by Cheryl Holt
She stopped, and he could almost see the wheels spinning inside her head. When comprehension began to dawn, he finished her sentence for her. "I said I was trying to figure out how to handle the situation. Well, I had decided how to proceed, but I couldn't quite get the scoundrel to agree to my terms." He waited, letting the weighty admission sink in. "It's your father, Penny. The duke seduced Caroline while she was in England, and she came home a few months later and gave birth to Harry."
If he'd imagined she might perform some thoroughly feminine act such as fainting, swooning, or vehemently denying his charges against her father, he'd been absolutely wrong.
Laughing wearily, she said, "So ... another of Harold's children comes home to roost." She stared down at the table for a very long time. "And that makes Harry my brother." The simple statement hung in the air, and she worked it over, pondering the implications and finally asking, “What was the purpose of having me befriend him when you knew we would grow attached but never be able to see each other again? Was I to be the mother for the week? Or did you surmise, perhaps, that I would have such an insignificant impact that he'd be able to quickly forget I was ever here?"
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"No, it wasn't like that. Not at all. I was excited for you to meet him. I hoped—and I realize it was selfish—but I hoped if you ever discovered my scheme, that knowing Harry would lessen some of the bite. I supposed that meeting him would help you to understand."
"Well, I regret to inform you that Harry or no, I shall never understand."
"I love my family, Penny."
"Love," she said, letting the word swirl on the tip of her tongue as though checking its flavor. "Of a sudden, you're certainly ready to throw it around, aren't you? You seem to think it excuses whatever insane havoc you want to wreak, but I have to tell you: It doesn't. I doubt that you even know what it means."
"I know exactly what it means!" he said fervently. "It's what I savor with you. I didn't fancy loving you. I admit it! I didn't want to suffer any tenderness for you at all. My goals would have been much easier to accomplish that way. But I love you, Penny. I love you more than my life. And I can't imagine what would ever become of me if I had to live one day without you by my side."
"You're very good at this," she mused without a single hint of emotion, completely unmoved by his heartfelt avowal. "Colette has always insisted you were some type of confidence artist. I didn't want to believe her, but I see that she was correct. You have an interesting ability to use just the right words at just the right time in order to further your purposes, but you can relax. There's no need to keep laboring so diligently. My eyes are open wide, so your gibberish no longer has any effect. You don't have to keep up the ruse."
"It's not a ruse! I don't want the duke's blasted money! I don't want his recognition of Harry! I'm no longer concerned about any of my demands." Not daring to touch her, he implored with his eyes, but it was clear they'd moved far beyond the relationship they'd once relished. She'd become a stranger, but he couldn't give up. Pleading now, he explained,
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"I'm going back to America, Penny. In a few days. With Harry and Matthew. Marry me. Come with us. We love you and need you. Come ... be part of our family."
He waited an eternity, his entire future hanging in the balance. Finally she responded, "I'm leaving in the morning."
"To go where?"
"Back to my father's house. Where do you think I would go? There is nowhere else."
"I can't let you. Don't you understand what he's like? How little you matter to him?''
"I understand. More than you could ever fathom," she said, "but I would rather pass the remainder of my days there, with people who have always and openly shown me their disregard, than to spend another moment here with you, where it's all been lies. At least in my father's home I know where I stand. I have no illusions."
She rose, and he rose as well. "Penny, don't leave it like
this "
"Do you want to know the most ironic part of all this?" She didn't expect an answer or care what he might choose to respond with. "You did all this for money."
"No, no," he protested. "It wasn't just the money."
"Oh, spare me!" she jeered. "In the end it was all about money. And I'm going to have so much! My trust and my dowry. I would gladly have given you every last pound to my name. All you had to do was ask me for it."
"I failed in every possible way," he said, feeling angry now as well. At himself. At her. At her father. At his brother. At poor, deceased Caroline. At the entire bloody world. "I've made a mess of everything. I accept it! I agree completely! I'm a fool! An ass! A despicable excuse for a man!" He realized it was too late to make amends, but he professed his mistakes anyway. "There! That's what you desired to hear from me, isn't it? Are you happy now?"
"No," she said, staring at him as though he hadn't under-
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stood a single comment she'd spoken.' 'Actually I don't believe I shall ever be happy again."
The back door opened, and Colette entered. The maid was obviously a servant with many years' experience, because she didn't so much as raise a brow when her mistress picked up two loaded pistols from the kitchen table.
Penny handed one to Colette and kept one for herself as she said to her maid, "I'm going to sleep in your room." Then she returned her attention to Lucas. “I really can't trust anything you say. I know you've contended that you won't hurt me, but just in case you haven't told me all your intentions, we'll be barricading the door. One of us will remain awake through the night to keep watch, so it won't do you any good to attempt an entrance."
"Penny ..." he breathed, holding out a hand to her in supplication.
"One other thing," she said.' 'I hope, after all you've accomplished, that you'll watch over Paulie. That you'll get him off the streets and take him with you to Virginia. You owe him that much, don't you think?"
