Lady at last

by Annabelle Anders

  By the end of their journey, Penelope and Rose would be on a first name basis with nearly every innkeeper and his wife in England. Penelope’s condition had forced them to stop that many times.

  After Penelope had rested for two whole days, the midwife finally gave them her blessing to continue on their journey. The woman was not enthusiastic about it though. And she was very adamant, however, that should Penelope experience any unusual pains or stretching, or if she was unable to keep food down for more than a day, she must stop and rest again.

  Rose promised her mistress would follow those instructions.

  And so, the longest journey ever made commenced once again.

  At first, Penelope thought nothing of it. Yes, she was a bit queasy and dizzy, but she’d felt that way for weeks now. Surely, she was not so delicately formed that she could not travel, in a plush and well-sprung carriage, mind you, for a week or so. But it was the pains, which at first she didn’t even notice, that changed her outlook.

  She was carrying two, possibly more, tiny little squalling infants inside of her, and they depended upon her to take good care of them. What good would there be in finding Hugh if she killed her babies in the process? The thought was a horrifying one. Penelope would rather live at the ends of the earth, alone, away from all society, with her healthy and well-formed children than harm a hair on their unborn little heads.

  They traveled one or two hours in the morning, stopped for nuncheon and a nap, or even a brief nature walk, and then traveled for two or three hours in the afternoon. If Penelope had any doubts about her and the babies’ health, she and her entourage skipped traveling in the afternoon and she laid about the closest inn, instead.

  And she found herself knitting.

  She’d never really been all that enthusiastic of a knitter, but with the image of her babies becoming more real every day, she suddenly found herself with a keen desire to create blankets, booties, and sweaters of the most miniature sizes imaginable.

  And she met some interesting people as she traveled. She could not use her real name, of course, as it seemed her condition, for some reason she could only guess about, was apparent to many of the women she met up with. The innkeepers took particular care to make sure she was always given a comfortable and peaceful chamber and the maids doted on her anxiously.

  Penelope assumed Rose was at the root of the extra consideration she received. She’d known Rose had been frightened for her when they’d had to stop that first time. For all of Rose’s candid lack of submissiveness and bluster, Penelope knew that her childhood friend was caring and sensitive at heart. She was frightened for Penelope’s condition.

  And so, they stopped.

  And stopped.

  And stopped.

  But nobody complained. Not Coachman John, not Peter, nor Mokey, and most definitely not Rose.

  For they all seemed to realize that there was greater importance to this journey than just a simple holiday. It was as though Penelope’s personal crusade to locate Hugh Chesterton had become all of theirs, as well.

  She supposed they all knew the truth.

  Well, not the entire truth, but the truth of her condition. And that, surprisingly, was oddly comforting.

  It was as though her babies already had protectors.

  The journey took nearly twice the time it had when she’d travelled with her mother. It took twenty-four days, to be precise.

  By the time they neared Danbury’s estate at the very farthest southwestern part of England, Penelope was feeling rather as though control of matters was slipping away from her.

  If Hugh was not here, if he’d bolted again for some other nether regions of this godforsaken kingdom, she would merely have to rent a cottage somewhere and figure out how to make a new life for herself.

  She was exhausted. She didn’t have the energy to go gallivanting any longer. And she’d never felt a greater relief than when, as the carriage drew to a halt outside of the majestic home, Hugh himself appeared at the top of the steps.

  He looked grim, indeed.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Hugh had first thought the approaching carriage was another of his mother’s sisters arriving to pay their respects. There had been four others in the two weeks before. But even from a great distance, he’d known. He’d seen that carriage before. It was not one of his aunts this time.

  He could hardly believe that Penelope had the temerity to come all this way, uninvited, in what he was certain was an attempt to solidify their engagement.

  Guilt warred with the outrage inside of him. He had, as of yet, not decided whether he was going to honor his proposal. For it had been given under false pretenses.

  He’d proposed under the assumption that she had feelings for him. He’d proposed under the assumption that she would come to him not only chaste but free of any encumbrances that would prevent him from making a family with her—making a family that would be his, that was.

  He was surprised, that in addition to feeling angry and betrayed, he was sad.

  Sad to realize that what he had hoped was going to be a satisfying union might not be a union at all.

  He’d promised to give her his name. With his name came protection. Was it even an option for him to cry off? Certainly, nobody else knew of their engagement, and even if they did, there was not a single person who would hold him to it. Her lack of virtue alone was just cause. Hell, he’d be considered a fool to follow through with it.

  And then for some reason, his mother came to mind.

  She would have been delighted at the prospect of a grandchild so soon. Only if it were his child, though. Surely, she would not have welcomed another man’s bastard as his heir.

  And suddenly Penelope was here, climbing out of the carriage, a footman assisting her.

  She looked so drawn and tired that he very nearly let go of his anger for a moment.

  He realized that she was staring at the house, at the black crepe on the door and the drawn curtains. Hugh wore the requisite black armband over his coat.

