Too Wicked to Woo: Chronicles of a Bluestocking

by Tammy Andresen

  Chapter Twenty

  Penny paced the entry, her eyes travelling to the closed door of the sitting room. Opening that door now would be like slapping her own face. She’d sent Mrs. Welsh and Mr. Carrington to bed, not wanting to worry them. Truth be told, she didn’t want them to see her worry. She stared at the door again, its panels taunting her. Though staying out of that room hadn’t changed her present. The sad fact was that she still waited on a husband.

  Granted, Wes had only left an hour before and her mother had waited for days or sometimes weeks before her father would limp back in, reeking of liquor, bruised and battered from whatever adventure had gone awry.

  Her heart hammered in her chest as her hands shook. Had he left to meet Catherine?

  How could he? The carriage and horses were all in the barn. Stanley was still brushing them down when she’d gone out to check. Wherever Wes had gone, he’d travelled on foot.

  Perhaps she should look for him. But even as she thought it, she rejected the idea of heading out into the dark. She had no idea which way he might have gone. Should she send Stanley out?

  The idea had merit, and she started for the door. Perhaps they could even go out together.

  As she reached for the knob, it turned and her breath caught. Was he back? A smile touched her lips. Thanks goodness.

  But as the door swung open, she realized that it wasn’t Wes at all. A stranger stood in front of her. She couldn’t see his eyes, his hat was pulled too low, his coat hiding his shape.

  He stopped too, looking at her for a moment before he reached out and grasped her arm, pulling her toward him and covering her mouth before she could even scream. “We’re gonna have a few words, you and me.”

  She tried to wrench away but he held tight, his fingers biting into her cheeks as he pushed her into the house. He wrenched her arm behind her back, her body pressing against his and she drew in a sharp breath as fear made her stiff and her limbs difficult to work.

  He held her while opening the sitting room door, thrusting her inside so she fell backward, her head crashing against the settee as pain exploded in her skull. Covering the wound with her hands, she curled onto her side on the floor. “Who are you?” she moaned.

  “You don’t know?” he harrumphed. “That’s disappointing.”

  Then he grabbed her arm again and hauled her onto the settee. For a moment she was paralyzed with fear. What was he going to do? But he stuffed a rag in her mouth and then twisted rope around her hands and then her feet.

  “I’m the man your husband is trying to ruin. You are going to help me give him some incentive to drop the charges.”

  Penny would have swallowed but for the rag clogging her mouth. She didn’t need to ask who he was again, she knew. This was Charles Southing.

  Wes walked at a good clip toward the house. Would Penny be asleep? He hoped not. But he increased his pace, eager to get home and see his wife.

  He saw the house in the distance, but something was wrong. The front door stood ajar, light from a candle spilling out onto the front steps.

  Cold dread pushed him faster as he raced into the house. His first thought was that an almost eerie quiet filled the space. Gently, he set Penny’s book on the entry table, turning about. The library was dark until he glanced toward the sitting room. The door was open a crack. How odd.

  Turning toward it, he reached out his hand and pushed open the heavy panel, his throat closing as his gaze darted to his wife, bound and gagged on the settee. Her hazel eyes were like saucers on her face as she stared at him, giving her head a tiny shake.

  His teeth clenched. Scanning the room, he stopped as Charles Southing stared back. He stood just behind Penny, a pistol pointed in Wes’s direction. “You’ve finally come home,” the man called, an oily smile making his face contort in a repulsive manner.

  Understanding made his shoulders straighten. The man he’d recognized in the pub had been Southing. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “I think you know.” Southing pulled at Penny’s hair, making her sit up straighter, her face twisted in pain.

  “My wife has nothing to do with our situation.” He put his hands in front of him. Dread made his breath shallow. “I’m sure we can discuss this like men.”

  “We are discussing it like men. We’re going to bargain. I have something you want.” He pointed the pistol toward Penny. “You’ve the power to cease seeking legal action against me.”

