by M C Beaton
She tried to remonstrate, suggesting they should at least put up at a London hotel, when Lord Andrew announced his intention of driving straight to Park Street.
“No, my love,” he said with a certain mulishness he had inherited from his parents. “My clothes and valet are still there. I am puzzled by my parents, but not frightened of them.”
“Well,” said Penelope candidly, “they frighten me to death. After all, they did try to kidnap me.”
“They don’t like being crossed,” he said, which Penelope thought was a singularly mild way of putting it, but she held her peace. She was so happy that most things did not seem to matter very much.
The duke was crossing the hall, wrapped in his banyan, as his son and new bride made their entrance. “Oh, it’s you, Andrew,” he said mildly. Then he flapped his newspaper in Penelope’s direction. “Not the thing to bring her to the family home, dear boy. Little seminary in Bath is just the place to unload her.”
“May I present my wife, Father.”
“So that damned Methodist forced you into it,” said the duke with a shrug. “How lily-livered you young people are. Now, if I had allowed every damned Methody to force me into marriage every time I’d had my bit of fun, I would have had a harem like the Grand Turk. If you want your mother, she’s in the library with the black beetle.”
“I insist you treat my wife with every courtesy,” said Lord Andrew.
“Haven’t I just?” said the duke, opening his eyes wide. “I’m breathing the same air as she, and that’s about as much courtesy as she deserves.”
He shuffled off, leaving Lord Andrew fuming.
“There you are,” said Penelope cheerfully. “Now I have shared the same distinguished air as that which your father breathes, we can leave.”
“No we can’t. Come along.” He pulled her towards the library.
The duchess and Mr. Baxter were studying a chart pinned on the wall. It carried the names of various charities with the sums due to be allotted to each written underneath.
“Oh, Andrew,” said the duchess, catching sight of him. “How tedious! You would have to go and bring that creature here, and I have too much to do to arrange a wedding.”
“Sinners!” cried Mr. Baxter.
“We are married,” said Lord Andrew crossly.
“Well, that’s a relief,” said the duchess. “For you caused such an unnecessary scandal, you know. Mr. Baxter learned from Mr. Jepps of your carryings-on at some hedge tavern, and it hurt his sensitive conscience. But if you are married, then there’s an end of it.”
“The sinners have been brought to repentance,” cried Mr. Baxter. “Let us pray.”
Lord Andrew and Penelope looked in amazement as the duchess and Mr. Baxter fell on their knees.
He drew her out of the room. “I do not know what is going on here, Penelope,” said Lord Andrew, “but your idea of lodgings in a hotel sounds perfectly sensible now. Ah, here is Pomfret. Pomfret, why is Her Grace in such a fit of religious fervor?”
“This Mr. Baxter was apprised by Mr. Jepps of your lordships’… er…”
“This is my wife, Pomfret.”
“Ah, delighted to serve your ladyship with the same devotion as I serve the master. Well, Mr. Baxter is society’s latest craze. The more he tells them they are infidels and worms, the more they love him. They claim they have not been so beautifully insulted since Mr. Brummell fled to France. Her Grace scored a victory over Mrs. Blenkinsop by electing to run several charities for Mr. Baxter. She has several hundred protégées in various workhouses and orphanages.”
“Pomfret, my wife and I do not wish to reside here. We will walk in the park and take the air while you find a suitable hotel.”
“Certainly, my lord,” said Pomfret with heartfelt gratitude.
“And engage a lady’s maid for my wife.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“And arrange a marriage. I want to get married again.”
“My lord, I am honored you should entrust me with such responsibility.”
Penelope was relieved when the door of the ducal home in Park Street closed behind her. Apart from saying mildly that he had a good mind to go to Mr. Jepp’s lodgings, see if he was home, and punch his head, Lord Andrew did not appear in the least disturbed by the interviews with his unnatural parents.
