Love Forever After

by Patricia Rice

  Penelope woke to the light of day and the familiarity of her own room. In sleepy surprise she turned over to make sure she did not mistake, but there was no sign that Graham had even been there.

  None, that is, but the fact that she was completely naked and that the soreness between her thighs remained. Remembering what Graham had done, she buried her face against the pillow. The pictures in Chadwell’s house of ill repute had not lied, then. That was what happened between men and women that no one ever talked about. No wonder. No sane woman would ever marry did she know what the future held.

  Although she did not think she could bear to face him again, Penelope could not completely blame Graham. He sought his own pleasure since his mistress was not available, that she understood. But he also sought to give her what she wanted most— a child. Perhaps he also had some latent urge to produce a son, but he would have denied himself had she not encouraged him. It was her own fault.

  Covering her abdomen with her hand, Penelope wondered how long it would take to know if their efforts had been successful. Remembering Graham’s insinuation that it would take more than one time, she wondered if she really wanted a child that much. Imagining herself with rounding belly and all the world knowing what he had done to her, her courage failed. Was it too late to change her mind?

  Practicality reared its ugly head, and she knew she could not hide forever. Afraid of this new body he had given her, Penelope stepped gingerly from the bed. Just the process of using the chamber pot made her blush, and afterward she scrubbed vigorously at her private parts. The scent of Graham clung to her, and she wished for another bath, fearful someone would notice.

  Finally electing a liberal splash of toilet water to disguise any lingering scents, imaginary or otherwise, Penelope dressed in a high-necked gown of lavender muslin. Remembering how her body responded to just a touch of her breast, she understood why Graham preferred the low-cut bodices, and she could not bear to show herself so shamelessly again.

  It was late and she did not bother to call her maid to dress her hair. Graham would no doubt be on his way, and she would not entertain any callers today. Pinning the long lengths in a simple chignon, Penelope took a deep breath and prepared to reenter the world.

  She nearly fled to the safety of her private chamber upon discovering Graham lingered over his breakfast. He looked up at her entrance, and she could not flee. Avoiding his eye, she picked up a plate from the sideboard and selected a small piece of bacon and an egg.

  Graham rose from his chair, and before she could slide into the distant seat that was properly hers, he touched her cheek, forcing her to face him.

  “You look beautiful this morning, Lady Trevelyan, even if you do choose to hide behind your high-necked muslins.” He bent a lingering kiss to her lips, ensuring her response before releasing her and pulling out the chair beside his. “Sit with me. I am almost done, and I want to memorize the way you look to keep me company until I return.”

  “Such flattery will get you nowhere,” Penelope protested as she accepted the seat offered. His kiss had made more than her lips tingle, and she wasn’t at all certain how to act beneath his warm perusal. It was as if he had the ability to see her without her clothes, and she felt as if she sat eating naked before him.

  “It’s not flattery but truth. I can see I have my job cut out to teach you not to be so prudish. Your days as an untouched spinster are over, my lady. Look me in the eye and tell me you did not enjoy any part of it.”

  Now was her chance. She had only to look up and tell him to his face that she had changed her mind, that he would have to save his embraces for the kind of woman who enjoyed that kind of thing, or pretended to. Surely he would not force himself upon her when he understood her feelings.

  But when she looked up to find Graham’s familiar face frowning down on her, she could not do it. He had seemed so happy at her acquiescence, and the memory of his kiss was so strong that she could not deny him. Perhaps another time, but not now. Cursing her blush, she answered, “I do not make much of a liar, my lord.”

  “No, you don’t, and for that I am grateful.” Graham leaned over and brushed her cheek with his ungloved hand. “Be patient, Penelope. I am asking much of you, but not more than you can give. By the time the corn is ripe, you will be looking forward to the planting as much as the harvesting.”

  He laughed at her outraged expression, pressed a kiss to her forehead, and departed on his daily tasks. Not until he was gone did she wonder why she had not noticed his glove last night, or why his scarred and partially immobile mouth seemed to melt so effortlessly against hers when they kissed under the cover of darkness.

