by Cheryl Holt
Her pulse raced again as she imagined the future trysts they could have. She’d never met a man like him, and she didn’t know how to fend off the attraction he stirred. The only method she could concoct was to stay away from him, then vanish when he wasn’t looking.
“I’m sorry,” she lied, “but I have other plans.”
“Cancel them.”
“I have a performance at a private event later on. I’m contracted, so I can’t cancel it.”
He appeared petulant and aggrieved, providing ample evidence that no one ever told him no. The poor boy. He was so spoiled, and it was another sign that they could never have any kind of relationship. She was spoiled too, and she had a nasty habit of ignoring bossy men. If she ever relented and they commenced a liaison, they’d drive each other mad in just a few hours.
“Come,” she said. “I have to get home.”
He rose to his feet without further complaint. They had a delay as his carriage was harnessed, but it was a companionable delay. They chatted in the driveway, and he stood very close, whispering naughty suggestions in her ear and teasing her with compliments that made her laugh.
Once they were in the vehicle, they kissed all the way to her house, so that, by the time her footman helped her out, she was quite overcome.
He tried to climb out too, but she insisted he remain where he was. If he escorted her to the door, she’d invite him in, then would find every excuse to prolong their parting. But it would be ridiculous to prolong it.
She reached up to him where he was lounged on the seat like a lazy king, and he clasped her hand and kissed it.
“I’ll miss you every second while I’m gone,” he said.
“I’ll miss you too.”
“Be safe, will you? Take care of yourself.”
“I’m always safe,” she said, “and I always take care of myself.”
“I doubt that’s true, and I’ll worry.”
“I don’t believe anyone’s ever worried about me before.”
“Then I shall be the first. I’ll fret constantly until I can be with you again.”
They shared a poignant gaze, where she catalogued his features. He was departing, but he didn’t understand that it was farewell. They were smitten beyond reason, and she had to be sensible for both of them. She was better at saying goodbye than any woman in the kingdom; she’d had plenty of practice.
“Thank you for this afternoon,” she told him.
“We’ll have many more—as soon as I’m back.”
“I can’t wait.”
She pulled away and motioned to the driver that they were finished. His outriders jumped aboard, and with a crack of the whip, they lumbered off. She dawdled in the street, her last glimpse of him the smile he flashed out the window.
After he rounded the corner, she spun and went inside. Fish had been watching for her, and she bounded down the stairs.
“Well?” she asked as she slid into the foyer. “Did anything interesting happen?”
“No. We simply ate a delicious picnic under a pretty tree.”
“Your hair is down.”
“I was kissed with a reckless abandon.”
“Are you wild for him? Is he wild for you?”
“Yes, so we’ll flee London for a bit.”
Fish’s shoulders slumped. “But we just got here! And I like this house.”
“I realize that, but we’re not the type to put down roots.”
“Yes, but I’d like to think—at my age—we can manage to stay in one place for a month or two.”
“We have to book a different engagement—and it has to be far from London.”
“Lord Barrett must be incredibly besotted.”
“He might be,” Libby admitted.
“How about you? Are you besotted?”
“If I am or if I’m not, it can’t ever matter.”
“A girl can earn a ton of benefits by allying herself with such a wealthy man.”
“A girl might be able to, but you know my opinion about that sort of illicit bargain.”
“Yes, and you know mine. You’re entirely too morally inclined. It’s a mystery to me how I could have shaped your attitudes for most of a decade, only to have you make such peculiar choices.”
“In most people’s view, Fish, moral conduct is expected and admired.”
“It never took me anywhere, and I don’t see that it’s done much for you either.”
“That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try to be a decent person.”
Fish might have pursued the argument, but Libby held up a palm to prevent it.
“Let it go, Fish. I’m weary, and I need to prepare for tonight.”
Fish scowled. “Is your heart broken? Is that the problem?”
“It’s not broken yet, but if I continue on with him, it definitely will be. So could we please stop talking about him?”
She whirled away and climbed the stairs to her room, determined to act as if all was fine—and it would be shortly.
She had a show to perform, then she had to move and find a new situation. All of it would keep her busy, and she’d forget about Lucas Watson—as she was sure he would forget about her.
She would arrive at that ending. She would save Luke from himself, and in the process, she’d save herself too. She was certain she could accomplish it. In fact, she was already halfway there.
“Tell me again. How many people have you invited?”
“Honestly, Father, you should pay attention to me once in a while.”
Charles Pendleton, Lord Roland, dragged his gaze away from the morning newspaper and focused it on his daughter, Penelope, whom they called Penny. He was having breakfast in the small dining room, and she’d surprised him when she’d deigned to stagger down just past nine.
She’d never been a morning person, and after she’d proclaimed herself to be an adult and no longer a child, she’d declared that she could sleep the day away if she chose. It was odd to see her up and about before noon.
“I always pay attention to you,” he lied, “but how many guests is it again?”
“A few dozen will be housed in the manor—as I’ve been explaining for weeks.”
