loose. Both men eased their mounts to a faster trot.

  “I’d be happier if you remembered that fact more frequently” Guy retorted. “When are you taking her to visit the Reardons?”

  Graham scowled. “Who sent you to ask that?”

  “Not Arthur. He’s about as communicative as you these days. He nearly stuck his spoon in the wall, Trev, and he’s younger than both of us. Don’t you think you ought to hear his case?”

  “Explanations don’t bring back the dead. Stay out of it, Hamilton. I’ll take Penelope to visit if she likes. Do not ask more of me.”

  Relieved at receiving a rational reply, Guy pressed his luck a little further. “He’s already said he had no part in what happened to me, and I believe him. He was just a young pup, and DeVere used him for an errand boy. The guilt lies with the eldest of us who allowed the bastards to go too far.”

  “Speak for yourself.” Curtly Graham sent his horse ahead, leaving Guy behind in a curtain of dust.

  Penelope looked up as Graham reined in beside her, and she flushed as she noted the path of his gaze. Her equestrian talents did not lead to riding without hands while she secured her tucker, but she pushed a straying edge into her bodice.

  “I like a woman who is not afraid to show she is a woman.” Graham curbed his impatient stallion to turn his attention upon her.

  Penelope had no practice at flirtation or flattery. Only the fact that the gentleman at her side was her husband kept her from flying into the boughs altogether. She expected such talk from Chadwell, not Graham.

  “Show is one thing, flaunt is quite another.” Flustered, she replied more curtly than necessary.

  To her surprise he answered with a hint of admiration. “You may be right at that. I would feel much better about your riding out with Hamilton were you wrapped in velvet and linen up to your neck.”

  That statement nearly left her speechless, and Penelope gaped. This from a man who had told her she might take a lover as she chose!

  Restored from shock by her sense of humor, Penelope answered, “Then I should have to forego his company all summer or suffer from heat rash. Which is your wish, master?”

  Graham caught the straying scarf, tucking it in more firmly. “I like your freckles just as they are. Heat rash would not become you. And since it is futile to forbid a rogue like Guy the door, I will leave the matter to your own good taste.”

  “My lord is most kind,” she said wryly.

  True to his promise, Graham took Penelope to visit the Reardons the next day. Dolly gave an ecstatic cry and only by an admonition from her mother refrained from dragging her friend to another chamber for a private coze. Instead they joined the other guests in the gardens.

  Graham fell into discussion with Henry, Lord Reardon, Dolly’s eldest brother, over the condition of the bridge adjoining their properties. Also in attendance, Charles DeVere wandered over to join the ladies.

  Penelope had never had opportunity to study the Honorable Charles DeVere at any length. He was not so fashionably handsome as Guy, but had a sharp, striking face marred most often by the mockery in his smile. From his remarks she gathered he had intelligence and practiced charm, but little true sensitivity of nature. He drew Dolly out, enchanted her by speaking to her as if her opinion mattered, then completely forgot she existed when another target for his wit appeared.

  Penelope resisted his efforts to inquire upon the subject of Graham’s injuries or Chadwell’s business in England. She didn’t wish to appear unfriendly, but neither did she have Dolly’s need to impress, and the subjects were personal ones better directed to Graham. Finding her monosyllabic replies unedifying, DeVere turned his attention to Lady Reardon, and the conversation drifted to the convalescent.

  Graham returned just as this topic was introduced. At the same time, the butler led Guy onto the terrace to join them. After the first greetings Guy asked after Arthur’s health, and Graham grew quiet.

  Penelope noted his withdrawal and wondered if his leg pained him. She entwined her fingers with his and sent him a questioning look. Graham squeezed her hand, but he did not meet her gaze.

  As the tales of Arthur’s foolish bravery in running away to join the army and live the life of an unheralded soldier unfolded, Penelope watched the other participants in this conversation. The Reardons told the tales in rounds, each adding his own bit to the story. Guy prodded them with questions he obviously already kn
ew the answer to while avoiding Graham’s eye. DeVere, on the other hand, seemed intent on watching Graham’s reaction to the point of ignoring all else.

  It was becoming obvious to Penelope that something existed between these three men that only they knew about and perhaps, the missing Arthur. The mysteries haunting her husband left her with the feeling of living on the edge of a precipice. Why would he tell her nothing of himself?