  As was not unusual, Graham did not return in time for dinner that night, and Penelope retired gratefully to the privacy of her own chambers. Perhaps if given enough time, she would learn to accept her husband’s marital demands. But tonight it was pleasant to return to the comfort of her empty bed.

  She had no sooner fallen asleep than a familiar step crossed her floor. Penelope tried to waken, but he lifted her in strong arms and carried across the room. She snuggled against his large chest. In the darkness she could see nothing of his features, but she knew the feel and smell of him. She murmured a soft, protesting “Graham” as he laid her across his bed.

  Ignoring this slight objection, Graham removed his robe and leaned over his sleepy wife to waken her with a kiss. As intended, his demands wakened her from more than sleep. Her lips parted beneath his insistence, and he groaned his pleasure. His hand sought the soft purchase of her breast while his tongue plundered the sweet recesses laid open to him.

  The soft linen of her night shift hampered his caress. He joined Penelope on the bed, catching the hem and pulling it to her waist. She gasped, but he had denied himself too long and his need was urgent. Graham buried his hand in her hair and kissed her until they were both dizzy with desire. He stroked and played at the tight juncture he would win from her.

  Penelope twisted and writhed to avoid what he did to her, but he merely claimed her deeper. She opened to his whispered, “Now, Penny,” and moaned when he filled her to the hilt.

  Graham continued to murmur soothing words as he repeated the movement he had taught her earlier. Without need of any other caress, her body responded. This time, there was no pain, and if there was shame, it was lost in the pleasure swelling inside her. When she felt that she could stand no more, that surely she would burst from the intensity of these desires, Graham gave an anguished cry and shuddered above her.

  It was then that she knew the true meaning of what they did, for her body shuddered and accepted him until there was no separating one from the other. Liquid warmth wrapped around them, engulfing and overflowing like fields after a summer rain.

  Graham lay momentarily atop her, pressing her into the mattress, branding her forever with the heat of his flesh. Penelope slid her hands around his back and pressed small kisses into his shoulders, allowing the aftermath of loving to blind her to thought. A sensuous languor stole over her, disturbed only when Graham roused and rolled over, carrying her with him.

  Graham caressed her breast while Penelope curled against his side, content to accept his strength as her pillow. The time for thought would be at the break of day. The time for adjusting to this miracle of becoming one whole was now, while no word or act separated them.

  Penelope once again woke to her empty bed. This time, she did not feel the same rush of relief. She remembered all Graham had done to her, and while a blush stole across her cheeks, a new sensation crept through that place where they had been joined, and it was not at all unpleasant.

  Graham entered as soon as she began moving about. Already fully dressed and ready for the day’s activities, he appeared all the more impressive to Penelope’s newly opened eyes. She felt naked and disheveled in the chemise she had drawn on before he entered, but the look in his eye indicated his impression was not the same.

  “I trust you are feeling no ill effects after last night?
I fear I may have been a little too rough with you.”

  He seemed sincerely penitent and worried, and because she had suffered only pleasure at his hands, Penelope had to forgive him. She pulled on a robe the maid had laid out the night before and touched his cravat since he allowed no caress of his face.

  “You frightened me, but I am learning not to be afraid.” Shyly she studied his expression, trying to find what she craved in the half smile on his lips and the unreadable light of his eye.

  Graham brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, then stroked her throat, down the neckline of her robe, to the knot of her sash. His hand hesitated there, then slid beneath the robe to seek the taut peak of her breast. She continued to watch his face, although her body was already responding to his touch.

  “You learn quickly, my pretty Penny. I hope you do not learn so fast that you go seeking others for these pleasures. I find I am rather jealous of my right to teach you physical love.”

  “Good, then you will not go seeking your mistress any time soon. I do not know enough yet to enjoy sharing you with others.”

  “My mistress?” Startled, Graham frowned.

