The Wicked Wallflowers

by Tammy Andresen

  Wes wanted to answer. He searched his mind for the words that would express his swirling thoughts. As far as he was concerned, they might never part. He hadn’t said they had to separate after a certain time, just that she wasn’t bound to live out her life with him if she didn’t want to. He’d only been trying to convince her that marrying him wouldn’t be a lifelong mistake.

  And he needed to tell her how much he appreciated her support and understanding. When he was with her, he was his best self. There was so much less pressure to be the earl everyone expected. He reached for her hand. “Penny…”

  “There it is.” She pointed. “The village.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “Shall we go to the blacksmith first? It’s just on the edge of the town.”

  “Excellent,” he answered. There would be time later to tell her how he felt.

  * * *

  Penny walked down Main Street enjoying the bit of spring sun as she laced her hand through Wes’s arm.

  They’d been to the blacksmith, the baker, and the butcher. Now they were off to the general store, which also acted as a grain and feed store as well as the post office for the village. Mr. Wright had run the store since she was a child and she greatly looked forward to seeing the man again.

  The interior of the store was dark and cool as she stepped inside. Mr. Wright stood behind the counter, a monocle over one eye as he scribbled his own notes.

  “Mr. Wright?” she asked, giving a smile.

  He looked up, his brow furrowing for a moment. “Miss Penny, is that you?”

  “It’s me,” she said, noting a few other customers milling about. In particular, a woman in an emerald green dress eyed fabrics with a skeptical frown. Penny bit back a smile. This was not the shop for high fashion. “I’d like to introduce you to my husband, Lord Preston.”

  Mr. Wright smiled a wide-open grin as he took the monocle off his eyes. “What a pleasure it is—” But he was cut off as the woman in green turned to them.

  “Lord Preston. Well I’ll be. It is you.” She turned to them and Penny’s stomach sank to her knees. Blonde hair, twisted into a complicated coif, was set off by her matching emerald bonnet and glittering green eyes that held a catlike tilt. The woman was breathtaking.

  “Lady Kittredge. Pleasure.” Wes straightened as he spoke, his voice low and even. Penny looked to her husband. How had he known this woman?

  Lady Kittredge’s eyes ran up and down his length, her mouth quirking into a seductive smile. “I declare, I forgot how…large you were.”

  It was Penny’s turn to straighten. Those words were far too intimate for her liking, and irritation and a prickle of jealousy slithered down her spine.

  Wes drew in a breath. “May I introduce my wife, Lady Preston.”

  The other woman’s eyes flitted to her briefly. There was a flicker of a challenge before she covered her mouth with her hand, letting out a dismissive sniff. Then her gaze settled back on Wes. “Pleasure,” she murmured. “Lord Preston, we must catch up. Perhaps we could all have dinner sometime.”

  “Perhaps,” he answered. “If you’ll excuse us, Lady Kittredge, we’ve a long list to get through before dinner time.”

  “Of course.” She curtseyed. “Do tell me where you live so that I might pay a visit.”

  He tensed under Penny’s arm, not answering the question. Why was he acting so strangely? If he’d been friendly, she would have thought this woman just an acquaintance but his behavior and hers told Penny there was much more between them. “We live east of the village, Grandview Estate.”

  “East? The grand view can’t be of the ocean then, I suppose.” She gave a closed-lip smile at her own joke. “Until we meet again.” And then Lady Kittredge sauntered past them, her hips swinging as she went.

  Penny picked a spot on the wall, determined not to stare. The last thing that woman needed was attention.

  “Apologies for the interruption,” Wes rumbled. “Mr. Wright it’s a pleasure.”

  “Same.” Mr. Wright turned away. “I wondered who Lord Preston might be.”

  “How did you know about him at all?” Penny asked, her forehead creasing as she stepped toward the desk.

  “Mail, of course.” Mr. Wright handed a small stack of letters toward Wes.

  Wes took them, placing them in his coat pocket. “Thank you, kindly.” Then he placed his hand at her back. Penny relaxed at the touch. “Penny and I have some questions we hoped you could answer.”