  Inevitably the Reardons suggested that Graham go up to visit, since Guy and DeVere had already been and the patient could deal with only one visitor at a time. Graham’s hand tightened on Penelope’s until she feared he would crack her bones, but nothing of his tension appeared on his face as he bowed to Lady Reardon’s request.

  “I would not be an encouraging visage for an invalid to look upon. Perhaps, when he is stronger. . .”

  “Don’t be such a nodcock, Trevelyan. You might offer something of a shock to strangers, but to those of us who know you well, the difference disappears. Arthur has seen worse, I wager,” Arthur’s brother’s said.

  The muscle over Graham’s jaw tightened, but he bowed to the task. Excusing himself, he followed Henry into the house.

  “Arthur used to think Graham some kind of a god,” Dolly whispered to Penelope. “Henry is ten years older than Arthur, and he was already married when Guy and Graham were still young men about town, and Arthur first came down from school. I can remember watching them from the upstairs hallway when they attended the Christmas Ball. You never saw such handsome men in your life! They were all the girls talked about.”

  “Guy is still available,” Penelope teased. It did not pay to worry about Graham. She kept forgetting he was a grown man who could take care of himself better in this world than she could. He certainly didn’t need her to mother him as she did Alexandra.

  “Oh, but Guy thinks I’m a silly goose, and he disapproves of me, rightly so.” Dolly’s eyes widened in surprise that Penelope had not noticed. “He is all the time scolding me as if he were one of my brothers.”

  Penelope smiled at this blindness. “You treat him as one of your brothers. I suspect that is one of the reasons you have so many admirers. It makes you very accessible, but a man like Guy isn’t quite used to that kind of treatment. He thinks he’s too old for you.”

  “Too old!” The words popped out of Dolly’s mouth with such an exclamation that the others turned to stare. She reddened at the lift of Guy’s mocking eyebrow and hurriedly explained, “The wine. Penelope thinks Graham’s wine cellar is too old.”

  Guy turned a laughing gaze to Penelope. “When you are ready to throw it out, throw it my way, Penny. I’ll be happy to dispose of it for you.”

  “Dolly has just been explaining to me that wine improves with age. As I understand it, you and Graham are the equivalent of a good Madeira.”

  Guy’s whoops brought any further attempt at private conversation to an end. The chatter became general, leaving Penelope to return to worrying over Graham.

  She had good cause to worry. Left alone with the patient in the upstairs chamber, Graham glared with fierce contempt at the man in the bed. The years had added harshness to Arthur’s once youthful visage, and judging by the patient’s expression, little compassion or wisdom. The darkened features of a man who had spent many months under a Spanish sun tightened beneath Graham’s gaze.

  “All these years, I’d thought you dead,” Arthur muttered. “I should have known you were too damned proud to die. I kept waiting for your ghost to haunt me, but I can see you’d rather do it in person.” Arthur coughed as if the task of speaking had depleted his breath. The white bandage around his dark crop of hair provided sharp contrast to the unhealthy coloring of his skin. He had been lying atop the bed covers, reading, when Graham entered. His book lay cast aside beside the stiff leg wrapped in heavy bandages.

  “If Marilee’s ghost doesn’t haunt you, none will. I prefer more physical vengeance, myself.” Graham leaned on his walking stick and glared at the enemy who had once been his youngest friend.

  “Fine. You with one eye and me with one leg. A fair fight by any standards. Will you send your seconds?”

  “If that’s the way you want it, but I’ve waited this long, I can wait a little longer. I’ve had five years to recuperate. You’ll not need that long. Just don’t think you can escape me.”

  Arthur’s fists clenched against the counterpane, and for a brief moment, sorrow flashed across his dark eyes. “You will accept no explanations, will you?”

  “Save them for Marilee when you meet her. All I hear are her screams of pain when I look at you.”

  With a sigh Arthur lifted his hand and let it fall again in agreement. “You are right. No explanation will right that night. Send your seconds whenever you are ready.”

  “I’m glad to see the charioteer still has some honor in him.” With that parting remark Graham strode out.

  Chapter 21

  Graham watched as Penelope shed her prim façade and seemed to thrive in her new home. She happily puttered in the gardens, socialized with people who were much like her former neighbors, and had the freedom to roam as she desired without carriage and a battery of London footmen.