  “I am not ignorant, my lord. I know what a man does when he does not sleep in his chamber,” she said with tartness.

  He raised his eyebrows but did not argue. “That’s fair. As long as I have you, I need no other. Now kiss me and I will leave you alone until tonight.”

  Her cheeks colored at his tone, but obligingly, she stood on her toes to reach his lips. Graham caught her against him and took more than a simple kiss before he set her down.

  Leaving her flushed and confused, he departed.

  He came to her again in darkness that night and all the others of that fortnight. When Graham worked in the study, Penelope tried to wait up for him, but he never came until her eyes closed and the candle guttered out. Then he would lift her into his arms and carry her to his bed and teach her all those things her body longed to know, although sometimes against her will. He won all these battles and more, until just a touch of his hand or his movement told her what he wanted, and she gave willingly. Once certain that he had tended his field thoroughly, he carried her back to her own bed and parted with a kiss.

  To Penelope’s surprise and relief, no one noticed the difference in her. She helped Dolly address invitations to a rout Lady Reardon decided to give. She walked around the Reardon garden as Arthur tested his mending leg. She rode out with Dolly and Guy to visit neighboring homes. And no one remarked on her new worldliness. It seemed odd that such a major change in her life could not be seen by others, but it made it easier to face the light of day.

  Graham had not forgotten the charitable allowance he had promised her. Penelope had an enormous sum locked away in her writing desk, awaiting her decision on dispersal. Such wealth had the power to change more lives than Goldie’s or young Pippin’s. She had to plan carefully to prevent doing more harm than good. With Graham gone much of the day and with the slower pace of country society, she had time to ponder its uses.

  She had meant to consult Graham with her plans as soon as he had a spare minute, but that opportunity did not arrive. DeVere had shown up several times at the Hall looking for Graham, but Graham showed no interest in meeting with him.

  Penelope returned home from the Reardons one day to be met by Alexandra running up with Pippin following, both yelling incomprehensible phrases. She climbed out of the carriage and waited for them to quiet. Curiosity over Pippin’s presence nearly had her shouting a command for silence.

  Once they realized there would be no response until they spoke one at a time, they bit their tongues and glanced at each other before making small bobs of greeting to Penelope.

  “Very good. Now what is this of ponies?” She held up a hand as both tried to speak again. “Ladies before gentlemen. Alexandra, what has happened to cause you to behave in such an unruly manner?”

  Alexandra stuck her chin out defiantly. “He rode my pony. I didn’t say he could ride my pony. He could have hurt him.”

  Penelope tried to disguise her surprise at the city-bred orphan riding all the way out here. It did not seem likely. She turned to Pippin and offered him a turn. “Did you ride the pony here, Pippin?”

  “Yes, mum.” He stuck his lower lip out and threw Alexandra a malevolent look. “I daren’t take one of ’em great critters, but Nell said ’twas important and I ’ad to get word to the master someways.”

  Nell! That did not bode well at all. Perhaps something had happened to Chadwell. They had left only a skeleton staff in London, and none would know much of Chadwell or Nell. The boy shouldn’t have come alone, but he was impetuous. She took both children by the hand and started up the steps.

  “Have you seen Lord Trevelyan yet? Does he know you’re here?” Penelope ignored Alexandra’s angry tug.

  “’E done up and gone. Took ’at great black beast of ’is and left soon’s I gave ’im the letter.”

  Penelope didn’t like the sound of that, but she couldn’t let the children see her fear. Entering the house, she led them down the hall toward the kitchen. “Then we must find some other way of returning you to London. That’s too long a ride to make alone.”

  She gave Alexandra a severe look. “Now I want you to thank Pippin for bringing your pony out for you to ride. He must have been terribly afraid to ride all that way by himself. Remember how scared you were when the lightning flashed? And you had your papa with you.”

  She squeezed Pippin’s hand when he seemed about to protest, and he kept silent while Alexandra peeped around Penelope’s skirts with awe. “Did lightning hit you?”

