Love Forever After

by Patricia Rice

  In only one way. Hugging Alexandra as her father would not allow her to do to him, Penelope replied, “Of course I love your papa, Alex. It’s just sometimes hard to show it.”

  The child nodded wisely. “I know. I try to hug my kitten Aunt Adelaide gave me, but it wriggles loose and runs away. But I love him anyway. I’m glad Papa brought you home, Penelope. I can love you even when I’m bad.”

  Penelope laughed, and reassured that her world would not tilt anytime soon, Alexandra departed for other adventures. Sometime later, Penelope looked out the window to see Graham tying ropes to a low tree limb and fitting a seat to them under Alexandra’s direction. With a painful tug at her heartstrings she watched as Graham set his daughter in the swing and pushed her carefully so she would not fall, not an easy task for one of his strength. How could she ever have doubted that she loved him?

  But women had loved unwisely throughout history. It did not change the situation, only made it more dangerous to her emotional well-being. Obviously Graham neither craved nor needed her affections. In fact, she thought he would be dismayed should he discover them. So she would continue to enforce this distance until it became habit, and she could breathe again when he entered a room.

  Chapter 28

  Head pounding after a lonely and foolish bout with the brandy decanter the night before, Graham limped down the stairs to the dining room. He found his sister contemplating the morning’s post, but the look she gave him when he entered made him wince and think twice about breaking his fast. It might be easier to grab a hunk of bread and cheese from the kitchen and keep on going.

  Wearily deciding he had no desire to be driven from his own table by a female half his size, Graham filled his plate and sat down. Adelaide sipped her hot chocolate and regarded him with the same indifference as she had the mail earlier.

  “It is customary to say ‘good morning’ when one enters the room,” she remarked.

  “I’ll try to remember that.” Defiantly he bit into his toast and picked up his own stack of letters.

  “Why does Penelope not join us for breakfast any longer? She always seemed to enjoy it when she was with us.”

  “Maybe she tires of the company,” Graham responded rudely, casting aside one letter and opening the next.

  “I certainly would if I had to look at that scowl every morning,” Adelaide said. “But then, the little baroness shows astonishingly odd taste in marrying you. I hope the price of saving her home was not greater than she expected.”

  Graham threw down the letter and glared at his sister. “And just exactly what is that supposed to mean?”

  Adelaide studied her older brother over her cup. “Why, nothing, I am sure. Penelope is a perfect widgeon for helping others. I am certain she thought she could offer you as much as you gave her when you married. She was quite right, too. She turned a surly, crotchety old invalid into a human being again. For a while, anyway. The task of perpetually redoing her efforts must become a trifle tedious, though. I suppose you offer adequate recompense?”

  “Addled, you are. Our parents named you wisely. If you have a thought you would like to share with me, by all means, please do. Otherwise, let me return to my reading.” Graham glared at his sister.

  “I only wondered if you thought paying handsomely for her house in Hampshire, buying her those lovely clothes, and bestowing a ridiculous amount of spending money on her would be sufficient to make Penelope happy? Do you think your wealth sufficient payment for her love?” She added this last impatiently at Graham’s blank stare.

  Finally comprehending, Graham gave his sister a look of disgust. “You are all about in your tiny little belfry, ’Laidie. Now be a good little girl and go run and play. I have work to do.”

  Adelaide snatched the letter from his hand, tore it in two, and flung it beneath the table. “That is why Guy Hamilton escorts her out every morning or brings her home every evening. And that is why Guy Hamilton will be escorting her to the biggest social event of the summer, I suppose? Don’t you ever learn, Graham? Isn’t that the reason poor Marilee sought comfort in his arms? Or do you think both your wives so greedy they needed two men to keep them happy?”

  Adelaide struggled her unwieldy belly from the chair and turned to walk out. Graham caught her wrist.

  “Are you trying to tell me Penelope has taken a lover? Because I won’t believe it, you know,” he said through clenched teeth, wanting to believe this, but doubting his own judgment.