  He would have rejoiced at her happiness had he not also noticed the increasing frequency with which Hamilton and DeVere appeared at their doorstep. To add insult to injury, she had taken to visiting Arthur Reardon. Admittedly she was always in the company of Dolly, but the wound still festered. Every man in the neighborhood had the right to pursue her except himself. That thought gnawed at his soul more than any other. Since Penelope thought these were his friends, he could not forbid her to see them. And to warn the others to stay away from her would reveal the state of his mind. He was trapped in a torment of his own making.

  Pride prevented him from discovering if she had a distaste for him; honor prevented him from stealing her innocence under false pretenses. If she found other lovers, it would be easy enough to see her as any other woman, he decided. It was her honesty and total guilelessness demanding the same in return that kept him away.

  Once more Penelope found the door between them closed. She mourned the lack of closeness that she had thought they were developing, but she could do nothing to breach the barriers. Graham had not married her for companionship. Apparently, he had no need of company. He even ignored his friends when they called, leaving them to her care while he set the estate in good order.

  Pensively Penelope watched Graham’s wide shoulders as he strode away from her, knowing Guy Hamilton waited in the front room. What had happened to the man who had all but admitted jealousy of Guy’s attentions? The man who had slept in the bed beside her and looked at her as if she were a woman he could admire? Where did that man go when this gruff stranger entered?

  And why did it matter? She had never needed a man’s flattery or admiring gazes. Deciding she must be growing unacceptably vain, she hurried to greet Guy and tell him that once more Graham had escaped.

  “Why do we not ride over and find Dolly? She enjoys an outing more than anyone, and she spends so much time cooped up inside entertaining Arthur.”

  Guy bowed acceptance of this decision. “She has shown a remarkable degree of sensibility in caring for her brother that I had not expected of her. If you do not mind adding a third party, I am willing.”

  “Three is a crowd? Shame on you, Guy. And what makes you think Dolly is not sensible? She is young and she has been much spoiled, but she is not lacking for sense or affection.” Penelope tied the ribbons of her hat and pulled on her riding gloves as they stepped out into the sunshine.

  “And you are so very old that you can call a chit like Dolly young? You have some very strange notions, my dear Penelope. It is not the difference in your ages that make you a model of all that a man admires. I hope Trev knows how very lucky he is.” Guy held her horse as she mounted.

  Penelope sent him a mocking look. “Sir Percival, if you do not show more sense than that, I shall abandon you entirely and retreat
to the nursery for intelligent conversation. Graham tolerates me because we are much of a kind, both practical, logical-minded individuals unswayed by strong emotions. You and Dolly, however, are impulsive, laughing, loving creatures who light up the lives of others. Why do you ridicule what is good in you and admire what is dull in me?”

  “Because I need a good, sensible partner who will keep me on the right path and make my house a welcome place as you have done the Hall. I am tired of the bachelor life. It is time I settled down.”

  “Would you not enjoy settling down more with someone you love? It is all very well to decide on a sensible wife who will put pretty flowers in your vases, but what if she whines when she talks? Or sneezes without using a handkerchief? Or nags? Love might be blind to such faults, but without love, they would make every day an irritation. Do you think you can find a woman without faults?”

  “Are you saying you and Graham married for love—or are perfect?” Guy asked sardonically.

  “You do not think we love each other?” Penelope returned the question, wondering what had made him ask.

  “I have known Graham all my life. He is my best friend, but I am not blind to his faults. Since the accident, I cannot know him at all. He does not comport himself in a manner to invite love. No, I think he has taken advantage of you and for whatever reasons, you have allowed it.”

  “Perhaps so, but as I said, we are very much alike. We do not have the need for strong passion, so we swim along quite nicely. I do not think you can say the same for yourself. You would not be content to let me go my own way as Graham does.”

  “No, by Jupiter, I would not!” Guy responded vehemently. “And neither should Graham! One does not throw a rare gem down on a common table and leave it there for all to pick up and admire as they will. The man has taken leave of what few senses he has remaining. When I see DeVere and his ilk hovering over you like vultures, I think I do not know the man at all. I’d as lief think him to be the crazed madman loose in London as to think he would allow you to fall in the hands of the likes of DeVere.”