  Pippin shrugged nonchalantly. “Oncet or twicet. Not so much’s to notice.”

  Penelope rolled her eyes, but this boldfaced lie seemed to appease Alexandra. She began to chatter excitedly about the other parts of the journey while Pippin invented one tale after another to feed her curiosity. Seeing Harley waiting for her attention, Penelope sent the youngsters off to the kitchen for biscuits and milk and turned an inquiring look to the butler.

  “There’s a gentleman in the first salon, my lady, a Mr. DeVere to see Lord Trevelyan. What shall I tell him?”

  “That his lordship has left for London?” At the butler’s stiff nod, Penelope pursed her lips. “Did Graham leave any message for me?”

  “He was in a great hurry, my lady. John had to fetch him from the fields, and he rode off without his baggage.”

  That told her nothing. He had clothes and toiletries in London, but she hoped his lack of luggage meant the stay would be brief. “I will see to Mr. DeVere, then, Harley. Thank you.”

  When she entered the first salon, however, there was no one there. Puzzled, she glanced around, but he did not stand at the pianoforte or behind the column with a bust of Diana. She checked the window nooks and found several of the sashes open to let in fresh air, but DeVere did not hide here. Shrugging, she turned and left the room.

  Chapter 25

  Lingering in the long shadows of the houses across from the Trevelyan London town house, DeVere patted his pockets in pantomime of a man searching for a lost or misplaced object. While he searched, he noted the drive gates were open. The recent calling card of a horse still lay steaming upon the road. He was certain Graham had arrived, but he could not know if he was still there.

  Deciding to wait a little longer, he was rewarded with the sight of the man he had really come to see—Chadwell. DeVere watched as the dark-haired American climbed into a carriage. With satisfaction, he mounted his horse and followed.

  Not long after, Chadwell entered the private doors of a mansion only slightly less opulent than Carlton House.

  DeVere dismounted, dusted himself off, and with a word and a coin to a liveried servant, entered the mansion at a different entrance. Once inside, he hesitated. He was not attired for a formal court function. Now that he knew the destination, he realized Chadwell had been wearing stockings and a dress sword beneath his cloak—court attire.

>   Thinking quickly, DeVere mentioned a well-known name to another liveried servant and was whisked upstairs. There, he waited in a private parlor until the servant left, then stole out again to a third floor and the quarters of a startled maid. Nervously she nodded at his commands and ran to do his bidding. The American was not the only one who had eyes and ears in numerous places.

  Chadwell slid quietly into a grand ballroom, joining a press of people milling and surging about tables lined with sumptuous foods. Occasionally he caught a glimpse of a swan carved from ice, a golden fountain pouring what appeared to be champagne, and platters stacked high with grapes and other imported fruits from someone’s orangery. But though his stomach grumbled in protest, he was not here to indulge in the buffet.

  Nell’s message had warned of assassination.

  At the far end of the room on a raised dais mingled an assortment of royalty and their dignitaries gartered in the regalia of their various countries. Gold braid, sashes, and medals abounded, a veritable battery of foreign princes who had been touring London celebrating peace. Whispering to the gentleman at his side, Chadwell gestured toward the window nooks and private alcoves along the walls. His companion nodded, said a few words to a third man behind them, then steered Chadwell toward the dais.

  Chadwell kept his eye on the entrance as he spoke to the Foreign Secretary. He frowned as DeVere entered the ballroom wearing ill-fitting black satin knee breeches, frock coat, and a jeweled sword, but Castlereagh’s protest distracted him.

  “The assassin is here, I tell you,” Chadwell insisted. “My sources wouldn’t lie. There may be more than one of them, and they have pistols. If I knew who their target was, we could set a trap, but I couldn’t get a name. Unless you want to search every person in the room, you will have to take his royal highness and his guests out of here or cordon off the dais. I might recognize one or two of the villains, but in this crush, I’m not likely to see them in time.”