He offered his hand to his friend again, and Tim pushed it aside. ‘It is a bit late for that, I think. I am going home, to my loving wife. You will understand, I trust, if the door is shut to you, should you attempt to visit.’
Adam nodded. ‘As my door is now shut to you. But a word of warning. It all may get worse before it gets better. Your wife is none too happy with me. I refused her this morning. If you find letters to her, in my hand? They are old. Burn them without looking. For both our sakes.’
Tim nodded. ‘Goodbye, then.’ And he left him alone.
One, two, three… She’d had to start over on several occasions, for she was so angry that she kept losing her count. Penny stormed into her library and rang the bell for Jem. Twenty-seven, twenty-eight…And why did she even bother with it? For what good did it do to keep your temper, and be agreeable in all things, if someone you thought you could trust used your even nature against you?
Jem entered and looked at her suspiciously.
She waved an arm at the walls. ‘Pack them up again.’
He squinted. ‘Your Grace?’
‘My books. Bring back the crates. Take them down and box them up.’
‘Where will I be taking them, once I’m done?’
‘I have no idea. Box them.’
‘Are we going back to London, or the Scotland property that everyone talks of? Or is there somewhere…?’
‘Away. I am going away, and not coming back. You were right all along. My idea was foolish, and now I am punished for it. So stop arguing with me and box these cursed books.’
‘No.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
He raised his voice. ‘I said no, Miss Penny. I have put up with more than my share of nonsense from you over the years. But today it stops. I have carried these books halfway across England for you. You may not have noticed the fact, since you lift them one at a time. But as a group, they are heavy. And they are not moving another inch.’
‘They are not remaining here,’ she shouted, ‘and neither am I.’
To this, Jem said nothing, merely fixed her with a long, hard look and stood, blocking the door.
‘You refuse to pack the books? So be it. I’d probably have a hard time sorting them from the ones that were already here. It is amazing how quickly one’s things can get tangled with another’s… But never mind that. Go to my room. I will send the maid for my dresses. They are unquestionably mine. Although I never wanted the cursed things in the first place.’
Jem showed no sign of obeying this order, either.
‘What are you waiting for? Go!’ She sounded shrill, even to her own ears.
Jem folded his arms.
‘Look at me.’ She pointed down at her clothes. ‘How long has it been since I met him? A scant two months. And I no longer know myself. I dress differently. I act differently. I do not even live in the same city. I was totally content to spend days by myself. And now, if he leaves me for more than an hour or two, I miss him.
‘Little by little, he has made me into exactly the thing that he wants, and now he is bored with me.’
‘And for this reason, I must pack your things and carry them to you-do-not-know-where.’ He remained unmoved.
‘He does not love me.’
‘I did not think you wished him to. When you dragged me to Scotland—’
‘I was wrong.’
‘And so you wish to compound the first bad decision by making another.’ Jem shook his head in pity. ‘I will admit, I had my doubts about the man at first. But given time, he will love you beyond reason, if he is does not already. It is hardly worth the strain on my back to bring your things down from your room, only to carry them back up again. If you insist on going, you may carry your own damn bags. Your Grace.’ He added her title as an after thought and left the room.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Penny glanced around the room, painfully aware of the silence. When had it become such a burden to be alone? It was what she had always thought she wanted.
She had been in the library for almost a week, leaving only when she was sure that the corridor was empty, to creep to her room to wash or to sleep.
But it had become harder and harder to avoid the inevitable confrontation. Most times, she could hear her husband prowling outside the library door like some kind of wild beast. On the first day, he had pounded on the oak panels, demanding that she open for him, and hear what he had to say. She feared he would shake the thing off its hinges with the force of the blows, but had put her fists to her ears, and shut her lips tight to avoid the temptation of answering him. For she knew if she saw him again, she would forget everything that had happened, and remember only how it felt to be in his arms. She would believe anything he told her, and trust any promise, no matter how false, if only he would lie with her again.
But after a day of thundering, his temper had passed like a summer storm, and the knocking had become quieter, more civilised. His shouts had turned to normal requests, ‘Penny, open this door. We must speak. We cannot go on like this.’
And at last, it had come to her as a whisper. ‘Penny, please…’
And now, for several days, there had been no sound at all. Just the ceaseless rustling of his footsteps on the carpet outside.
It was all foolishness. If he wanted to enter, there was nothing to stop him. He must have the key, for this was his house, not hers. If it was not in his possession, he had but to ask the servants, and they would open for him in an instant. He was the duke. He had proved often enough that he could do as he pleased.
But he did not. He respected their bargain. She had wanted privacy. And he had given this space to her. He would not cross the threshold without her permission. It was maddening. She had gotten exactly what she wanted: a library full of books and all the time in the world to enjoy them.
And yet she could not stop crying. The sight of her own books was torture, for she could not seem to concentrate long enough to read more than a few words. And those she managed all seemed to remind her of her own fate: unfaithful Odysseus and his myriad of excuses, weak will and false guilt. And Penelope, waiting for him, perpetually alone.