"I had always planned to do exactly that," he asserted, but he could see that she didn't accept his assurance.
"And I hope"—tears welled into her eyes again, but this time she refused to let them fall—"I hope ..." she began again, but she couldn't finish whatever she'd meant to say, and she marched by him and into Colette's bedchamber. The maid sent him one ferocious glare, then followed.
He stood in the kitchen, listening to the noises coming from the other room. They moved a large piece of furniture in front of the door. There was whispering. Then silence. Finally he walked outside to the dark night, where he could be alone with his tortured thoughts.
CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN
Penny walked down the hall to Harry's room. She could hear him talking to Paulie about a horse Lucas owned at their farm in Virginia, how pretty it was, how fast it ran, how it had won a race at a fair. Lucas had let Harry sit on the animal's back while it was paraded in front of the crowd. For several minutes she lingered unnoticed, outside the door, listening to his tale as his young voice washed over her.
Although he spoke in his four-year-old manner of only the memories that had directly affected him, in her mind she vividly depicted the beautiful country day in America: the brown clay of the track, the green of the common in the middle, the owners' box seats with colorful red and blue bunting draped across the front.
It would probably have been a hot summer afternoon, the people casually dressed, the men in shirtsleeves, and ladies perfectly turned out in their party dresses, their skin shielded from the scorching sun by straw bonnets and lacy parasols. Lucas and Harry would have been in the middle of it all, stroking the winded horse while accepting congratulations from their friends and neighbors.
If she momentarily saw herself standing proudly next to them
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with a hand slipped through Lucas's arm, rounding out the portrait of a handsome, happy family, that was only to be expected. After all, that was the type of vision she'd often imagined for herself from practically the f
irst time she'd laid eyes on Lucas Pendleton. The Virginia fair was the type of bliss-filled occasion about which she'd often fantasized, and as she tarried in the corridor, the image overwhelmed her senses until it became so real that she was certain she could smell the fresh-cut grass and the sweat of the tired animals.
Madness, she whispered to herself. This is madness.
None of her dreams was ever going to come true, and it didn't do any good to torture herself over what would never be. Her wishes for the three of them had been those of a foolish, silly female who insisted on believing in romance and grand passions, when she had been shown over and over again that such impossible notions do not exist. The girlish illusions that had sustained her needed to be put aside.
Reality was a bitter tonic to swallow, but swallow it she must while she forced herself to face facts: Her life would never be filled with the great ardor for which she'd always yearned. Where she was concerned, it simply wasn't meant to be.
Time to get on with the business at hand, dreadful though it was. She shook off the depressing picture in her head. There would be no trip to America. No home in Virginia. All that was left now was for her to say her good-byes and take her leave.
Pausing a moment, she was smoothing the creases of despair and worry from her brow and stepped toward Harry's door, when she realized that Paulie was speaking. From the questions he asked, and the topics he mentioned, she could tell that he was enjoying a fantasy much like her own. He could imagine himself in Virginia with Lucas and Harry, and she allowed one more brief interlude where she saw Lucas with both boys, and she couldn't help but hope that one good ending would come
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from all this misery. Paulie would find a family, and Harry an older brother.
Calming herself, she waited for a lull in their conversation, then she entered. She wanted to smile but couldn't. The agony in her heart was too vast, and she couldn't put on a false front. Not even for the two of them, whom she liked so much.
"Hello, boys," she said.
"Hello, Penny," they said in return. They were as subdued as everyone else in the house and had played quietly all morning as Penny had huddled in her room with Colette, initiating the plans for her departure. Neither of them knew what had happened, but they understood that something terrible had occurred. From the looks of it, they were both obviously braced for bad news.
Paulie, being the elder of the two, was more observant. He stepped forward and said, "What is it?"
"I need to chat with Harry. Could you give us a few minutes?” At being cut off from the important discussion, he gave her such a sad stare that her composure nearly shattered, and she rested a hand on his shoulder. "I need to speak with you as well. Privately." The reassurance appeased him, and she motioned toward the door. "You go on downstairs. I'll join you shortly."
He hesitated, then left. She stood before Harry, taking him in, tracing his features with her eyes so that she wouldn't forget anything about him, and so that she would always remember exactly how he'd appeared on this last, hideous day.
In the short time they'd been together, she'd come to think of him as her son. On the handful of occasions when she'd pondered why their relationship had deepened so quickly, she'd told herself that her affection for Lucas made it easy to love the boy. But when she added in the fact that they were closely related by blood, it made their connection completely comprehensible. To learn that he was her brother was actually quite thrilling.
Would he remember her in years to come? Or would his
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four-year-old cognition quickly let her go? She hoped he'd recall her kindly, fondly, and often, even if it was a vague recollection, and when he was older, she wished Lucas would tell him that Penny was his sister. Lucas could explain how much Penny had cared, the reasons she'd left, and why she hadn't been able to return.