  Rage and fear clogged his throat and he resisted the urge to let out a primal yell. Instead, he took a very small step forward, his hands still up. “You want me cease seeking legal retribution and in return you’ll…?”

  “Stop moving.” Southing pointed the pistol at is chest again. “In return I won’t kill your wife.”

  Anger rumbled in his chest as Wes’s eyes narrowed. He needed to stall and slowly move closer. “All right. I’ll drop the charges. In return, you leave us be.”

  “Oh, I can’t do that.” Southing gave another malicious grin. “If I just leave, you won’t honor your end.”

  Wes was in reach of a heavy candlestick standing on a table near the door. Weeks of farming had made him far stronger than the other man. He was sure he could best Southing if he could just catch him unawares. “So you’ll stay here?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. This lovely little dish and I are going on a trip. Once I’m certain you’ve kept your end of the deal, I’ll return her.”

  Wes’s muscles involuntarily flexed. He’d die before he allowed that. With that thought, he reached for the candle stick and wrapped his hand around the heavy porcelain. Southing raised the gun and Wes jumped to the side at the same moment he launched the candlestick directly at the other man.

  He felt the tear in his side as the bullet made contact, but he didn’t bother to look down. In his effort to fire, Southing didn’t have time to duck and the candlestick hit him square in the forehead.

  Southing went down, his body collapsing to the ground. Wes ran to Penny, pulling the gag from her mouth and tugging at the ropes.

  “Wes,” she gasped, her throat raspy. “You’re hurt.”

  Freeing her hands, he pulled at his shirt and lifted it up. The bullet had barely grazed his side. “It’s only a scratch, love.” Then he freed her feet. “Are you hurt?”

  “I’ve got a massive lump on my head but that’s about all.” She reached a hand back to rub it. “Is he still breathing?”

  Wes didn’t want to leave her side, but carrying the ropes, he put his hand in front of Southing’s mouth. “Yes, he’s breathing.” He refrained from adding unfortunately. Instead, he began tying the man up.

  “What’s happened?” Mr. Carrington came rushing in, night cap and dressing gown billowing in the breeze. Wes realized the front door was still open.

  “I was attacked,” Penny answered. “My husband saved me.”

  Finishing with the ropes, he stood and gently pulled Penny up off the settee and into his arms. “You saved me, love, when you agreed to be my wife.”

  She wrapped her arms about his waist. “What do we do now?”

  “We’ll send Stanley back to the village to fetch the constable. Much as I’d like to break Southing’s neck, I’ll let the hangman’s noose do it instead.”

  Mrs. Welsh came in behind Mr. Carrington, just as he spun to fetch the driver. “Oh dear,” she clucked her tongue as she let the butler pass. “Is anyone hurt?”

  “Lord Preston has a bullet graze on his side,” Penny murmured, laying her head on his chest.

  She was worried about him? Even after he’d left her as he did? He ran his fingers up into her hair, a large lump meeting his fingers. She winced, her body giving a jolt. “Lady Preston has a large lump on her head.”

  Mrs. Welsh gave them both a smile. “I’ll get you two lovebirds patched up right quick.”

  “Should we head into the library?” he asked, looking down at Penny. He now understood why she hated this room.

  She shook her head. “No.
We’ll stay here.” Then she hugged him close again. “This might be my new favorite room in the house.”

  That filled him with warmth. “Let’s sit, shall we? Mrs. Welsh has promised to mend our wounds.”

  She gave him a big smile. “I think we’ve done that ourselves.”

  True. They had.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Penny woke late the next morning, sun streaming in through the windows. She was warm against a strong body. Her eyes popped open, surprised to find her head still rested on Wes’s chest. “You’re here,” she murmured sleepily.

  He ran his fingers through her hair. “I couldn’t leave you.” He brushed several strands back from her face. “How’s your head.”

  “Better,” she said. There was still a dull ache, but sleep had done wonders. They’d been up late as the constable had come and taken Southing to village prison. Kidnapping, attempted murder, and theft were the formal charges. The man would hang for them. “Southing took a risk coming here last night. Why didn’t he just leave?”

