Lady at last

by Annabelle Anders

  Except upon reflection, she realized that had she and Danbury been discovered in their embrace, it would have solved her current problem. A hysterical burst of laughter nearly erupted at the thought. She would have been compromised by Hugh Danbury at the Helmers’ ball. She had a great appreciation for irony but really, that would have been unreal.

  She’d almost told him. She doubted she’d be presented with a more perfect opportunity.

  But they’d gotten distracted.

  Penelope sat beside her mother and fanned herself slowly. Her heart raced at the mere thought of how Danbury had held her. How his lips had felt on hers.

  She’d been with him that one time, yes, but this experience had been oh, so very different. He’d been tender, soothing; his touch had felt meaningful.

  She’d not wanted to stop him. She’d not wanted to stop herself, but years of attending ton functions had created a strong awareness of how society worked. There were eyes everywhere. And behind those curious eyes were suspicious minds and flapping mouths. Yes, Penelope understood what titillated the ton. She’d had no wish to become the on-dit of the evening. Even if Lady Helmer would have appreciated the notoriety.

  Her lips still tingled from his kiss though.

  “You look flushed, dear,” Penelope’s mother interrupted her thoughts. “It’s nice to see you with a bit of color. You’ve looked so wan lately—more so than usual.”

  Penelope waved her fan rapidly. “It’s warm in here.” A believable explanation for her flushed face, since the room was lit by literally hundreds of candles. She was amazed at how a mere quarter of an hour ago, she’d thought she might faint from dancing; she’d barely been able to keep herself standing upright. But now, after a few minutes in the company of Hugh Chesterton, she suddenly seemed filled with energy.

  Which was a good thing, for seeing Rome Spencer moving in her direction, she glanced at her card upon her wrist and was pleased that it was he who’d claimed the next set. And it was a waltz.

  What would it feel like to be held by the man she’d thought she’d loved for over a decade? Why did he wish to dance with her tonight, of all nights? In the past, he’d taken time to converse with her, much the same as he had with her father, and other gentlemen. Had she really made such a great change in her appearance? Or was it something else? Had her condition altered her demeanor? She’d lain with a man. And now she carried a child.

  She couldn’t help but remember Hugh’s question. I never did understand you. So set against marriage, determined to emasculate every man you’ve ever met. Don’t you ever wish you didn’t have to be so… different? He’d said the question wasn’t an insult. I was merely wondering if it was necessary to be so different in order to be you.

  She’d been so certain she had all the answers, not even three months before. So much had changed. She was experiencing a tumult that was causing her to question her very essence. Who was she now? Not a mother—yet. Heaven help her, she wasn’t anyone’s wife yet either. But she was no longer intent upon spinsterhood.

  She’d never been afraid to be alone before. But now… Being an outcast loomed ominously.

  “Miss Crone.” Rome Spencer bowed in front of her and then presented his arm. It was only a dance, and yet, Penelope felt herself blushing as she rose to take it. His smile had always been captivating. It was unnerving to have him turn his charm upon her.

  And he’d yet to have asked her about the price of corn. “My lord,” she murmured, dipping into a gentle curtsey.

  He led her to the center of the floor and turned her to face him. As the musicians raised their instruments, Viscount Darlington placed one hand on her waist and took hold of hers with the other. She placed her palm on his shoulder and waited for the fluttering to commence.

  There was pleasure but no butterflies. No tingling awareness…

  He expertly steered her around the room with long graceful steps. It was almost magical. It should have been magical.

  Last fall, at his sister’s wedding ball, Penelope had watched him as he’d danced with Lady Eliza Frost. Rumor had been that there was an understanding between the two families. They were to have become engaged upon the holidays.

  “Are you affianced?” she asked for no other reason than curiosity.

  “I am not.” He gazed at her with some intensity. Was that a meaningful look in his eyes? Surely, she’d imagined that. “Are you?”