  Adelaide glared. “Upon my word, Graham, you put me completely out of charity with you. Do you think you fool anyone with that pretense of nonchalance? I saw you yesterday. It was Guy you wanted to come to cuffs with, not poor Arthur. You didn’t know Arthur was there until you rode that poor beast of yours into a lather and tore up half the lawn. I wouldn’t give you credit for the wit of a goose, big brother. I know you too well, no matter how you choose to paint your face.”

  With that startling remark Adelaide jerked her arm free and stalked out, her beribboned curls held high. Graham stared after her in confusion and decided his head hurt more than he knew. Adelaide occasionally had that effect on people.

  But her arguments stayed with him. Adelaide had not told him anything he didn’t know, except for her mention of the social event of the summer. He would have to track down that reference, but it didn’t signify as the others did. He knew Penelope craved a family and love. He had taken advantage of that knowledge when he had made his outrageous proposal to her. He didn’t think she was as young and impressionable as Marilee had been when she fell for Guy, nor were the circumstances the same. And in any case, Guy was older and more mature and knew to beware of these things—unless he was as smitten as she.

  Cursing himself for allowing these doubts, Graham gave up his effort to read the post. He knew Penelope wasn’t in her chambers. The only time her doors would open to him were when she wasn’t there. If she were in the house, he would have sensed it. He knew the sound of her footsteps, her laugh, even the echo of her whisper in the drafty halls. He would go out and check the stable.

  To Graham’s relief, the stable boys told him that Penelope had ridden off this morning with one of the grooms. Adelaide’s suggestion that she was out with Guy had been pure conjecture. Telling himself that Penelope had too much good sense and too many morals to dally with the likes of Guy, he mounted his own horse and started down the lane. Perhaps it was time to find some way of putting an end to this estrangement, although after his performance yesterday, it would be no easy task. Penelope had been as horrified as everyone else by his rudeness, and more curious.

  With a grunt Graham noted Guy riding toward him. They met in the center of tree-lined lane leading to the Hall. Graham kept a close hold on his stallion’s reins as it pranced nervously. He waited for Guy to speak.

  “I want to talk with you.” Guy said coldly.

  “I’m not stopping you.” Graham remained noncommittal.

  “Arthur won’t tell me what that scene was about yesterday, but I can guess. You don’t really intend to challenge him, do you?”

  “What difference is it to you if I do?”

  “He’s a bloody cripple, Trevelyan! It would be insane.”

  “One cripple against another seems fair to me.” Graham shrugged and let the stallion move ahead a few steps. “He’s been given fair warning. I cannot do better than that.”

  “Graham, you have taken leave of your senses! It’s been five years. Everything has changed. You can’t blame the man now for the boy of five years ago. Haven’t you ever heard of forgive and forget?”

  “I’ve told you before, Guy. You don’t ever forget the sounds of your wife screaming in agony and dying in your arms. You live with the horror for the rest of your life. How can I forgive? All I can do to avenge her pain is extract the same from those who caused it.”

  With that, Graham gave his horse his head.

  Penelope looked up in astonishment at the rider racing across the field. It certainly could not be Gr
aham. He did not know the orphanage existed nor that he would find her here. Besides, the horse was a roan and the rider too lean.

  She wiped the beads of perspiration from her face with her apron and gazed proudly at the gray trim she had just completed painting on the farmhouse porch. The pale gray seemed to blend with the weathered old bricks and timber of the house. It needed only a few baskets of ferns and maybe a pot or two of geraniums to offer warmth and welcome. That was what she wanted to accomplish—a place of light and open air instead of the cold, dismal, narrow lanes of London. Children could thrive in these surroundings.

  Wiping her hands on a rag, she approached Guy as he threw himself off of his horse. “Surely you are not in such a hurry to see how my color scheme has worked?” she asked mockingly.

