As of this morning, he was done trying to talk to her. He would do something better with his time by burying himself with work, instead of torturing himself with memories of Penelope splayed enticingly across his desk.
I will be damned if I let you talk me into becoming your whore.
Bloody hell, if she ever talked about herself like that again, he would gleefully wash her pretty mouth with vinegar.
Lucas picked up the documents on his desk, intending to attempt to finish reading at least two lines this time. Work would remind him of his duty. This was what he’d wanted — a wife who didn’t bother him with expectations of any promises of spurious emotions so he could get on with his work and with his life.
He’d better get to it, then.
Many of his peers found work to be tedious and beneath them, but the truth was he loved this part of his responsibilities. He loved checking the details and knowing how his estates were doing. He loved knowing what his tenants needed and making plans of what to do next. Besides, contracts like the one he held in his hands in that very moment did not sign themselves.
The only one you can’t seem to love is me.
His gaze jerked to the space next to the silver inkpot at the corner of his desk. First, he would need a pen. There must be at least a dozen of the bloody things in the cluttered room, yet not a single one was to hand. The last thing he wanted was to waste precious time searching out the damned pens.
I let you make me feel like an unwanted fiancée for more than two decades.
With grim determination, he strode to the door and yanked it open to find Olivia, Westville and Finchley in the hall huddled together in what appeared to be a riveting conversation conducted entirely in whispers.
“I find myself in need of a pen,” he announced.
The three jumped guiltily at the sound of his voice, then proceeded to gawk openly at the sight of his nightclothes. They wore matching looks of confusion, as if Lucas had spoken in a language they failed to comprehend.
He leveled each of them a quelling glance, daring them to comment, before speaking once more. “A pen. To write with. There is none to be found in my study. I need one.” His gaze swerved to his butler. “Now.”
Finchley snapped out of his daze. “I shall fetch you a pen immediately, my lord.” He paused to give Lucas a sidelong glance. “Er, to write with.”
“Thank you.” He watched Finchley scurry to the end of the hall, turn his head first in one direction and then the other, before heading straight into the kitchens. He sighed in frustration and turned on his heels to return to his desk, vaguely aware of Westville and Olivia following him into the study.
“Good heavens,” Olivia said as she swept a crumpled piece of paper gingerly with her toe. “This is worse than we imagined.”
He shuffled some documents and tapped them on the desk surface. “I’m working.”
“On what?” Westville asked. “The revolution?”
Lucas dropped the documents, creating another jumbled pile on his desk, before glowering at his friend. “What the bloody hell are you doing here, Anthony?”
Westville grinned, undaunted. “I wondered if you would be interested in accompanying me and some friends to Tattersall’s for the auction.” His gaze lingered on the overturned brandy glass on the sideboard. “But it appears you are busy.”
He decided to ignore his friend’s mocking stare. “I have no need for new horses at the moment. There are other things that need my attention.”
“Like your beard,” Olivia said. “Honestly, Lucas, when was the last time you had a shave?”
His sister was becoming as brazen as his wife. At the moment, he didn’t need more reminders of the nymph who’d cast a spell in his house and turned everyone against him.
“In the very unlikely event the two of you failed to notice,” he said in a tone that made Olivia blanch and Westville raise his brows, “I am very busy.”
“Obviously or you would have had time to change clothes before venturing downstairs,” she pointed out.
Lucas tightened the belt of his dressing gown. He didn’t bother to admit he’d been sleeping in the study instead of enduring the cavernous emptiness of the bedchamber he’d shared with Penelope.
Olivia gave him a worried glance. “Would you like to talk about it?”
“There is nothing to talk about except that I am very busy and the two of you are wasting my time.”
Westville held his hands up in surrender. “Suit yourself.” His blue eyes gleamed with speculation. “Perhaps I should ask your wife for advice on which horse to buy, since I will be stopping to attend a meeting with her group before going to Tattersall’s.”
Immediately after imparting the information on Penelope’s whereabouts, Westville turned to leave. He took a single step before halting with a grunt. “I think,” he croaked, “I have found your pens.”
Westville used his foot to sweep away the discarded soiree invitation he’d stepped on, and three pens emerged from under his boot.
“He’s right!” Olivia said with good cheer. “Pens do tend to stay inside rooms like the study.” She clasped her hands together in front of her and turned to Lucas. “Well, brother, it looks like you shan’t be disturbed any longer. I bid you good day.”
Lucas returned Westville’s challenging gaze steadily and indulged in a fantasy that involved thrashing the other man to a bloody pulp. “I shall join you shortly.”
“I’ll be waiting,” his friend replied before adding, “Of course, if you take too long I might decide to go on my own.” Westville’s grin widened. “Meetings tend to adhere to very strict schedules, and Penelope would never forgive me if I arrive late. Charming woman, your countess. We’ve been spending quite a lot of time together recently — ”
Fine. Lucas marched out of the study, noting that both Westville and Olivia turned to watch him as he passed them. He silently wished both of them to perdition. As soon as he reached his bedchamber, he rang for his valet.
What would he say to Penelope when he ambushed her in a meeting where she couldn’t dance out of his reach?