  Penny nodded but truly, the questions that now plagued her thoughts only one man could answer…her husband.

  Chapter Twelve

  Penny had been quiet since their trip to the village. He knew why. His own gut squeezed with guilt. Catherine Kittredge. The woman was a devil with blonde hair. She reminded him of everything he despised about his life in London.

  He ran a hand through his hair. Simpering, selfish, indulgent and mean spirited, they’d had a brief affair in his earlier days in London and her earlier days as a baroness. He wondered if her husband had ever caught her in any of her extramarital activities. As far as he knew, there had been a great deal of them.

  “That woman,” Penny finally said as their wagon rumbled home. “How did you know her?”

  He swallowed. “Her husband and I belonged to the same club.” The truth shamed him to no end.

  “Oh.” She perked up a bit, her back straightening. “You were acquainted with her husband. Do they summer in Kent? Is that why she was here?”

  “I would imagine so,” he answered. He’d just as soon forget that Catherine ever existed. “I honestly can’t remember.”

  She nodded, and her face relaxed. “It’s been some time, then, since you’ve been acquainted.”

  He squinted one eye. Strictly speaking, he was barely acquainted with the aging baron at all. He’d done his best to avoid the man during his time in London. He’d been having an affair with his wife, after all. Shame made his neck stiff and twisted his head attempting to relax the muscles. “Six or seven years. Maybe more. Those days tend to blend together.”

  She threaded her hand through his elbow. Whatever he’d said, he’d provided comfort with his words, because she scooted closer on the bench. For a brief moment, he wondered if he should tell her more. But he decided against sharing his lurid past. She needn’t know the gory details, it was bad enough he was tortured by the memories. “Mrs. Welsh should be pleased with the cuts of meat I’m bringing her. Do you fancy lamb for dinner?”

  “Sound perfect,” he answered. Any conversation that did not involve his past or Catherine Kitteridge sounded delightful to him.

  “Now that you’ve fixed the plow, will you begin turning over the soil?” She reached into her pocket, pulling out her notebook. “Mr. Wright gave me some excellent figures on what we might make if we sell the grain. We’ll have to calculate the number of acres and the prospective crop but—”

  “Penny,” he interrupted, easing up on the reins so that the horses slowed down.

  She looked up at him, her hazel eyes searching his as she stiffened against him. “Yes? Is everything all right?”

  He leaned down and softly kissed her lips. “Everything is wonderful. Thank you for agreeing to be my wife.”

  She smiled up at him, her lips soft, her eyes slightly crinkled at the corners. “The pleasure is mine.”

  He swallowed. “Pray you always feel that way.”

  * * *

  Penny stared at her husband wondering what that meant. He was afraid of failing, that much she was certain of. But the way he’d worked the past week? If he continued like that, they’d be profitable for certain. “I’m sure I will,” she said.

  He stared straight ahead, his face a mask.

  She nibbled at her lip. Had she said something that had upset him? She’d a lot of questions about Lady Kitteridge but that woman had made Penny feel invisible. The way she’d unabashedly stared at Wes with a smirk on her face, clearing dismissing Penny as though she weren’t even there. Penny’s blood boiled j
ust thinking about the meeting. Any wife would be insecure with a woman like that around.

  Penny thought about asking more, but she was fairly certain she’d pushed enough. With any luck, they’d never see Lady Kitteridge again.

  They passed the rest of the ride in silence and then set about unloading the wagon once they arrived at the house.

  “I’m going to test the plow on horses,” Wes said as he and Mr. Carrington unloaded the contraption from the bed.

  “All right,” she answered, filling her arms with several of their purchases. “I’ll bring the goods into Mrs. Welsh.”

  He nodded without looking up and she turned to the house, still unsettled from the day’s events. She dropped the packages in the kitchen, then headed up the back stairs and down the hall to the foyer. After stopping in front of the sitting room door, she noticed that Mrs. Welsh had opened the door again, likely to dust.

