by Cheryl Holt
"I'm working on it," he said enigmatically. "I'll probably have everything arranged by tomorrow or the next day."
"Wonderful."
"In the morning I have some business matters to attend in the city. We'll talk again when I get home. In the meantime, Harry will be here, and the two local women. They'll be more than able to fill your day."
"I'm sure of it," she said. "Ah, Lucas? What is your business? I've never asked."
"Shipping, Penny," he said. "I earn my income through shipping. I own five vessels. We're based out of my home port in Virginia, and we do quite a bit of commerce up and down the eastern seaboard of the United States."
"Do you have a home there?"
"Yes, in Virginia. A very nice one."
Her heart beat a little quicker at learning this news. "Will we be going there?"
"Eventually," he said after a long pause.
"I can't wait," she declared, more excited than she'd assumed she might be at the prospect. Other than a handful of trips to her father's country estate in Scotland, she'd never been out of England. She'd never considered traveling so far, or voyaging to such an exotic locale. Her escapade with Lucas Pendleton was growing more thrilling by the moment, and she couldn't believe how glad she was that it was so. The view of her old life was fading quicker than she could mark its passing.
"Where will you be staying?" she asked.
"Just across the hall," he said, gesturing, and there was a long, charged hush as Penny thought about the night, very soon, when she would be residing there as well. A flood of heat shot through her body from her head to her toes. If mere musings
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could bring on such a wave of pleasure, what would the actual event be like? She couldn't wait.
"Good night," she said.
"Yes, good night." But he couldn't seem to make himself leave. For a lengthy time they stood mutely in the center of the room, holding hands and grinning at each other like two love-struck fools. Finally he said, "I'm glad you're here."
"So am I."
"Until tomorrow." He brushed a light kiss across her lips.
Wanting to deepen it so that the feeling would last her through her slumber, she raised her arms to pull him closer, but it was like reaching for smoke. He was out the door and into his own room before she could hold him.
CHAPTER NINE
It was afternoon when Penny woke. She hadn't intended to sleep so long, wanting to be up and about. Considering it was the only place she'd ever lived besides her father's house, she had expected to doze for a few hours, then be ready to face her circumstance head-on. Instead, she'd dropped off completely, and she was ashamed to realize that her two new servants probably thought she was a slugabed. At a previous time in her life she wouldn't have cared, but these were the first attendants of her very own, and she desperately hoped to make a good impression.
When she descended the stairs for her initial entrance, she wanted to look well groomed, so she needed Colette's help, but Colette was already risen and gone out. There was probably some method of calling her, but she didn't see a bellpull or any other means of evoking assistance.
If she rang and Colette wasn't present, one of the new retainers might appear, and she didn't want to meet either of them while in a state of dishabille. At their introductions, she wanted to appear confident and prepared, so she decided to dress herself, something she rarely did.
She walked to the wardrobe and searched through the scant
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offering of clothes. Considering the fact that she hadn't known what to expect from her elopement, the trousseau she'd packed was meager simply because any of her more elegant gowns would have taken up too much space in her travel bag. Of the dresses she'd brought, any would be easy to put on by herself, but a corset was out of the question, so she donned a chemise and an unpretentious blue day dress, one that needed only a thin petticoat.
As she smoothed the fabric across her abdomen and down her thigh, she realized that she couldn't ever remember going without a corset. It felt good to be able to take a deep breath, so she took several—just because she could—and the motion caused a friction on her nipples that she hadn't noticed before, except during the brief occasions when Lucas had embraced her.
Minus all that sturdy whalebone holding them up and pushing them together, her breasts shifted and moved, making her feel scantily clad. Walking to the mirror, she stared at her reflection, leaning this way and that, liking how her bosom played against the bodice, how she could see a hint of her nipples against the cloth. She just might have to abandon her corset more often, especially after she was married. Her husband, she was quite certain, would enjoy the sight.
Unable to manage her long hair by herself, she tied it loosely with a blue ribbon, then looked in the mirror again. She was overly pale, so she gave her cheeks several hard pinches in order to bring them some color.
Obviously her clandestine escape from London had been stressful. Even though she'd passed enough hours in her bed to rest fully, she still seemed tired, groggy, and disoriented. Chances were good that she might feel poorly for a few days, or possibly even a few weeks, while she adjusted, but there wasn't any hurry. She'd have plenty of opportunity to learn her roles and her responsibilities, and in no time she'd be pushing ahead with her usual enthusiasm.
Her examination of the upstairs took a matter of minutes. In
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addition to her own bedchamber, she discovered two others, plus a functional water closet. The rooms were similar to the one in which she'd slept, with sturdy but plain furnishings, colorful wallpapers, rugs, and curtains. She thoroughly explored all the space, but she lingered in Lucas's.
At some point he'd unpacked a bag or two. His clothes were all the same style, workingman's dress, she supposed it would be called. There were several pairs of woollen trousers and leather breeches, cotton and linen shirts, a vest, and an extra pair of boots. In the dresser, one drawer contained what looked to be male unmentionables, and though she was dreadfully curious, she could not find the courage to poke through them.