He rubbed his beard. First, he needed a shave.
• • •
“I am getting published!”
Penelope glanced up to watch a bright smile light up Mari’s beautiful face as they waited for the rest of the group to arrive for the meeting. Mari put down a tray of freshly baked teacakes on the table with a flourish.
“That’s wonderful news!” She reached for a teacake. “Congratulations.”
Mari sat on the cream settee opposite Penelope. “I’ve decided to stay with my aunt and uncle while I see if I can earn enough money to live on my own when my recipe book gets published.” She released a blissful sigh. “Isn’t it amazing? I might not have to go back to Bouth after all.” She leaned forward, and the sun glinted on her hair, creating a halo around her. “Do you remember how we used to daydream about living in a cottage together if Ravenstone never showed?”
Penelope chewed on her teacake, ignoring the protest of her suddenly dry throat. “Yes.”
“I’m hoping to earn enough to buy a little cottage somewhere, maybe open a shop with a big kitchen where I can bake and cook … ”
Penelope reached for her cup of tea and gulped down a healthy amount, managing to suppress a coughing fit as the scalding liquid burned its way down her throat while Mari continued to itemize her plans regarding the mythical cottage. Penelope listened attentively, grateful her recent tea problems had gone unnoticed.
She was happy for her friend. Really, she was. Mari was on the verge of living her dreams. And Penelope would be so much happier if only it hadn’t happened so soon after her own girlhood dreams had awakened her with the equivalent of a slap in the face. Maybe Mari would agree to let her live in the dream cottage, too.
She suppressed a grimace. Yes, she could live in a cottage, perhaps acquire the name “Mad Polly” and adopt thirteen cats before proceeding to spend her years making every situation uncomfortable for those around her by lauding about how much better things were in the good old days, before the whole world had turned against her.
Of course, she couldn’t live in a cottage with her friend. Because she was married to Lucas.
Lucas.
Why couldn’t he love her? He’d been so kind, generous and tender with her. Even now, after all the things she’d found out about their marriage, she could almost fool herself into believing there was something in the way he looked at her whenever they passed in the hall, something that made her think perhaps …
She sighed. She was doing it again, making castles out of hay. What was the use of distancing herself from Lucas if she constantly sought for him in her mind? It was bad enough she had to keep a frenetic social schedule so that she could do nothing more at night than sleep. Even then, she indulged in fantasies about the way her confrontation with Lucas ended, alternative dialogues she absolutely knew would one day drive her mad. Her fantasies varied from one day to the next, but they all ended the same way:
She’d confronted Lucas with the truth Olivia had unwittingly revealed and listened as he explained the only reason he kept quiet was he’d fallen madly in love with her and was afraid to lose her. Afterward, he would drop on bended knee, begging her forgiveness.
Then there was the one where Lucas denied everything and told her Olivia must have been mistaken, for he would never use Penelope in such a manner. Also, he had proof of his claim. Lucas would drop on bended knee and beg her to believe him, because he loved her and couldn’t bear to be without her.
Those fantasies helped to ease the ache in her heart, but neither of them solved the fact that her husband had not even attempted to stop her from leaving his bedchamber after their confrontation. She had a fantasy that rectified this problem, as well:
Lucas already loved her, but he’d been so ashamed of his own actions that he couldn’t bring himself to ask for her forgiveness, until he finally accepted he couldn’t live without her. Lucas would promise never to deceive her again before dropping on bended knee to swear his love for her.
The last fantasy was the sweetest, because it was the only one that still had any realistic chance of happening, and she held it close to her heart as she slept.
In the harsh light of day, however, reality returned. The fact was, during their confrontation, Lucas said he couldn’t love anyone. She had rejected his claim, but in the two weeks since their confrontation, she realized there were different kinds of love.
For example, she loved teacakes. She loved them, but she would not marry a teacake even if it magically jumped out of the tray and begged her on bended knee. The notion was so ridiculous she had to fight down a surge of hysterical mirth.
Good Lord, it’s happening. I am losing my mind.
She had dared to fight for a love that had never been hers, and she was being punished for it to set an example for future generations.
“Polly, are you all right?”
Only then did she realize she’d been staring morosely at the teacake for what must have been at least ten minutes. “I’m fine,” she lied.
Her frayed nerves were taking their toll. She didn’t know how long she could live in the same house with Lucas, wondering if he’d taken a mistress every time she encountered him in the hall. Wondering if she’d been a fool to reject him. Weren’t they happy together before that fateful day when everything had changed? She certainly had been. The thought of Lucas doing all the intimate things he did to her to someone else made her literally ill.
“I’m just so happy for you,” she whispered, hoping her friend would not question her claim.
No such luck.
Mari frowned. “That’s very sweet of you, but also hardly convincing. Do you want to talk about it?”
What was there to talk about? The simple truth was she had been very stupid. Was still very stupid, because she couldn’t stop loving a man who was not for her.
“Is it your uncle?” Mari asked. “Has he done something to cause trouble?”
Penelope shook her head. “No.”