  Wes looked down at her. “Some men just don’t give up, even when they should.”

  “Are we talking about Southing still?” She ran her fingers along his torso, feeling the ridges of his powerful muscles.

  “My persistence has paid off.” He brushed the pad of his thumb along her cheek then trailed it over her lips. “I had an affair with Lady Kitteridge. I hate that I did. I despise that instead of facing my problems, I drowned them in liquor, opium, and women like Catherine. I would never touch her again.” He leaned down and kissed her lips. “I’d like to tell you that she is the only one but there might be others who we meet.”

  She gave a little nod. “Thank you.” It hurt a little to think of Wes touching that woman, but she also appreciated the truth. “My past made it more difficult for me to trust.”

  “I know.” He kissed her again, looking into her eyes as he did. “Penny. I don’t just appreciate you, I don’t just want to spend my life with you. You are my heart, my breath, my air. I love you forever.”

  Her heart hammered in her chest as she scrambled up to her knees. She needed those words now. “I love you too,” her stomach flipped as her trembling hands rested on his bare chest. “I love you so much.”

  He sat up too, pulling her against him, one arm wrapping about her back, the other just under her behind. “From now on, we need to be more honest with each other.” Then he kissed her, slanting her mouth open as his tongue claimed hers.

  “I agree,” she managed to breath out between kisses.

  He backed up long enough to pull her night shift up over her head. He lifted her, then straddled her legs on either side of his, their torsos crushing together. “I love you, Penny.” His voice was harsh as he pushed into her warm depths, their bodies moving together. “I’m the best man I can be because you’re by my side.”

  She slid up his staff, sliding back down as he settled one hand on her hip, guiding her movements. “I’m better too. So much better.” She ran her fingers through his hair. Something had happened last night, she’d let the past go. Her rake had been her salvation.

  His other arm was still around her back and he softly held the base of her head in his palm as he tipped her head back to lay kisses along the column of her neck.

  They moved together, no more words passing between them as their bodies continued the conversation of love, commitment, and passion.

  As the rhythm quickened, intensified, they clung to one another, kissing, wrapped in each other’s embrace until their passion finally broke.

  “Wes,” Penny cried out, as her body spasmed.

  “I’m here, my love. I’ll be here always.” He found her lips again, crying into her mouth.

  As they slowly floated down, Penny let out a small laugh, her lips vibrating against his. “Do you think I can put this in the book?”

  “Definitely not.” He rumbled against her lips. He lay back then, pulling her with him and settling her against his chest. “But I think an entry about how I am a trustworthy fellow might be nice.”

  She propped her chin on her hands, staring up at him. “I know I told you that the book is Chloe’s but Caroline and Annabelle are going to make entries too. Chloe wanted…” She hesitated. “Chloe wanted to make a secret book that demystified rakes for the ladies of London.”

  His eyes widened for a moment before his brow furrowed. “So you’re going to sell this book? Give it away?”

  One of her shoulders rose in a shrug. “I’m not sure yet. Chloe really just wanted us to face our pasts. We’ve each suffered and we had plans to move away together, never marry, and leave society forever. Once Chloe married, I think she wanted the same for us.”

  He gave a small nod. “I understand. Did the book help?”

  She nodded then leaned up to kiss his lips. “It did. But so did marrying you.” Her mouth twisted. “How could Chloe know that I’d be safe with a rake?”

  “Did Chloe encourage you to marry me?” He trailed his hand up and down her spine.

  “Somewhat.” She brushed his hair back from his forehead. “She encouraged us to research rakes. To meet them and study them.”

  “What?” He partially sat up, his muscles clenching. They rippled underneath her as his face paled.

  Penny quirked a brow. “Wes. I couldn’t have been safer with you. Why are you so concerned?”

  “I am the exception when it comes to men who have…colorful pasts. Most of them don’t want to or can’t reform. Cavorting with such men can only lead to trouble.” He brushed back her hair. “Of course you and Chloe are safe, but Annabelle and Caroline…”

  Her mouth twisted. “I worried about the same. What can we do?”