Uncertain as to how a young child processed grave events, she didn't want him thinking badly of her, or—heaven forbid!—believing that it was something he had done that had caused her to go.
She had to assume that when the time was right, Lucas would handle the accounting gently and tactfully, and that a more mature Harry would come away with a valid grasp of past history. But what would actually occur was anyone's guess. She was far beyond the place where she understood anything about Lucas and how he might or might not act. The riddle of how his mind worked remained one of the world's greatest mysteries.
Thankfully he'd left her in peace during the long night, a fact she knew for certain because she hadn't slept a wink, so she was aware that he'd left the kitchen shortly after she had, and he hadn't returned. When she'd heard the two serving women strolling up the drive shortly after dawn, ready to begin their chores, she'd slipped out of Colette's room and cautiously went to her own, with Colette following close behind.
Once the day was under way, she'd sent Colette to check the barn, and the maid had reported that there was no sign of Lucas or his horse. To where he'd ridden or why, Penny hadn't a clue, but it was typical of him to vanish, knowing she would be gone when he finally appeared. They would never have another opportunity to converse, she'd never see him again, and her last memory would always be of the angry words they'd exchanged that had brought about their parting.
The notion lay like a heavy ball of lead inside her stomach, weighing her down with the sadness of all that was lost, and it seemed to have sharp edges, poking at her with the most
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inopportune reminders of the asinine dreams she'd brought with her to the small country house.
Had it been only three weeks? How could one woman so completely immerse herself in a new life in such a short time?
She'd been a different sort of person before she'd gotten the chance to mother Harry, before she'd passed so many hours with Lucas. She had been so in love with him, and that spot— the one where she kept all her powerful feelings for him so carefully hidden and tended—that spot was empty, the overwhelming emotions she'd harbored replaced by remorse and bitter regret.
How was she to go to London and carry on as if nothing had happened? She was no longer the girl her parents had raised. She was no longer the young woman her father had manipulated and exploited. In all actuality, she felt no connection to those dreadful people. After meeting Lucas, the tether that had bound her to them had been efficiently snapped, and she had no inclination to see it reattached.
Her life was here. Her future too. She still felt like Lucas's wife and Harry's mother, but she wasn't either of those things.
Who was she now, and where did she belong?
When the boys had awakened and descended the stairs full of mischief and appetite, she'd fed them Cook's morning concoction of eggs and ham while she listened to their chatter, but even though she tried to display her usual enthusiasm, it was abundantly clear that something was amiss. A pall hung in the air, as though someone had died. The acrimonious comments she'd exchanged with Lucas hovered in the kitchen, and the boys were conscious of the tension. It was too overwhelming for them not to notice, so they did their best to cheer her, but nothing they did or said could coax a smile.
If they'd had any doubts about the seriousness of the situation, they vanished once Penny had given Cook a few coins and sent her into the village to hire a carriage and driver who could make the trip to London on short notice. To rent the conveyance, she'd paid with her own money, using the coins
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Colette had sewn into her cloak on the night she'd thought she was eloping, and she was heartily glad that her maid had had such foresight. Her only other option for getting to London was to tarry so that she could ask Lucas for assistance, and she'd have walked to town before she'd have allowed him to aid her in any manner whatsoever.
Without question she was the biggest idiot who'd ever lived, the proof being that she still experienced such a surge of emotion every time she thought about Lucas. Despite all, she still wished she could
see him one last time. Talk with him one last time. Touch him one last time. Lie with him in his bed, one last time. Her desperate longings pressed in on her, making her heart ache with a strain so enormous that she truly wondered if it might quit beating altogether.
How could she continue to desire him so badly? How did the rogue hold such power over her? Without a doubt, if she spent a second in his company, she'd be deposited right in the middle of one of his duplicitous schemes.
How could she still love him after all he'd done?
Fool! Fool! she chastised herself, shaking her head. She didn't have any valid reason to speak with him ever again. Nor was there any sane purpose for frantically needing to hear his low, melodic voice calling her name in good-bye. It was best that he was away, so there'd be no unpleasant scene in front of the boys or the servants. She'd be able to finish her packing and make her final farewells without interruption. As soon as Cook returned with a coach, she'd be ready to depart.
"What is it, Penny?" Harry asked, cutting into her reverie by echoing Paulie's question.
"May I sit down?"
He patted the bed, and she nearly sat next to him, but at the last moment she chose the chair instead, scooting it up so that they were face-to-face with their knees touching, and she was able to gaze into his blue eyes.
"I heard Colette say mat you're going to town."
"Yes, I am."
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"How long will you be gone?"
Tears worked their way to the surface of her eyes, but she tamped them down. She was not going to let him see her cry. "I'm afraid that it might be quite a while."
"Will you be back in time for supper?" he inquired.
His question made her realize that rationalizations regarding her decision were going to be much more difficult than she'd imagined. "No, I won't be back for supper. In fact, I've come to say good-bye."