Why did it have to bother her so, that her husband had visited his lover? Nowhere in their original agreement, or in any of the bargaining that had occurred since, had there been any mention of his fidelity. She had not asked it of him, nor had he promised. She had held her own against the woman, for a time. But she had always known that the moment would come when she would lose. And she felt dead inside, knowing that when the mood had struck him, he would leave her to her books, as though she meant nothing to him.
And now, he thought that he could wait outside her door until her mood softened, and worm his way back into her good graces. He wanted the best of both worlds: a co-operative wife when it suited him, and his freedom all the rest of the time.
Out of the coldness in her heart rose an ember of burning rage. He had been the first to break the agreement. If he had but let her alone, she could have stayed in her study, and never have known or cared. If he had not insisted on coming to her bed, she would not be feeling jealousy over a thing that she had never wanted. If he had remained indifferent, or neglectful or at least absent, she would have viewed this liaison as just another example of his uninterest in her.
But he had treated her with kindness and respect, almost from the first. He had guarded her from ridicule and shepherded her through the maze of society, then he had touched her, and brought her more pleasure than she could have imagined possible.
And then he had taken it away. Given the chance, he would do so again. She must hold that thought foremost, and make sure it would not happen. The longer she stayed in this house, the more likely her heart would soften, and she would forget how it had felt to see Tim and her husband fighting for the attention of another. She would begin making excuses for it, and then all hope was lost.
She must leave while the anger was still fresh and she had the strength. With just th
e clothes on her back, if necessary. There was nothing holding her here but the fear of confronting him. Once it was done, she would be free. If he tried to stop her in the hall, she would push past without speaking. Let him follow her to her rooms. She would ignore him. She would slam the door in his face again, pack a valise and leave immediately.
She threw open the door, ready to cut him and walk by, but she almost stumbled. For he was not standing before her, but right there in the doorway, sitting on the rug with his legs drawn up to his chest, his back leaning against the frame.
She caught her hand against the wood to steady herself, and before she could stop, she had looked down into his beautiful blue eyes and felt the fight going out of her, as she feared it would. ‘What on earth are you doing down there?’
He blinked up at her, surprised by her sudden appearance. ‘Waiting for you to open this door. I assume you must go to your rooms at some point, but I have not been able to catch you, so I resolved to remain until you came out. I grew tired of pacing. It has been days, you know.’ There was a faint accusation in his voice, as though it were somehow her fault that he was weary.
‘I know exactly how long it has been.’ She could feel each minute since last she had seen him. ‘I would not still be here if I had managed to get my own servant to obey me. He is loyal to you, now, and will not help me move my things.’
‘You really do mean to leave me, then?’ At least he did not waste time in apologies that she would not have believed anyway.
‘Yes.’
‘I cannot say I blame you.’ He looked away for a moment, sucked in a small breath and stood up. When he turned back to face her, he had become the distant, rather polite stranger she had known in London. He gestured to the library. ‘May I at least come into the room? I’d prefer not to discuss this in the hall.’
As though there was a servant left in the house who was not aware of their difficulties. Perhaps he had forgotten how little effort he had made to hide them, when he had been shouting the details through the closed door. She almost smiled, before remembering how serious the situation was. She gestured through the open door and preceded him into the room.
He came through and shut it behind him. Then he turned to face her. His hands were folded behind his back like a penitent schoolboy. His mouth worked for a bit before he could find more words. ‘Have you given thought as to where you will go? Not to your brother, I hope.’
It would be the logical choice. Hector would take her back. But he would never let her forget the mistake she had made in leaving. ‘I do not think so.’
He nodded, obviously relieved. ‘I am concerned for your welfare, although I might not seem so. You understand that there may be a child involved as well?’
She had not thought of this fresh complication to her future. ‘I will know soon enough.’
‘And wherever you go, you will need space enough for your books.’
She looked at the shelves around her, and where she had seen friends before, now all she saw was dead weight. ‘I doubt I will be taking them. Suddenly, it seems an awful lot of bother. And without knowing what the future holds for me…’
‘No.’ There was a wild light in his eyes, and he dropped his attempt at calm. The words rushed out of him. ‘I can understand if you cannot abide my presence after what has happened, but do not tell me that you are abandoning your work because of me. There is a dower house on the grounds. You could stay there. The books could stay here. And you could visit as often as you liked.’
She considered how painful it would be to see him, and forced herself to look away. ‘I would hardly have succeeded in escaping your influence if I were visiting this house as a guest for the majority of my days.’
‘I could go from you, then.’ His voice was bleak. ‘You would have the books, and the space and quiet for your studies. I could go to London. I would not set foot upon the grounds without your permission. And I would be here no more than was necessary to run the estate.’
She stared at him. ‘Does Clarissa approve of this plan? I imagine she would like to spend more time in London.’