  Guy cast the newly repainted porch a look and nodded approval. “You were right. It does work. It seems to be coming along swimmingly, but you are right again. That is not why I am here. Do you have time to talk?”

  Penelope widened her eyes, but obligingly, she pulled off her apron and lay it across one of the workmen’s benches. Shaking wood shavings from her old cotton gown, she took Guy’s arm.

  “Let us find somewhere out of the hustle and bustle, and then you may talk as you wish.”

  Guy found a cool nook beneath the shade of an apple tree next to the well house. Throwing his handkerchief down on the rickety wood bench, he seated Penelope, but he continued to pace up and down in the dust.

  “I cannot know where to begin,” he complained. “I do not know what Graham has told you, nor do I wish to say more than I should. I just know something has to be done, and he will not listen to me. I pray that you have some influence with him.”

  Penelope twisted her fingers together and watched Guy’s handsome face pull taut with worry. He so seldom showed the world aught but good humor, she knew he must be extremely vexed. “If you speak of Graham, then you, and possibly his cousin, are the only ones to whom he listens. I am the very last person whose advice he will take unless the matter concerns Alexandra.”

  Guy jammed his hands into his pockets. “He does not listen to me, by Jupiter. That much I do know. I do not know what has come between you two lately, but I know Graham will not refuse your request. You are everything good for him, and he knows it.”

  “I could wish that were so, Guy, but it is not. He has rejected me more than once for reasons I do not understand. I cannot help.”

  Her sadness jarred Guy from his pacing. He dropped to the bench beside her and took her hand, forcing her to look up at him. He groaned aloud. “Don’t tell me that, Penny. I thought you had tamed the beast, that you, of all people, had learned to stand up to him. Don’t tell me he has scared you away, too?”

  Penelope studied Guy’s lean, dark face. “I do not fear Graham, no. I just don’t understand him. I thought, at first, it was the scars that made him turn his back on people, that he feared ridicule, but it is not that, is it? When we first met, he did not want to frighten me, and I think that is all that kept him from appearing in public. But then, sometimes, he grows so angry he seems to enjoy frightening people. That is when I don’t understand him. How can he be so gentle and thoughtful sometimes, and so abominable at others?”

  “I cannot give you answers, Penny, but perhaps you would understand his anger better if you knew more about him. He has told you a little of the accident, hasn’t he?”

  “He has told me nothing. What I know I have learned from others.”

  “That is typical. Graham never talks of himself. Did you know he spent a summer learning to sail with Nelson?” At Penelope’s incredulous shake of her head, he continued, “Neither did anyone else at the time. It was Nelson himself who mentioned it, claimed it was a damned shame the navy lost a sailor like Graham because he was an only son and tied to the land. And Graham was just a boy at the time. Graham has a penchant for conquering mountains and never telling anyone. He just does it for his own enlightenment.”

  “I can understand that, but why do you tell me this? Does he regret the loss of his ability to do whatever he wishes? For I do not think there is much Graham cannot do if he puts his mind to it. I have never seen a one-eyed man win a target shoot before, nor a lame man walk faster than the healthy, but Graham can.”

  “That is something else that bothers me, but let us take one thing at a time. I was talking of the carriage accident. Anyone else would have described every last bloody detail to any who would listen. They would have sent out militia to track down the ruffians who caused it. They might eventually grow tired of the subject, but they would certainly have mentioned it to a new wife who must look at the results. But not Graham.”

  Penelope bent him a puzzled look. “Someone caused the accident? How?”

  Guy stood up and began to pace again. “I am not the one to be telling you this. Perhaps you should talk to Arthur, or heaven forbid, DeVere. I owe Graham my life, and in return, I cost him his wife. I was the one she was riding to that night.”

  At Penelope’s distressed look, Guy sighed. “It’s a long story, Penny. My father had just died and I had come into a large inheritance I did not know how to manage. I fell in with a fast crowd. I make no excuses for myself. I hope you’ll never know of the kind of places I frequented.”