At the wardrobe she reached for the arm of one of his shirts and pressed the fabric against her nose, inhaling deeply. She probably looked terribly silly, but she couldn't stop herself. His clothing had touched his skin, and his odor was enmeshed in the weave. Despite the strong scent of laundering soap, she conjured an image of him that was so clear, she felt as if he were standing right beside her.
In front of the mirror he'd laid out his shaving equipment, and she picked up each piece individually, handling it, turning it over, smelling the leather of the strap and the soap in its cup, testing the sharpness of the blade with her thumb, rubbing her hand across the soft bristles of the brush. She'd never seen a man's bathing materials before, and she wondered if he might let her watch him use them on occasion after they were married. The thought of being allowed to share such an intimate ritual was thrilling.
There was a secret enjoyment to be had from touching his possessions, but she'd die of embarrassment if he suspected that she'd been investigating him so completely. Her heart was pounding by the time she set the items back down, arranging them exactly as they'd been placed. Then quietly, lest someone detect what she'd been about, she tiptoed out of his room and down the stairs, ready to be welcomed. To her dismay, no one
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greeted her—no servants, no Lucas—and she couldn't help feeling a bit let down.
While she realized Lucas was a man of commerce whose business dealings had to come first, she couldn't help wishing that just this once he had remained at home in order to spend part of their first day together. There were many topics she wanted to discuss with him, especially after the previous night's hasty revelation that his home was in Virginia and they would be going there to live. She couldn't help wondering what the world was like in such a far-off land, what their ocean crossing would entail, how they would pass their time in America
.
For all she knew, this might be her wedding day! If Lucas managed to have the proceedings organized, she could be taking her vows shortly. Tonight might be her wedding night! If so, Lucas would join her in her bed, and while she was certainly ready for such an episode to occur, she was apprehensive about the marital act and the intimacy it would entail. She couldn't help thinking that the coming event might not seem so frightening if she'd gotten to know a little more about him before it happened.
In the kitchen she paused. It was a clean and efficient room, warmed by the smells of baking. Someone had left her a noon meal on the table, a hearty plate of bread, cheese, an apple, and glass of milk. The fare was simple, a far cry from what the French chef at her father's house would have created. As she sat in the chair that awaited her, she noticed a note lying next to the dish. Her heart gave a skip of exhilaration as she recognized it was from Lucas and addressed to her.
So . . . he hadn't forgotten her after all! She couldn't help smiling as she read the words he'd hastily penned.
"Pretty Penny," it said, and the salutation caused those persistent and newly acquired butterflies to shoot through her stomach.
I'm sure yesterday was difficult for you, so I hope you will spend the day relaxing. Ask the two serving women
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if you need anything. I've instructed them to take good care of you. I won't be back in time for tea, but I'll try to make it for supper. We'll have a chance to talk more then, but please don't wait up if I am late.
Lucas
She read it over so many times that she memorized it, looking for nuances and hidden meaning but finding none. Her index finger ran across the dried ink, tracing the lines where his pen had made its marks, until she finally folded it and slipped it into the sleeve of her dress. The parchment scratched against her skin, a constant reminder that his words were with her.
Once again she turned her attention to the table, and surprisingly the sight of food made her realize that she was hungry, and she couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten. The previous day, as she'd waited for night to fall and Lucas to arrive, had been fraught with anxiety, so she hadn't taken any meals, not even any snacks. Suddenly famished, she gobbled down every bite, glad that no one was around to see her appalling table manners.
After she'd finished, a silence descended on the house, one that she didn't care for. She was used to the busy noise in her father's house, where the servants bustled past in the halls, coming to and fro from the rooms. To her brother, Willie, laughing and carrying on just down the hall. To the constant knocks on the front door, carriages in the drive, and visitors in the parlor. At this hour there'd have been a flurry of unending activity.
Forlorn and melancholic, at loose ends, with no responsibilities and nothing to do, she finished her search of the lower floor. Other than the front parlor and kitchen, there was just Colette's room, evidence of her recent occupancy apparent by the fact that her clothes were hanging from the hooks on the wall. A pantry was situated beside it, the shelves mostly bare, as though no one had lived in the house for a while and food was being added for the new tenants.
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At the end of the pantry was a door to the back garden, and she stepped outside into a lovely spring afternoon. The grounds had many fruit trees and flower beds, and she could tell that someone had once gone to a great deal of trouble to have the lawns nicely plotted, though it had been some time since the beds had been turned or the leaves raked away. The property looked sad and neglected.
She made a mental note to ask Lucas to hire a gardener to get it back in shape but instantly caught herself, realizing the request called forth their financial situation. Never before had she worried about money. Economy was a topic about which she knew nothing, and she wondered what kind of budget she'd have. If she decided she wanted the garden tended, could they afford it?