  “Oh, Hugh, I’m so sorry!” She stepped toward him with her hands outstretched to take his, but he did not remove his own from behind his back. Rather awkwardly, she dropped her own and stood before him. Although her hair was confined to its normal harsh knot in the back, a few soft bangs had escaped to soften her look. The sun brought out golden strands he’d not noticed before. And the blue specks in her eyes burned even brighter as they seemed to plead with him for something.

  “I know that I have not been invited,” she stated baldly and then looked around at her anxiously hovering servants and the butler, who now stood holding the door wide for their entry. “Please, Hugh, could we have a word in private?”

  Ah, so she was looking for reassurances from him—reassurances he was not, as of yet, certain he would give.

  “I have an appointment, I’m afraid, and cannot make myself available until later this evening.” He glanced behind him at his butler and nodded slightly. “I will have rooms readied for you and your maid. You are welcome to stay and rest from your journey.” And without waiting for her response, Hugh marched down the steps and around to the stables.

  He did not have an appointment, but he was going to make her wait. Damn that woman! He wished he’d never met her!

  When he returned to the house, he learned that the lady and her maid were indeed, locked up in their room and resting. They’d been served biscuits and sandwiches at tea time.

  “Please tell Miss Crone that I will meet with her promptly in the drawing room.”

  “Yes, my lord.” The housemaid curtsied before disappearing.

  He did not have long to wait before Penelope appeared. And if he was not mistaken, she did seem to have thickened slightly about the waist. She entered the room tentatively but did not curtsey.

  He did not stand.

  He did, however, gesture to the chair across from his own. “By all means.” He knew his voice was unwelcoming. Seeing her made him angry all over agai
n. It bothered him even more that whereas his head quite clearly hated her for what she was doing, his body was still attuned to her. And his heart jumped, just a little, to be in her presence once again.

  What fools men were.

  She sat down carefully, a little awkwardly even, and then looked up at him.

  “I am so sorry, Hugh, for the loss of your mother. I know how much you cherished her. I’ve always admired her. She was one of the most likeable ladies of the ton.”

  Hugh nodded, appreciative of the sentiments. If only he were hearing them under different circumstances. What if he had not been told of her condition? What if Periwinkle had lied and theirs was a simple engagement, after all.

  He would have been pleased to see her. He would have chastised her for coming without her mother, but he would have taken her into his arms. He would have wanted to hold her and receive comfort from doing so.

  He would have also scolded her for traveling so far, with only a few outriders for protection. Highwaymen were a very real threat, especially to single coaches.

  She’d been lucky, indeed, to travel so very far without any such mishap.

  And for that reason, he decided to pretend not to know. He would wait and see how far she was willing to deceive him.

  He walked around his desk and sat down on the front of it, directly facing her, his feet practically touching hers. “I thank you.” And then she rose, suddenly, practically knocking him backward in the process.

  He reached out and grasped her elbows in order to stabilize them both. She did not release his arms where she’d grabbed as well. “I have so much to discuss with you. I wanted to speak with you about something when you proposed but I could not. And then you were gone.” She looked up into his eyes and smiled in an attempt at self-mockery. “And…” She tilted her head to the side. “I missed you.”

  Forgetting his anger for the moment, he leaned his head down and found her lips. He’d missed her, too. God help him, but he had.

  He released her elbows, wrapping his arms around her, and pulled her closer. He would enjoy this for just a moment. Her lips moved tentatively under his, opening eagerly when his tongue sought entry.

  She tasted of lemons and pastries. She felt precious and soft.

  And then he felt it.

  A part of her that was not soft. A part that was not like anything he’d ever felt before.

  He broke the kiss as if he’d been burned.

  Turning from her he walked over toward the ceiling-high bookshelves and placed his hands along the shelf above his head. Closing his eyes, he leaned his forehead into the books lined up in front of him.

  “That’s what I needed to speak with you about, Hugh.”

  She knew the second his body made contact with it, with them, that he’d realized her condition. She watched as he turned away from her, rigid with anger? Looking defeated? Hating her?

  Most likely, all of the above.

  Touching her belly, she massaged it softly. She’d come to love soothing the little bulge. She’d been feeling them now for two days—at least she presumed she was—tiny butterflies, fluttering their wings inside of her womb.

  Suddenly, the words which had been so difficult to utter before came rushing up inside of her. “I know you’ll think me crazy, insane even! What I’ve done was unconscionable. But I cannot undo things.”

  He didn’t move or speak.

  “And I won’t blame you for hating me for it.” Her voice cracked a little as she swallowed a sob. She was determined to get through this without breaking down into tears. He deserved that much. “It’s just that you were the only one there. I wasn’t thinking straight, and I was so overwhelmed by the birth of the little marquess.”

  Hugh turned around slowly and regarded her through narrowed eyes. “What are you talking about? Good God! Not Cortland!”

  She was confused for a moment. “Oh, no! No! What must you think of me? Of course, I would never! He is my very dear friend’s husband!”

  “A servant then? Penelope? Was it a nearby tenant? Where is this man and why will he not take care of his responsibility? My best guess at this question is that he is already married. For if there were such a man within the ton who was unmarried, who put you in this condition and has refused to do what’s right, I would have held the shotgun to his head for you myself, Penelope. I would have assisted you, as your friend. But why did you have to take this depraved course?”