‘I do not know. Or care,’ he added. ‘It is a bit late to tell you now. But I only went to her to say goodbye. If it troubles you still, the thought that we might meet in secret, I could travel abroad, or stay at the property in Scotland. It is farther away.’
‘And you would leave the estate to me?’
‘I would be honoured if you would accept it.’
She was confused. ‘You love this house.’
He nodded.
‘You are different, when you are here. It is where you belong.’
‘You, as well. And if it can only be one of us in residence?’ He smiled sadly. ‘Then I wish it to be you. Without you, there would be no estate. And it is wrong that you should be banished from it for my misdeeds, or to suffer any discomfort because of my behaviour. It is my wish that you accept it from me, and anything else you might need. You are my wife. All that I have is yours.’
‘That is ridiculous,’ she responded. ‘I never wanted all that you had. I have need of a quiet place to study. That is all.’
‘And I thought I wanted nothing more than your money.’
‘And a position in society. And an heir…’
He stared at the ground. ‘Things have changed since the first day, have they not?’
‘Yes.’ She smiled sadly at the floor as well. ‘Perhaps we could go back to the way we first planned.’
‘I don’t think that will work,’ he replied.
She nodded. ‘Too many things have changed.’ She’d felt like a fool for even suggesting it, especially after banishing him from her life just a few days before. But when she was near to him, she remembered. And it was so hard to give him up.
‘It would work fine, for a time,’ he hedged. ‘But I am afraid I cannot control my impulses sufficiently to keep our lives as separate as we had planned.’
Impulses? Even the thought made her temper start to rise.
One, two, three…
‘Knowing I could not have you? The sight of you with other men, any other man, even if it was quite innocent, or you were very discreet, would drive me mad with jealousy.’
Four, five… ‘What?’
He continued, ignoring the interruption. ‘Before we came to Wales, I thought if I could keep you all to myself, then you would forget anyone but me. I am sorry.’
‘And you did not tell me that we were neighbors to the Coltons?’
‘Because I did not want you to see them. Especially not Tim, for I did not think I could trust him, given all that has happened. If the world were different, and we were all free, you would have done better to choose him, for his temperament would suit you.’
Adam’s face darkened and his lips twisted in a bitter smile. ‘But I find that I do not care, when you are near, what is best for you or that you deserve better. You are mine, and I want to keep you all to myself.’ His smile softened as he remembered. ‘It was so good, being alone with you. And you seemed content with just me for company.’
‘But what about Clarissa?’ She held her breath.
‘The day I went to her, she sent me a letter, saying that if I would not come to her, she would come here. It would have ruined everything.’ He looked up, and his face was blank. ‘It wouldn’t have mattered. Things are ruined, in any case. There will be less bother, now that Tim and I are quits. I will not need to pretend civility with her. She is angry, and promises to make a scandal. There are letters that I wrote to her.’
He rubbed his hand over his eyes, as though to blot out the memory. ‘They are very detailed. And I would ask you, as a last favour, to destroy them without reading them should they come your way. The words are no longer true, but to read them might cause you pain.
‘But if she does not send them to you, then she will circulate them freely in London next Season. You may be more comfortable if you remain here, far from the gossip of the ton. I am sorry, but whatever might
happen, you should know and prepare yourself. Perhaps it will not matter and she will be quiet, now that she sees we are…apart.’ The last word seemed to come difficult to him.
‘It will not matter to your position, of course. You are Duchess of Bellston for as long as you wish to be. Nothing anyone says will change that. But people will talk. I am afraid you will find it embarrassing.’ He said it as gently as possible, and his face was full of remorse.
The idea of talk, which would have appalled her a few weeks before, seemed distant and unimportant. What did it matter what people said? Nothing could hurt as bad as being without Adam. ‘It does not really matter, does it, if it is all in the past? It is not as if you can change what you did, even if it was very awful.’
He looked hopeful, for a moment, and pulled one of the straight-backed library chairs to him, and sat a respectful distance from her.
‘I know it is too late to say these things. But I would do anything to take back what has happened. I never wanted anything less for you than you wanted for yourself: peace and security. That you might come to harm from behaviours of mine, things that occurred long before you knew me—it pains me more than you can imagine. And if I had known, the day we met, that I would make you unhappy, I swear I’d never have married you.’
She shrugged. ‘You can have no idea what you might have done, for I dare say you had little control of yourself on that particular occasion.’
‘I still cannot remember the details,’ he admitted. ‘Only that I was convinced you were sent by God to lead me to salvation. I’d have followed you to the ends of the earth. And still would, if you would but allow it. You have brought me more happiness than I deserve.’
‘I made you happy,’ she repeated numbly.
He smiled and shook his head in disbelief. ‘You did not realise it? Yes, you made me happy. You are unlike any woman I have ever met. Blazingly intelligent, unfailingly honest, and a rock to which I can cling in moments of turmoil. And when we are together as man and wife?’ He shook his head again. ‘I never knew how it felt to join in love, until you came to me.’
Miss Winthorpe's Elopement Page 21