“Is it your family? I thought their financial problems were solved,” Mari probed.
She shook her head again. “Papa wrote recently to tell me everything was fine, and Colin is going back to school for the Michaelmas term.”
“Is it Ravenstone then?”
“I wish,” she muttered.
She wished Lucas had never fetched her from Bouth. She wished she could stop loving a man who had so little regard for her. She also wished she could think of something to say, so Mari wouldn’t guess her marriage was in shambles.
“I wish I wasn’t me,” she finally said, half-jokingly.
Mari gaped at her. “What an awful thing to say.” She cocked her head thoughtfully to the side, openly speculative. “If you don’t want to talk about it, all you have to do is say so.”
Now she had offended her best friend. They had always been able to talk about everything, so why was she hesitating?
Because it was mortifying. Because it was unfair. It wasn’t fair that Mari was going to be living the life she’d always dreamed of, while Penelope couldn’t think of a way to get out of the nightmare she’d put herself in.
“It’s nothing, really. Nothing that good old Shakespeare couldn’t use in a play,” she grumbled, annoyed with her ungenerous thoughts. It was too early in the day to wallow in self-pity.
Penelope gave her a determined smile. “I daresay if my life were to be turned into a play, I would only approve it for staging if the actress who plays me is prettier than the one who’ll be playing you.”
Mari paused in the act of taking a sip of tea. “Oh Polly, I’m glad to see marriage hasn’t changed you at all!”
They burst into great gales of laughter until they were both slumped on the settees they sat on.
• • •
Twenty minutes later, Penelope chewed on the last of the teacakes while she tried with all her being to ignore the fact that Lucas was standing in the corner of the room with Lord Westville, watching her eat while Colonel Martin regaled the group with news of events from the House of Commons.
“Your suggestion to add ‘all other animals’ to the proposed amendment to the Cruel Treatment of Cattle Act was a great success, Lady Ravenstone,” Colonel Martin announced. “Of course, we thought adding the phrase would make the other MPs settle for adding only dogs, cats and monkeys to the Act, but the House passed the amendment!”
The group welcomed the good news with applause, but she sensed the colonel was not finished. She paused in the act of taking another bite of teacake. “What happens now?”
Colonel Martin shifted in his seat, his unease obvious. “Now, we wait for the Bill to pass in the House of Lords.” He shook his head with regret. “Alas, my friend, Lord Erskine, is no longer around, and I’m afraid we don’t have much influence with the aristocracy. But,” he continued with his usual optimism, “there is always hope. Especially since your husband is here.”
An uncomfortable silence passed during which she refused to yield to the temptation to look in Lucas’s direction. He’d been staring at her long enough for her to realize that he was only waiting for her to make the mistake of glancing his way.
As if it wasn’t bad enough, he looked unbearably handsome today. Even from the corner of her eye, she could tell his ebony velvet coat hugged his tall, muscular form perfectly, and the features revealed by his fresh shave proved he hadn’t been missing any of the sleep she herself had been deprived of since their confrontation.
She was already weakening in her resolve to stay away from him. Letting him near her again would crumble it, and if
that happened she would be back where she’d started — pathetically begging for any scrap of affection he deigned to throw her way.
Thankfully, she was able to gather enough strength to resist the pull of Lucas’s gaze and keep a part of her mind focused on the discussion.
“‘All other animals’?” Ethan Banks scoffed. “Does this mean every creature, including flies and ferrets, will be protected?”
“And what do you have against ferrets, Banks?” Fowell Buxton asked. He adjusted his spectacles before giving Banks the benefit of his full attention. “Do you think they don’t deserve to be protected by the law, the way people deserve to be protected?”
Penelope stepped in to prevent an argument and to keep her mind on the meeting. “I’m glad the amendment was approved by the House of Commons, and I’m sure Mr. Banks didn’t mean anything by his statement about ferrets.”
Before she could even draw a breath, Lucas fired a question straight at her. “What are ferrets to be protected from?” His dark brow arched in arrogant challenge. “Without them, it would be very difficult to hunt rabbits, which provide meat for many families in need. They are very useful.”
Useful. She didn’t know if he said the word deliberately to rile her, but the hateful term snapped her control.
“I’m sure they are useful to people who hunt rabbits, which is why they need protection.” She met Lucas’s challenging gaze with a glare of her own. “The hunter is interested only in the rabbit, while the ferret faithfully serves by chasing the rabbit out of warrens for the hunter and doesn’t even get anything out of it. The ferreter feeds them only occasionally with milk and bread, and they are usually kept in poor conditions.”
“Hunting rabbits is what comes naturally to a ferret,” he pointed out in an infuriating, calm voice. “And the ferrets get a place to sleep that is free from predators, which is more than what can be said for their natural environment.”
“In their natural environment,” she shot back, “ferrets get to eat the rabbits they hunt instead of having to settle for the paltry diet the ferreter imposes on them. It is a very one-sided relationship.” She looked at him squarely in the eye before delivering a last statement. “Ferrets deserve better than to be misused by the ferreter, who is only ever interested in the rabbit the ferrets give him.”
Time After Time Page 109