With a smile she thought of her dowry, the substantial amount of money and property that would go to her husband once she was wed. It was supposed to have been Edward's, but she felt certain her father would turn it over to Lucas once he saw how happy Penny was with her decision. Even if he refused, there was still her grandmother's trust, scheduled to come to Penny when she turned twenty-one. The duke couldn't do anything to prevent her from receiving it.
Lucas was about to become a very rich man. For the time being she wouldn't mention the fortune that would soon be his, thinking it best to wait until their situation was untangled, but she was gratified to know that she could bring him a gift that would make his life easier. He wouldn't have to work so hard, and he'd be able to spend more time at home, where they would pass their days in companionable pursuits.
She just knew it could happen that way. She just knew it! They were destined to be together.
Stepping down the path, one that needed weeding in order to keep the vines back where they belonged, she walked through the yard. There was a thick wood shielding them from whatever neighbors might be scattered about the area. Where the grass met the trees, a small boy played, swinging on a rope that hung
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from a large branch. He was short and slender, in functional clothes.
To her surprise, he had white-blond hair very much like her own. It was a bit darker under the top layers, as though it would turn brown as he aged. She approached cautiously, coming as near as she dared, and noticed that he had her blue eyes. A sudden flash of recognition made her feel as though she were watching a scene from her past, when her brother was a child and frolicking in much the same fashion.
This boy's resemblance to Willie was uncanny.
"Halloo," she called, waving, causing him to stop and look at her, and she took a few more steps in his direction. "By any chance, might you be Master Harry?"
"Yes, I am," the boy said, seeming very mature for his age.
"I'm Penny." He made no comment, so she added, "Your uncle Lucas is a very good friend of mine."
"Yes, I know. He told me you'd be here today."
She hardly had any idea how to deal with a child, but she figured that talking was probably the best method for beginning. There was a bench next to the spot where he played, so she went to it and sat. "Lucas isn't here," she said. "He's gone into the city on business."
"I know that too," he replied.
"Well, I'm glad you're here," she said. "It's terribly quiet, and I do believe that I'm quite lonely."
"You don't need to be," he said. "Lucas asked me to look out for you."
“Did he now?'' she asked, pleased that Lucas had been thinking about her, had cared enough to discuss her with the lad.
"Yes."
"And will you?"
"Of course. I'm very grown-up."
"I can see that you are," she agreed.
"I'm almost five."
"Really?" He nodded, and she asked, "Have you met my maid, Colette?"
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"She went to the village with the other women. They'll be back later."
"I see," she said, leaning against the bench and letting the afternoon sun shine on her face, and hoping, even as she did so, that Colette might chance to purchase her a sunbonnet. While her station in life had fallen, some things were simply too important to abandon. "An afternoon stroll sounds rather enjoyable. How come you didn't go with them?"
"I wanted to stay here to see if Paulie would come," he said, grabbing the rope again and trying to swing, but he couldn't quite do it.
"Is Paulie your friend?"
"Yes, but he comes only when I'm alone. No one can see him but me."
"He must be very special," she said. "Does he live around here?"
"No, he doesn't live anywhere."
"Ah ..." she said, thinking this Paulie was an imaginary friend, and recalling the days when she'd had a few imaginary friends of her own. Hers had always been invented because she was so lonesome. Could Harry be lonesome as well? Perhaps they were kindred spirits. "Could I meet him?"
"No. Adults can't see him."
"My, he sounds like a magical boy," she said.
"He is," Harry agreed, looking serious. "And he's old too. He's almost thirteen."
"That is old. I met a boy named Paulie once," she said, remembering the lad who had collided with her, though it now seemed to have occurred a lifetime earlier.' 'He was very nice."
"My Paulie is nice too." He leaned closer and whispered, "He came to me in the night, and he told me a secret about you."
"About me?" she asked, surprised. "What was it?"
"He said you would look like a fairy-tale princess."
"And do you think he was right?"
"Absolutely!" he gushed.
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As easy as that, she decided she loved this boy. How could she not? "It's very sweet of you to say so."
"You look just like the picture of a princess I have in a storybook. Lucas gave it to me. He brought it all the way from a town called Boston."
"I'll bet it's your favorite," she said, amused and thoroughly enchanted.
"It is. There's a picture of an angel in it too," he said. "Lucas told me it looks just like my mother. She's an angel. Did you know that?"
"I did," she said. Lucas had mentioned the woman dying in childbirth.
"But my father's not," he said, looking serious again.
"What is he?" Penny asked, unawares.
“He's a cad and a bounder,'' Harry said, his brow furrowing. “Do you know what that means?''
Penny nearly choked and had to glance off to the trees in order to hide her shocked smile. She bit hard against her lip in order to keep a horrid laugh from bubbling out as she managed to ask, "Where did you hear such a thing?"
"Lucas was talking to Uncle Matthew."
"Ah ..." she said, struggling to tamp down her mirth, and thinking she hardly required Lucas's presence in order to learn all about the family into which she was marrying. If she needed information, she could just sit in the garden and listen to his nephew babble. "Who is Uncle Matthew?"