  Penelope looked down at her hands. She could very well imagine what kind of places he spoke of, and she had difficulty fighting a blush.

  “I belonged to a club that started out as a fast set of whips. We caroused together as young bachelors will. Graham grew bored and left. The rest of us were equally bored but sought wilder pleasures. Some new men joined who weren’t adverse to disregarding the law. One thing led to another, until finally when my acquaintances took up what amounted to thievery and violence, I regained my senses and reported them to the authorities. Those who had enough influence to escape the law were quick to exact their revenge. Graham was the one who came to my rescue.”

  Guy took a deep breath before continuing. “Graham carried me to his home. He and his wife tended my wounds with their own hands and managed to make me feel a hero instead of a fool. In return I fell madly in love with Marilee. In time I learned she returned my affections.”

  Penelope held her opinion to herself but tried to puzzle out how this affected her. “So you asked her to elope with you?”

  Guy shook his head and ran his hand through his hair. “No. Never. When I realized what was happening, I left Graham and Marilee at the Hall and fled to London. Unfortunately my enemies were not aware of this. I had information that could have caused them damage, and they were determined to prevent me from revealing more. I wouldn’t have because it involved close friends I’d hoped to protect, but they didn’t know that. What happened later I could only learn from the servants at the Hall.

  “Graham was out when a message arrived for me. It was unsealed and Marilee was uncertain whether it should be forwarded immediately, so she read it. The note warned that my life was in danger if I did not flee the country immediately. She could not know it was meant to draw me from the safety of Graham’s protection. According to the servants, she panicked, threw down the note, and ordered the phaeton.”

  Guy lifted his head to meet Penelope’s gaze. “While the carriage was being readied, she packed a bag, apparently meaning to flee the country with me. She was very young and foolish. But that is neither here nor there.” He looked away from Penelope’s shocked expression.

  “She drove the phaeton herself, at a reckless pace for a rainy night by all accounts. The rest I cannot know for certain, only these parts I learned from a few involved. Graham must have come home or seen the phaeton and followed. Somewhere he caught up with her and she let him in. There wasn’t time for him to turn it around, and I daresay he was too furious to think of it, probably imagining to fly to London to confront me with my betrayal of his friendship.”

  He paced nervously. “Graham and I had similar phaetons. In the driving rain that would be all that was recognizable, the siz
e and build of the carriage. My would-be murderers probably couldn’t see who was at the reins; they just expected me to be the one responding to that letter. I doubt that it would have mattered in any event. They were drunk and ready for murder and had reason to hate and fear Graham as much as myself. Their attack had to be deliberately planned for that particular spot. It was the most dangerous point along the road, and the easiest place to make it look like an accident. Only Graham knows for certain what actually happened that night—Graham and whatever few of my club mates are still alive. Somehow, they must have panicked the horses so that even Graham couldn’t control them. The phaeton overturned just where they planned it, at the bridge over a ravine. Both Marilee and Graham were thrown out onto the rocks below. Graham has never told me all that happened that night, but you can imagine it for yourself. It should have been me in that carriage, but instead, it was Marilee who died for my sins.”

  The words tumbled from Guy’s lips with a revulsion not only directed at the offenders, but himself. The pacing wasn’t sufficient, and he ran his fingers through his hair. “I cannot begin to tell you of the horror that spread over the countryside. No one could speak of that accident for too many were involved, and the circumstances were horrifying. The perpetrators disappeared, all of them thinking Graham as dead as his wife. Knowing my guilt, I left, too. Graham was left alone with no one but his sister and his father, and his father died not long after.”

  Guy came to a halt in front of Penelope and stared at her in anguish. “Can you not see what I am saying? Graham has a right to be angry, to scorn us all. It was not fear of frightening people that has kept him from facing society, but hatred for that society. Whatever happened that night has scarred more than his face, Penelope, and I’m afraid it will come to harm you and others if he cannot be persuaded to reason.”