  She raised her brows. “Is there any reason you would think that I might be?”

  “You are different,” he responded, and then added. “I simply wondered…”

  This was not happening. Unsure of how to respond, Penelope laughed nervously. The indifference with which he’d always treated her before was absent tonight.

  “How are your northern estates faring? Has the tenant unrest continued?” They’d discussed these issues last summer.

  Rome twirled her expertly. She was a little breathless when his hand settled on her waist once again.

  “The estates are the same.” His mouth pinched as he spoke but then he seemed to shrug off any tension. “I understand you assisted Danbury with Augusta Heights last month. Sounds like you’ve achieved quite a coup in landing him such a sought-after steward.” Another twirl. When he took her in his arms this time, he was smiling again.

  “Merely good business,” she said noncommittally.

  “You never answered my question.” He leaned in and spoke close to her ear. Rome Spencer’s scent was masculine and clean. She found herself comparing it to Hugh’s, which was similar, yet different. Danbury’s was muskier, darker. The thought of it caused her to shiver. Rome looked satisfied at her reaction.

  How should she answer his question? My lord, I’m increasing and hoping to bring Danbury up to scratch as soon as possible. And no, he knows nothing of the entire situation. In fact, he does not even remember bedding me.

  “I remain, of course, unattached,” she said instead. It was the answer he would expect, was it not? It was the only answer she’d ever expected to give to such a question.

  “Ah, my good fortune then.”

  How should she deal with this sudden interest from Rome? What if Hugh refused to marry her? Would it be prudent to encourage Viscount Darlington in case Hugh didn’t come up to scratch?

  No, no, no! She could not do that to Rome. She would not do that to any man! What she’d done to Hugh was bad enough! Regardless of what happened, she must, above all, hold onto her self-respect. If everyone in the world turned against her, at the very least, she needed to like herself.

  She would most certainly not attempt to pass another man’s child off as Rome Spencer’s heir. Rome was due to inherit an earldom. In addition to that, he was a good and decent person. She would not do such a thing to him.

  Even if she wanted to, she was far too advanced for it to be believable.

  She was no longer even a maiden! Rome Spencer, or any gentleman for that matter, might be disappointed, or perhaps even disgusted, to discover they’d married a woman who was not chaste.

  It would be Danbury or no one.

  “What of Lady Eliza?” Perhaps she could turn Rome’s thoughts in another direction.

  He frowned. “Lady Eliza,” he said through pinched lips, “is now Mrs. Blackwell.”

  Penelope raised her brows. A woman who would give up Rome Spencer, a man due to inherit a prominent title and vast wealth, to become a mere Missus, must have been very much in love, indeed.

  “The lady and her husband eloped just before the new year.” Rome had been considered one of London’s most eligible bachelors for years. Surely, he had not expected that when he did finally choose a woman to offer for, she would prefer another instead.

  “Were you betrothed?” She knew it would be inappropriate for him to discuss this with her, especially here, surrounded by other dancers, in the middle of the ballroom, but really, they’d known each other for simply ages.

  Rome took in a deep breath and then let out a long sigh. “Not publ
icly. No announcement was made, but yes. I asked, and the lady accepted.” He looked pained. “I’ll expect your confidence on this matter, of course. The lady’s reputation is at stake, that and her family’s.”

  “Of course,” she answered automatically. Penelope did not gossip.

  So, while she’d been pining away for him in January and February, he’d been recovering from a broken engagement. Poor thing.

  Rome would not want her sympathy.

  No, apparently, he wanted something else from her.

  “Lady Eliza is very young. I hope she knew what she was doing.”

  He grimaced. “I believe she is happy.” A sadness entered his eyes that she’d never seen there before. Suddenly, the affection one might feel for a brother rose up inside of her. Not jealousy.

  She did not wish to extend platitudes. “You will be happy again,” she said sincerely and looked into his eyes.