  The room taunted her. Had she done better than her mother? Reaching for the handle, she closed the door. Crossing the foyer, she entered the library and pulled out the chronicle. She could clean the upstairs bedrooms, but she’d complete the task tomorrow. Instead she flipped open the book and continued her parent’s story.

  An hour later, she dropped the pen back in the inkwell. She had to confess, writing their story made her feel better. Writing was the outlet she needed to release her pent-up feelings. Dusting the page, she allowed the ink to dry and then closed the book, tucking it on the shelf with the other volumes she’d managed to save from the house.

  Heavy steps on the stairs told her that Wes was back. A smile graced her lips. He’d had dinner with her every night since the first and tonight would be no exception. Somehow, that made her feel better about their wagon ride home from the village. The tension she’d been carrying eased and she headed for the foyer to greet him.

  “How did the horses do with the plow?” she asked as she met him in the hallway.

  His face was more relaxed, his cheeks and eyes softening, and he gave her a broad smile. “Very good. We begin plowing in the morning.”

  She reached for his hand. “Wonderful.”

  Stepping up next to her, he touched his pocket. “Join me in the library? I’ve got some correspondence to read and some of it may pertain to our finances.”

  “Of course,” she answered, lacing her fingers through his.

  The first few documents were account ledgers, which Penny began adding into the books. Wes sliced the last letter open just as Penny finished. Looking up at him, his brow creased as he read.

  “What’s the matter?” her own brow furrowing.

  “My accountant.” He ran his hands through his hair. “My former accountant, Southing, has evaded the Bow Street Runners. They’re searching for him but so far, no luck.”

  Penny rose and crossed to where her husband sat. Coming behind him, she placed her hands on his shoulders. “They’ll find him, surely.”

  “I hope so. I’ll never recover what was stolen, but I’d feel better knowing he was brought to justice.” He took her hand from his shoulder and kissed her palm, then pressed his cheek into the skin. “But if the Bow Street Runners can’t find him, he could be anywhere. If he’s at all prepared, he could have boarded a ship to sail to the Continent for all we know.”

  Penny leaned down, kissing the top of his head. “Or an island where the sun shines all day.”

  Wes reached around and grabbed her waist, pulling her down into his lap. “Maybe his ship will sink.”

  Touching her nose to his. “Think of all the innocent people. Perhaps you should wish he falls prey to scurvy instead.”

  He chuckled. “Fair enough.” He wrapped his arms around her back. “That man took advantage of me when I was most vulnerable.”

  Penny winced. “That is awful, Wes.” She placed a kiss gently on his lips. “We’re on the right path now. I can feel it.”

  He cupped her cheek as he gave her a long, slow kiss. “I think so, too. Penny.”

  The kiss deepened and lengthened until her breath came in short gasps. Footsteps on the stairs finally made her pull away.

  “My lady,” Mrs. Welsh called. “Would you like me to bring up the roast or simply keep it warm?”

  “We’ll continue this tonight,” Wes whispered.

  “Bring it up, Mrs. Welsh,” she called back, still in Wes’s lap. “His lordship has a busy day tomorrow, so we’ll be going to bed early.”

  “Very early.” He moved his lips over hers in a long lingering kiss. “But perhaps we’ll take a bath first.”

  A bath? That did sound interesting.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Wes looked at the dirt with a great deal of satisfaction. Neat rows covered the land for as far as he could see. He’d been able to hire a few boys to help and they were making great progress over the past few weeks. He went home dead tired each night but incredibly satisfied. He was a man of worth again. Perhaps not to the rest of the world but in his own eyes, he had purpose and structure. Value.

  And every night he had a beautiful woman who held him close, Penny’s warmth and affection wrapping around him like a blanket.

  He’d promised her she could leave if she’d wanted. But how could he ever let her go? He’d already forgotten what it was to be in a bed alone. What was more, he didn’t want to remember. She filled in all the places he lacked.