  “Well, we can’t go anywhere this summer but we can spend the winter in London. And we’ll warn Dryden. I’m sure Chloe hasn’t informed him of her plan. He’d never agree if she did.”

  Wintering in London sounded lovely. “You’d go back to London just to keep my friends safe?”

  His eyebrows crinkled “Penny, I know what they’ve done for you and what Dryden has done for me. Of course we’ll help them. They’re our family now.”

  Her heart filled with gratitude and she kissed him again. She poured her love and passion into the touch and soon they were both breathless again.

  A knock at the door interrupted their kiss. Penny broke away, as she turned to the door. No one had ever knocked at the bedroom before.

  “Yes?” Wes called.

  “Forgive me, my lord.” Mr. Carrington called from the door. “But someone is here to see you.”

  “Who?” Their eyes met. Wes’s were crinkled in concern that she was sure hers mirrored.

  “He says he is your cousin, my lord, and current landlord. A Lord DeWolfe.” Mr. Carrington’s muffled voice came through the door.

  “Gavin?” Wes rolled them to the side and then sat up, pulling her with him. “Tell him we’ll be down momentarily and have Mrs. Welsh put out breakfast.”

  “Yes, my lord.” Mr. Carrington’s shoes tapped on the floor as he returned to the stairs.

  Wes rose from the bed and began to wash as Penny followed suit. “He is the man who’s been farming your land?”

  “Yes.” Wes said as he pulled a shirt over his head. The fabric skimmed down the bandages on his side.

  “Is your wound all right?” She touched his back. Had she been too rough with him? What did his cousin want? The worries that had dissipated rushed back to the forefront, her head giving a throb.

  He turned and kissed her. “It’s fine. Just a scratch.” He reached around to feel the lump on her head. “And you?”

  “Fine.” She nodded fighting the urge to bite her lip. “And your cousin?”

  “He’s a good man. He isn’t here to do us harm.” He crossed the room and grabbed her shift from its spot on a peg. “Now, I’ll help you dress and we’ll greet him together. You’re going to finally meet some of my family.”

  Wes didn’t want Penny to w
orry. He hadn’t lied about Gavin being a good man. He was one of the best. But he was concerned about the visit. He hadn’t seen Gavin since his cousin had taken over managing his land. What had changed?

  Perhaps there was an accident or some sort of disaster? His stomach clenched as he held Penny’s hand down the stairs. She’d tied her hair back in a simple loose style, her dress a crisp white muslin gown. She looked fresh and lovely, like the rebirth he’d experienced. Stopping at the bottom step, he pulled her close, brushing his cheek along the top of her head. “Ready?”

  “Ready.” Her hand rested on his chest as she leaned into him.

  “Ready,” a deep voice called from the sitting room door. “But is some of your furniture broken?”

  “Southing paid us a visit last night,” Wes answered, his chest still tightening in anger.

  “You should have let me help you clear out the bugger years ago.”

  Wes shook his head. “I should have. It’s a point of personal growth that I’ve let people help me. What can I say? A man doesn’t like admitting his weaknesses.” Those words were his absolute truth. He wished he’d realized years ago that help was an important part of becoming a stronger individual.

  Gavin’s eyes widened. “Well I’ll be damned.” Then he looked at Penny. “Excuse me, my lady.”

  “Lord DeWolfe, may I introduce my wife, Lady Preston.” They stepped down the final step and Gavin bowed.

  “My lady.” He winked. “I can’t tell you how pleased I am to meet you.”

  Penny squeezed his hand. “And I you.”

  Mrs. Welsh appeared with a tray full of tea and cakes. “Good morning, my lord and lady. Should I put this in the dining room, the sitting room, or the library?”

  “The sitting room, please.” Penny answered. “Lord DeWolfe, tell me, how badly is my furniture broken?”

  “Only the arm of the settee, my lady,” he said as he turned back to the room. “I might not have noticed if I hadn’t sat on the piece.”