  Rome tilted his head back and gathered his pride once again. She was certain he’d revealed far more to her than he’d intended. The rest of the dance was completed without any further conversation. He returned her to her mother’s side and bowed formally.

  As the evening progressed, Penelope realized she was both looking forward to and dreading the supper dance. He’d also signed for the last waltz. She hoped she could last that long.

  What would she say to him? At least the supper dance was not another waltz. She’d not be forced into such intimate proximity so soon after their… whatever it was.

  What had it meant? Had he felt something for her? Gentlemen didn’t really go about kissing ladies of the ton for no reason, did they? For a girl of such an advanced age, she really did lack understanding of the nuances of courting. Hellfire, she might as well be one of the tender debutantes for all she knew on the subject.

  But tonight was the first time she’d ever found herself the object of such masculine attention. And not from only elderly gentlemen, but younger ones too. And all the while, she danced.

  She danced with gentlemen she’d known most of her life but also several she’d just met tonight. She’d never remember all of their names. She barely remembered their faces.

  She hoped she wouldn’t run into any of them again soon. Social niceties had never been a strong suit for her.

  And then it was time for the supper dance.

  Her mother was the first to see him approach. “My lord, I certainly am going to miss your mother this season. I was tempted to forego it myself when I read the letter she sent to me stating that she would be staying at Land’s End.”

  Penelope was able to study him, unfettered, as he directed all of his charm toward her mother.

  “She caught a bit of a fever earlier this spring. Although it isn’t anything serious, she said she’d rather not travel. When I visited a few months ago, her cough persisted. She assured me it was nothing serious, but one always worries when it’s one’s only parent.”

  Penelope frowned. Cortland had said Lady Danbury was in good health. She’d always considered the viscountess one of the more indomitable dragons of the ton. But of course, her son would not be in London for the season if his mother was in decline.

  “Yes,” Penelope’s own mother broke into her thoughts. “She mentioned that in her letter, although it was a bit difficult to decipher. I’ve been corresponding with your mother for nearly fifty years, and I still require a magnifying glass to unravel what she’s written.” Winking up at the viscount, she added, “It’s almost as though I’m a spy, interpreting a secret code.”

  Hugh laughed at her mother’s outrageous comment and then turned his gaze upon Penelope. The force of his looks and charm nearly stopped her heart. When he smiled, he had these tiny little wrinkles around his eyes. He pushed back the lock of hair that never failed to fall forward and then bowed toward her.

  “My dance, I believe.” The piece of hair fell forward again. She’d always known he was handsome, but she’d never been so affected by his presence.

  Physical attraction was a mysterious matter, indeed!

  She rose and took the arm he held out to her. “You are correct, my lord.” Both her manner and her words sounded incredibly docile in her own ears.

  When they were several feet away from her mother, Hugh leaned down and murmured, “Shall we forego the dance and take a turn about the garden instead?”

  Oh, dear.

  Did he intend to pick up where they’d left off earlier? If she said yes, would that make her something of a brazen hussy? And then, for the millionth time that night, the irony of her own thoughts nearly gave rise to hysterical laughter. For of course she was a brazen hussy!

  “I believe we have some unfinished business,” he added.

  Oh dear.

  They could find some tucked away bench somewhere, away from the other guests. He’d planted a craving in her that she’d never expected.

  Sexual desire!

  Oh, dear.

  She glanced over at him suspiciously. Was he reading her mind?

  “You never revealed your secret to me. The reason you went gallivanting around England earlier this spring and the cause of your fainting spells.” He looked just a little disapproving.

  She needed to tell him everything tonight. She doubted she’d get a better opportunity. If she did not take him up on it, Rose would harangue her to no end.

  Steering her expertly out through the same terrace doors she’d used before, Hugh took matters into his own hands.

  The breeze was cooler now than it had been before. Spring had not arrived completely. Most of the flowers were reaching for the sky but few of them had opened yet.

  A tremor ran through her. Hugh pulled her closer and they stepped off the formal terrace onto a flagstone path.