“And what about the various dances and suppers you’ve scheduled every evening? Will we host the neighbors over and over?”
“Yes, along with the tenant farmers and prominent merchants.”
“What about the ball on the final Saturday night. How many have been invited to that?”
“It’s quite a large group. Aunt Millicent can give you the exact number.”
“For those staying in the manor, I suppose this will include their servants, luggage, horses, and carriages.”
Penny gaped at him as if he was dim-witted. “Of course it will include all of those. The most important visitors are coming from London. We can’t expect them to walk from town and not bring their bags or servants.”
“No, I don’t expect we can.”
He sighed, wishing he could turn back the clock and rescind his offer to host a betrothal party for her.
She was eighteen, so she was barely out of the schoolroom, but even though she was much too young to be a bride, he’d succumbed to her nagging and had agreed to find her a husband. His search had been quick and successful, and they were already marching toward a wedding he wasn’t convinced he should have encouraged.
Many of her friends were marrying that summer, and she was suffering from the feeling that she’d be left behind if she didn’t marry too. He hadn’t been able to persuade her that it would be better to wait, and he’d quit trying.
His own nuptial debacle, perpetrated when he’d been twenty, had taught him many hard lessons, the main one being that a man’s spouse would ultimately furnish all of his happiness or misery. Before jumping into matrimony with both feet, an eno
rmous amount of energy should be expended in pondering the consequences.
She was a female though and incredibly spoiled. She had to have her way in every situation, and again—because of his marital calamity at age twenty—he never had the heart to tell her no.
She was about to engage herself to the premier bachelor in the kingdom, and she’d culminated that coup by goading Charles into funding one of the most extravagant weddings High Society had ever witnessed.
She was adamant that her event be bigger and grander than any of those being planned by other brides, so he was facing a summer of balls and banquets, none of which he actually wanted to pay for and none of which he actually wanted to attend.
The current occasion was typical of how he was being swept along by Penny’s whims. Her decisions were being validated by her Aunt Millicent who’d never seen a farthing she didn’t spend.
Initially, Charles had intended a quiet weekend to ease everyone into the betrothal announcement. He’d envisioned a modest gathering of some cousins, and the engagement becoming official after several days of tepid entertaining.
Instead, Charles had wound up with a two-week ostentatious bash, where he’d have a packed home, overrun parlors, empty liquor decanters, and strangers strolling down the halls.
He’d been determined that the party be comfortable for Penny’s pending fiancé, Luke Watson, who was the guest of honor. Penny had been acquainted with Luke since she was a baby, but he’d been in the navy for the prior fourteen years and mostly out of the country, leaving when she was just four.
She’d only socialized with him a few times, and though she was excited that Charles had picked such a handsome candidate for her, she didn’t know the first thing about Luke. And Luke didn’t know anything about her. Their sole common denominator was the fact that Charles and Luke owned neighboring estates and the families had a fond connection.
Luke was thirty, so he was twelve years older than she was, and Charles viewed it as a blessing and a problem. Penny required the stable influence a more mature husband would provide, but Luke had traveled the globe and fought dangerous battles in the navy. Penny—with her incessant babbling and her focus on clothes and frivolous hobbies—would likely drive him mad.
They needed an interval at Roland to amuse themselves at the pursuits betrothed couples normally enjoyed—chats by the fire, private picnics, walks in the garden—but with Penny being so set on herself, Charles’s idea for a simple event had been smothered by her exaggerated arrangements.
The cost would be staggering, and the stress and strain on the servants would be overwhelming. Throughout the festivities, Penny would be surrounded by admirers, and Millicent had scheduled nonstop activities to keep their visitors busy. At the conclusion, poor Luke would return home no closer to Penny than he’d been when he arrived.
Yet maybe it was for the best that he didn’t learn too much about her. He might realize how flighty and fickle she was. He might skitter back to the navy, never to be seen in England again.
“Have you invited anyone I know?” he asked Penny. “Or will it be all young people? Please tell me there will be some acquaintances of mine too.”
“Well, Luke will be here.”
“He’s not exactly a friend of mine.” Charles was forty-six, and he’d been cordial with Luke’s father, not Luke or his deceased brother, Bertie. “When will he join us?”
“Tomorrow afternoon, and if you inquire again, I won’t respond. I shouldn’t have to repeat myself on every little detail. From how distracted you are, you’re giving me the distinct impression that you don’t care about any of this.”
“I care,” he said. “I just can’t figure out how the numbers swelled from a handful of cousins to a hoard of strangers.”
“You can’t expect me to march toward my wedding as if I’m an ordinary girl, can you? I’m the only daughter of the Earl of Roland. It’s proper that you make a fuss.”
He could have corrected her that she wasn’t his only daughter, but they were adept at pretending she was. He’d had another daughter once, but he didn’t ever like to drag up that prior scandal. He never liked to remind himself—or others—how gullible he’d been.
Penny liked to think she and her brother, Warwick, were his only children, even though they understood they weren’t. There had been a wife before their mother, and a daughter before them too, but they ignored those dark days from his past.