They walked sedately in the park, arm in arm, still too much in love to notice the odd looks they were attracting from various members of society.
“How lucky I am,” sighed Penelope. “Poor Miss Worthy. Imagine settling for a deaf duke when she could have had you.”
“Miss Worthy is not a romantic,” said Lord Andrew. “Nothing exciting will ever happen to her. She will continue to lead a dull and uneventful life with her dull duke.”
Unknown to them, in another part of the park, Miss Worthy was walking along with her maid two paces behind her. Miss Worthy was not feeling very well. She had just spent an agonizing hour with her fiancé, and her throat was sore from shouting. Harford had announced his intention of settling permanently in the country, and the horrified Miss Worthy had protested vehemently, but the more she shouted, the deafer the duke seemed to become. Miss Worthy did not like the country. It was too full of disorganized trees, and grass, and animals who did not respect the conventions.
A traveling carriage drew up alongside her, and a gentleman poked his head out of the window and called to the driver to stop.
“Mr. Jepps!” screamed Miss Worthy.
“I must talk to you privately,” he said, holding open the carriage door.
“Very well,” said Miss Worthy curiously. She told her maid to wait and climbed into the carriage beside Mr. Jepps. To her surprise, he lifted the trap with his cane and told his coachman to “Spring ’em.”
“What is the meaning of this, Mr. Jepps?” cried Miss Worthy. “Where are you taking me?”
“Gretna,” said Mr. Jepps. “You are going to marry me and no one else, Miss Worthy.”
She argued and pleaded at length to be put down. Mr. Jepps occasionally interrupted her to kiss her. Her protests gradually grew weaker, and as they rattled out of London, her head was sunk on his breast. It was so much easier to do what Mr. Jepps wanted. And what a scandal she would cause! First engaged to The Perfect Gentleman, then jilting him for a duke, and then rushing off to Gretna with Mr. Jepps. A satisfied smile curled Miss Worthy’s thin mouth. All these men after her! It was proof of what she had always known about herself. She was irresistible!
Lord Andrew was content. Pomfret had engaged a suite of rooms in a luxurious hotel. Penelope had been shocked to find out that he had asked Pomfret to fetch all the clothes the duchess had given her from Park Street. But Lord Andrew had pointed out it would save her a great deal of time at the dressmakers and that he himself would pay his mother for the cost of them. He had followed that by saying that Penelope might wear her spectacles when they were alone as there was really nothing she could do now that would make him love her less. It was rather a backhanded way of putting it, but Penelope gratefully put on her glasses and had all the joy of being able to see her handsome husband clearly.
They had finished dinner and were lazily looking forward to bed when Lord Andrew said seriously, “It’s odd, but I would have liked my parents’ blessing. I fear I am old-fashioned. Still, they will come about in time, I am sure.”
Penelope thought of his parents with a shudder. She was sure they would not.
“Especially when we make them into grandparents,” he added dreamily.
“Neither your mother or your father is being allowed anywhere near a child of mine, Andrew.”
“My child, too.”
“Your crazy mother is not going to come within a mile of my children,” said Penelope, her eyes flashing.
“My sweet, you will obey me. I am your husband.”
“That does not give you the right to make stupid mistakes. Your parents would be a bad influence. My children might grow up as warped as you.”
>
“You have no say in the matter. You are my wife.”
“And you are a hidebound, Gothic, pompous fool. How dare you order me around?”
The couple glared at each other.
Penelope’s face softened. “Oh, Andrew. Can you see your mother dandling a babe on her knee? She would most likely tire of it and drop it on its head.”
He gave a reluctant laugh. “Are you always to have the best of it, Penelope? Are you ever going to say, ‘Yes, Andrew’?”
“All you have to do is ask something reasonable.”
“Penelope, my wife, will you come to bed with me and let me kiss you all night?”
Penelope dropped a curtsy. “Yes, my lord. Most certainly.”
He swept her up in his arms and carried her through to the bedroom.