  “Confession time, Miss Crone,” he said softly as they strolled. She was no longer clinging to his arm. For it had somehow found its way around her shoulders and the entire left side of her body was pressed up against his.

  He was warm and solid and, in that moment, felt like a safe haven.

  “Well…” she began.

  They took several more steps.

  “Well?” he prompted.

  How should she do this? She’d worked this conversation out in her mind a thousand times but never really come up with any satisfactory script for herself.

  “You know that I have never been one to hide my opinion of the institution of marriage?” She glanced up at him. His eyes sparkled, giving her cause to believe he was laughing inside. Was he laughing at her? She was in no mood to be laughed at. “Please don’t find jest in this.”

  Her words brought about a more serious demeanor. “Of course not.”

  She picked her way over a few of the large flat stones before continuing. “Well, I had thought that I could only marry if I were lucky enough to find a person who could be the mate to my soul and vice-versa. I had thought there was one person. I had thought that I could only marry this one person, but he was never, well, he proved to be… not.”

  “You are speaking of Darlington, I take it. Ravensdale’s heir.”

  Her head jerked up at his words. How did he know? Oh, this was mortifying.

  “Pen, anyone who has ever known you has known you were infatuated with the Viscount.”

  “No! Please! Oh, this is humiliating!” She’d thought she’d been so clever. She’d thought she’d hidden her emotions so well. She’d never told a soul—even Abigail, her cousin and dearest friend.

  Of course, she had discussed him with Rose. But Rose. Well. Rose knew everything.

  Penelope attempted to pull herself away from Hugh, but his grip merely tightened.

  Throughout the evening, she’d begun to feel attractive, feminine, sought after even. No wonder Rome had flirted with her. He’d wanted to soothe his wounds and figured good old Penelope was always there.

  “Tell me he was not aware, Hugh, please?”

  Hugh grimaced and shifted his gaze away from her.

  “Oh, no!” She could
not face him ever again. Thank heavens she’d not flirted back with him this evening! She turned her head and banged it against Hugh’s shoulder.

  They had stopped walking. Hugh turned and wrapped both arms around her waist.

  “But I watched you with him tonight.” He’d watched her? “You were not as entranced with him as before.”

  “Of course, I’m not, you fool!” The words escaped her before she could consider them more carefully.

  A huge grin spread across his face. “No, you are not,” he said in a somewhat satisfied tone. “But why would I be a fool for not knowing this?” The moonlight caught the white gleam of his teeth as he continued smiling down at her.

  Why would he be a fool? Perhaps because she’d already given him her virginity and was carrying his child, that was why! Except that she hadn’t yet revealed this rather pertinent information to him.

  And then his hand was on her chin and his face was moving closer to hers. “Perhaps because of this?”

  His lips did not need to coax hers for long before she opened her mouth to him.

  He tilted his head and explored one corner of her mouth. “Or this?”

  She was now pressed up fully against his chest and thighs… and other parts.

  She let out a soft sigh when his lips moved along her chin and onto her throat. “Um.” She sought some words to answer him, but she’d seemingly lost the ability to speak English.

  He just went right on kissing her. On her neck.

  Behind her ear.

  He pushed down the sleeve of her dress and kissed her there.

  On her shoulder.

  “Um,” she said again. What had been the question?

  His hand had slid up her waist and located the ridge along the edge of her stays. Just above there, his thumb grazed the sensitive skin of her breast. A low growl emitted from his throat.

  “Penelope.” He sounded as breathless as she was.

  He’d pushed her dress down farther, and his mouth covered her where her dress had done so only moments before.

  When he attempted to claim the tip with his mouth…

  “Ouch!” She pulled back. Recently her breasts had been so tender that they pained her. His head jerked up, giving her the very brief respite she needed to draw on common sense. She hurriedly tugged the sleeves back over her shoulders, but she did so carefully. That had really hurt!