He was happy to let Penny and Warwick assume they were the center of his world, and it was reprehensible for him to act as if the first girl, Little Henrietta, had never existed, but years earlier, he’d accepted that she was dead. The courts had declared it too.
His wife, Amanda, had run off with her lover to Italy, and she’d taken Henrietta with her. Her lover had died in an accident in Rome, and after he’d perished, there had never been a single clue as to what had happened to Amanda and Henrietta. Charles had searched for an entire decade.
Amanda had been a flamboyant attention seeker, and she wouldn’t have hidden herself away, but she and Henrietta had vanished off the face of the Earth. He’d spent a fortune, having investigators scour every corner of Europe, but there had never been any sign of them after they’d been in Rome.
He hadn’t wanted Amanda back. Her actions during their brief marriage had forced him to admit that she’d probably belonged in an asylum. But he’d been terrified for Henrietta, so he’d searched for her.
Amanda had had no maternal tendencies and—after she’d left him—she’d had no money either, so her rash deed had meant Henrietta was gravely imperiled. It was ancient history now, and with Penny about to wed, he wasn’t inclined to fret over the sordid incident. What was the point?
He’d ponder it later, when he was alone and kicking himself for the mistakes he’d pursued when he’d been young and stupid.
Penny was pretty: blond, blue-eyed, short, and plump. Her mother, his second wife, Florence, had been plain, dour, and gloomy, so Penny had turned out to be more fetching than he might have predicted. She’d gotten all of his handsome Pendleton features and very little of her unattractive mother’s.
For a moment, he wondered—if Henrietta had had a chance to grow up—would she and Penny have looked alike? Henrietta would have been twenty-five that year, and if she waltzed in, would she and Penny appear to be sisters? Would there be a resemblance? Or had their mothers’ bloodlines been too different?
Amanda had been gorgeous and glamorous, which was why he’d become so foolishly besotted. He’d had to have her despite the costs. Henrietta had burst from the womb as a precocious, charming vixen. The last time he’d seen her, she’d been two, and she’d already been exhibiting her mother’s traits for dramatic posturing. She’d developed a knack for goading people into watching her.
No doubt she’d have been a stunning, elegant woman. Penny was likely a tepid, lesser version of what her half-sister would have been like and, if they’d ever stood side by side, would have paled in comparison.
He stopped his woolgathering and responded to Penny’s comment.
“Yes, Penny, it’s important that I fuss over you, and you are my only daughter. I intend to send you off to your husband as if you’re a princess. I hope every minute of your party will be smashingly fun.”
“Of course it will be. I’m Penny Pendleton. How could it not be perfect?”
She flounced out, and he sighed again.
He simply wished it wouldn’t be horrid. He wished the gaggle of youthful guests wouldn’t constantly annoy him. He wished Luke would find reasons to like Penny, reasons to proceed with the wedding and not change his mind. The contracts hadn’t been signed yet, so he could walk away without consequence.
Penny’s saving grace was that she had a fat dowry, and Luke’s brother had bankrupted Barrett. That fact ought to keep him focused on what mattered. Penny might be immature and inexperienced, but she
was a great heiress. If Luke started to waver in his interest, Charles would succinctly mention the fortune that hung in the balance.
Luke could be persnickety and stubborn, but he wasn’t an idiot. Money always made a girl more beautiful, and he’d recognize the value Penny’s wealth could deliver. Charles wouldn’t consider any other conclusion.
“I have a question, Aunt Millicent.”
“Please be brief. I have a thousand chores today.”
Millicent Pendleton was seated at a table in her sitting room, enjoying a cup of morning chocolate. It was just after nine, and she wasn’t dressed, but was snuggled in her favorite robe. Penny had blustered in without knocking. Despite how often Millicent counseled restraint, Penny never approached in a calm, ladylike manner.
She and her brother, Warwick, had been spoiled and coddled, and though Millicent had worked to rein in their worst habits, she’d had scant success. Charles was too lenient with them, and whenever she’d tried to put her foot down, the wily pair would rush to him, and he’d countermand any edict Millicent leveled.
He still felt guilty over what had happened when he’d wed that slattern, Amanda. He viewed himself as having been a negligent father who hadn’t protected his tiny daughter, Little Henrietta. He’d let crazed Amanda abscond with her, and he blamed himself for not being more vigilant. The end result had been that he indulged Penny and Warwick, the children he’d sired during his second marriage.
He couldn’t bear to tell them no on any subject.
Luckily, Warwick had joined the army and was stationed in Brussels, so for the foreseeable future, she didn’t have to tolerate him. There was just Penny, and she’d be a bride soon and would live at Barrett with Luke. Millicent would finally have Charles all to herself.
“You’re still wearing your robe,” Penny said as she slid into the chair across, “so how can you be busy?”
“I will be dressed shortly, and as I’ve frequently pointed out, my schedule and plans are none of your business.”
“I’m making them my business. The guests will begin arriving tomorrow, and it doesn’t seem like we’re ready.”