  Oh, she had not yet told him the very worst part. “Hugh, will you please sit down? Will you give me a chance to explain?” When he met her eyes, she twisted her mouth ruefully. “It’s all rather embarrassing, really.”

  He contemplated her for just a moment before acquiescing to her request. He returned to the chair behind his desk and waited.

  Penelope exhaled. She could do this. She must do this.

  “I took advantage of you at Summer’s Park… when you were… inebriated.”

  Hugh raised his brows. “You?” he said somewhat sarcastically, “took advantage of me?”

  She rushed onward. “I had just watched the duchess give birth, you see? To this new life. And I was so overwrought. I’d finally come to terms with the fact that Viscount Darlington, Rome, was never going to reciprocate my feelings. I’d finally decided in my heart that I would never marry, never be a mother, never have a child. And at the time, I was at peace with my decision. But then…”

  “But then, what? Penelope? Don’t stop there.”

  “I held little Edward. And when the nurse took him away from me, to clean him up so that Lilly might feed him, I had the emptiest feeling right here.” She pressed her fist up to where her heart was. “I became terrified that it would never happen to me and that I had waited too long.”

  “So, you changed your mind and what?”

  She looked down at the floor, ashamed of what came next. More ashamed in this moment than she’d ever been in her entire life.

  “I found you. In the library. And you were well into your cups.”

  He tilted his chin back and stared at her warily. “You do not expect me to believe that I was so overcome with drink that I bedded you? That I took your maidenhead in my dearest friend’s home? You expect me to believe that I did all of this with no memory of it whatsoever?”

  She shrugged. What else could she do? Fall on her face and beg him to believe her? “It’s the truth, Hugh.”

  And then he laughed. Not a pleasant laugh but a derisive, disgusted, unbelieving laugh. “Oh, that’s good, Pen. You certainly have put your imagination to work coming up with that fairytale.”

  She shook her head. “I know it sounds implausible, impossible even! But imagine my dismay when you lost consciousness at the… Well, when it was over. And then you left the next day!”

  “You forget, Penelope, that moments ago I felt the size of your belly. You, my dear, did not come to be with child from me in February. Another man, in December perhaps, even possibly in November? You must be getting very concerned indeed. You cannot have a very long time to wait before the baby comes.”

  “There is more than one.”

  He truly scowled at these words. “Are you so wanton, Penelope? That there is more than one man who could possibly be the father? I’d never have guessed in a million years.”

  “No, Hugh! Listen to me!”

  “I’m afraid that I have been. God, Penelope, why did you have to bring me into all of this?”

  “More than one baby! Hugh! And only one man! Only one time. Ever!”

  He was scaring her. She was certain he had to have remembered something? Surely? Oh, God. If he didn’t remember, would he ever believe her?

  Hugh glanced up sharply at the fervor of her statement.

  “I swear to you! I would not lie about this. You must believe me!”

  He simply stared at her, hoping he could read her mind perhaps? She wished he could so that he would know that she wasn’t lying to him.

  “You say you rutted with me at Summer’s Park
, got with child—twins, you say? And now wish for me to marry you? Need for me to marry you?”

  Well, that was, baldly put, the truth of it. It sounded so very sordid. “I do,” she answered solemnly.

  A coldness came over him. A coldness like she had never experienced from him before.

  He did not believe her.

  “Very well.” Glancing at her stomach, he spoke in flat tones. “In light of the dire consequence of waiting any longer, and in light of the fact that I did offer for you, I’ll marry you, Penelope. I will obtain a special license, and we’ll do so within the week.” And then he pulled something out of his desk and went to work on it.

  She remembered the last time he’d worked on some business in her presence, at Augusta Heights, when they’d worked together. After a moment, he looked up at her again. “Was there anything else you wished to discuss?”

  Ah, so, he was tired of looking at her. “Er, no, I suppose not.” She rose from her seat slowly. Now would be a very bad time to exhibit any weakness caused by her condition. She did not want to be such a burden for him. She’d never intended… She’d never thought…

  “I know you must hate me right now, but thank you, Hugh. Thank you for being the man I knew you would be.”

  “My lord,” he said.

  She tilted her head. “My lord?”

  “I’d prefer we dispense with the intimacies of an engaged couple. I have no affection for you and do not wish for any from you. So, if you will, please address me formally.”

  “Very well.” Her own pride warred with her guilt. “Thank you, my lord.” She hoped in time he could come to like her again. One day perhaps. Most likely very far into the future. Perhaps when they were presented with grandchildren, or great-grandchildren.

  She found Rose and informed her that the deed was done. Hugh knew everything and had said he would still marry her.

  It was not anything to celebrate but at least her babies were going to have a father. And they were safe now. She had Rose unpack her trunks so that they could settle in. Most likely, she would not leave here for a very long time. Hugh would probably be happy to consign her to the country for the rest of their lives and go about his life as though he had no wife.