  He closed his eyes, blocking out the ray of sun that shone through the cloud, much like he tried to block out the truth. He was in love with her. The girl with the run-down property, accounting skills, and the hazel eyes that looked past all his flaws and took a chance on a man who’d been at the bottom. Even if she wasn’t stealing his heart, he owed her his undying loyalty. But now, he needed to show her that she belonged by his side forever.

  His knees threatened to give way. He sucked in his breath to settle his racing heart. Each night he held her, her body fitting against his. Each day he went out and worked his hardest. Was his dedication to creating a prosperous future for them enough? He wasn’t sure.

  Wiping his brow with a cloth, he unhitched the horses and led them back to the barn for a wipe down. Dinner would be served soon and, just like every other night, he wouldn’t miss the meal. Somehow, his attendance was important to both of them, their opportunity to discuss the day and life in general.

  Completing the work with the horses, he stripped off his own shirt and pumped the water, to wash the dirt and sweat of his torso. Penny knew of his habit and left a dry cloth and fresh shirt for him to wear when he was done.

  Water still glistened off his hair as he swiped it back with his fingers. The weather was warming and luck was on his side. As he straightened, he realized a carriage was sitting on the front drive. The ornately carved wood and sheer size told him that someone of wealth had come to call. Who?

  He searched his mind. Were Penny’s friends worried? But he knew Dryden’s carriage and that was not it. Who else could it be?

  Drying his hair, he combed it in place with his fingers then pulled on his fresh shirt. He was about to find out.

  * * *

  Penny stood back looking at the final bedroom. While it lacked a bed and a wardrobe, it was at least clean. She’d dusted every shelf, ran a wet rag over the walls and floor and taken out the rug to beat out the dirt. A small sigh escaped her lips. Furniture would make the house so much cozier, but at least it was clean.

  She tapped her finger on her chin. How was she going to acquire more pieces? Perhaps Chloe would have some advice. Turning, she started down the hall to return to the library. She owed her friend a letter anyhow.

  Just as she reached the top of the main stairs, the front bell rang. How curious.

  Mr. Carrington crossed the room and opened the door. “May I help you?”

  “Why yes,” a woman’s voice purred. “I’m here to see Lady Preston.”

  Her fingers tingled as she held her breath. It couldn’t be. But as the woman stepped inside, Penny couldn’t deny it. Lady Catherine K
itteridge stood in her foyer. Penny took a step back, hiding in the shadows. She needed to moment to compose herself.

  “Please step this way and I’ll tell Lady Preston you’re here.” Mr. Carrington opened the door to the front sitting room, leading Lady Kitteridge into the room.

  Penny closed her eyes. Catherine Kitteridge in the front room. If she could have chosen a worst nightmare, this might be just the scenario.

  Swallowing down her fear, she pushed off the wall just as Mr. Carrington started up the stairs. “Lady Preston, you’ve a visitor.”

  “Yes, thank you, Mr. Carrington.” She wiped her hand on her apron and then pulled it over her head before handing it to the butler. “Would you mind hanging this in the kitchen for me, then have Mrs. Welsh bring up tea.”

  “Of course, my lady,” Mr. Carrington answered as he turned toward the back stairs.

  Dragging in another breath, she started for the stairs. She stopped, dusted off her skirt, then shook out the folds. She was stalling, of course. Straightening her spine, she forced herself down the steps. She might as well get this visit over and done with.

  A single settee sat across from the fireplace. Mrs. Welsh had brought it down from the back bedroom. Catherine sat perched on the edge of the cushioned seat, looking about the room. As Penny entered, the other woman stood.

  “Good afternoon, Lady Kitteridge,” she said as she crossed the room. “What a pleasant surprise.”

  Standing, Catherine flashed her a bright smile. “How lovely to see you again. Don’t you look just darling.” The words were kind enough, but the woman’s eyes were hard and her smile showed too many teeth. She looked more like a predator than a friend.

  “And you as well,” Penny murmured, refusing to smooth her dusty skirts. She wouldn’t let this woman know how vulnerable she felt. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”