Lady at last

by Annabelle Anders

  Both of them sighed in relief to see that the bleeding had most likely stopped, but Penelope agreed that she probably ought to do as Rose suggested. “Do you think you could have her come without making a fuss over it? I could tell Hugh, if he asks, that is, that it is… precautionary.”

  “Do you think he’s going to want to do it again? Tonight?” Rose wrinkled up her nose in disgust. This was a pertinent question, however. She did not think she ought to participate in any more sexual activity, for now anyhow, possibly not until after her fishes were born.

  Which would not bode well for a happy marriage. She had heard about men and their needs. And, after partaking of a night of satisfaction, herself, she felt a little regretful to put it off for so long.

  She’d also liked the intimacy. She’d liked it when he let her simply hold him. It had comforted her to comfort him.

  Their night together had been oddly enlightening. She’d read of the scientific theory that men and women were complementary to each other, rather than equal, and always considered it to be erroneous. She did think that perhaps men and women ought to be considered equal to each other because they could be complementary to each other. It was a thought she stored at the back of her brain for later consideration.

  In the present moment, she had more personal concerns to contemplate.

  If Penelope were to withhold herself from him, might Hugh seek gratification outside of their marriage? She’d not even considered this aspect until now. She’d been so very concerned with the fact that he hated her, it had been the least of her worries.

  Except that now it worried her.

  “Do you, Pen?” Rose persisted.

  “I don’t know,” Penelope answered honestly. Perhaps he still felt guilty, as she had, for their uncivilized bout of lovemaking—if one could even call it that. Perhaps he would leave her alone for a few nights, thinking a new bride needed a break, so to speak. “But I don’t think that I should.” And then, making a decision, she turned to Rose. “Please, will you send for the midwife? There are a few things I think I ought to have a better understanding of with all of this marriage business.”

  “You and me both,” Rose said. “I’ll send for her immediately.”

  Mrs. Mary Huber was a strong-looking woman. She was not timid or foolishly feminine in any way, and yet she was gentle when she examined Penelope and seemed to not judge anything about Penelope’s recent marriage and premature condition.

  Penelope liked her and felt confident speaking with her regarding such personal matters.

  “It ought not have caused you to bleed, but I don’t see anything of concern at the moment. You are certain you did not experience any stretching pains, or pains in your back?”

  “I did not,” Penelope answered after confirming her answer in her own mind. “But there was enough blood to frighten me—some of it thick-like.”

  The woman’s hands were feeling around on Penelope’s stomach, firmly but not uncomfortably so. “I’m relatively certain you are carrying twins. You will most likely deliver earlier than a normal term.”

  “You can feel them?” Rose asked.

  The midwife, unsmiling until that moment, nodded. She took one of Penelope’s hands in hers and held it over the babies. Penelope felt a lump.

  “I think that’s one,” the midwife said. And then, moving her fingers around a little, she placed Penelope’s hand along the side. Another lump. “And that’s the other one.”

  Penelope was in awe. Rose looked about to burst. Penelope reached out for Rose’s hand and placed it where the midwife had just showed her. “You have to push in a little, Rose, it’s okay.”

  The midwife nodded.

  “What should I do now? Can I get up? Can I walk about the estate? Ride a horse?”

  Rose had removed her hands and so the midwife drew Penelope’s gown downward and the sheet up. “To be safe, I recommend you keep to your bed for at least two days. And after that, lots of rest. I don’t want for you to take on any strenuous activity. No lifting, no long carriage rides, and most definitely no horseback riding.” She looked over to Rose and wagged her finger. “Be certain your mistress drinks plenty of liquids. Tea is good and perhaps some watered-down wine or a bit of ale. She also needs to eat regularly. The wee ones she carries get all of their nutrition from the mother. If the mother doesn’t eat, the babies don’t either.”

  “Should she enter confinement?” Rose asked.

  “It would not hurt. Soon, perhaps.”

  “What about marital relations?” Penelope asked, not wanting to let the midwife escape without having some very pertinent answers. “Does it hurt them?”

  The midwife pursed her lips. “It does not hurt them, per se. But your womb, your body, is vulnerable right now. My belief is that the womb responds to signals it receives concerning the woman’s health. If your health is compromised, in any way, the womb will go into early labor. It’s better that way. If the womb doesn’t receive such signals than the woman’s health can be in peril. These babies are tiny. Your female body needs all of its strength in order to protect and grow them. So, relations with your husband are fine, but they must be tender. And the husband must be willing to halt if the woman feels anything troubling.” The woman frowned. “Carrying more than one child most definitely poses more danger to both you and the babies. They are born smaller than single births. They cannot always breathe enough to survive. I don’t wish to scare you, but you are a plain-speaking lady and I have no wish to wax things over for you.”

  Penelope considered the woman’s words and nodded thoughtfully. She and Hugh had not been tender with each other this morning. She was lucky, indeed, that things hadn’t ended up badly.

  Her little fish were doing well, and she would not jeopardize them for anything.

  If Hugh decided to visit her bed again, they were going to have to have a discussion. This was not the time for squeamishness!

  Things between the two of them had become so… complicated. Surely, not all relationships were this way! The Duke and Duchess of Cortland had met and courted before he had become the duke. They’d been engaged, even, from what Lilly had told her. And then they’d had a great misunderstanding, which had kept them apart for nearly a decade! They’d serendipitously found each other again, but the duke had been engaged to Lady Natalie, now the Countess of Hawthorne.

  When Natalie and Lord Hawthorne had courted, he’d been something of a pariah. That had not been a simple courtship, she was certain of that. But when the respective couples had married, they’d been in love. It had seemed as though everything had been settled.

  Abigail and the Duke of Monfort had not married for love. But something had happened after their wedding, and they were now a most loving couple.

  Perhaps all relationships required more effort than was apparent. Perhaps the calm and warm behavior she saw between the couples now was merely a result of working through the maze of male/female differences.

  As long as both members of the couple were willing to do so.

  Was Hugh willing?

  He’d returned last night. Although he still believed she had betrayed him, lied to him, and trapped him in order to father another man’s child, he’d made an effort at beginning their marriage with some aspect of intimacy.

  Was that all about sex?

  He’d needed some comfort.

  And this morning, he’d held his hand upon her abdomen and expressed curiosity about the babies.

  She wished he could trust her. She wished he had believed her. Oh, how different things might have been between the two of them if only he could be certain that these babies were his.

  Would further discussion bring them closer together or wedge them further apart?

  There was only one way to know.

  Until then, she must lie abed. It was late in the afternoon already, but the sun remained high in the sky. The urge to move about, to seek out her new husband even, was strong indeed. It was going to take a great deal of self-disci
pline to curtail her activity, but she would follow the midwife’s instruction. She would listen to what her body told her.

  Rose escorted the woman out and was just now returning with a tray loaded up with tea and sandwiches. Apparently, she took instructions from the midwife much better than she did from Penelope.

  She assisted Penelope to a reclining position and handed her a cup of hot tea. “Drink up, Pen.” She placed a tiny sandwich on the saucer as well and watched her closely. “And eat. I’ll not take the blame if anything happens to your little ones. We’ve come too far to finish this race empty-handed.”

  Penelope raised her brows. This was, in fact, something of a race. A race of endurance and strategy. Taking a bite of the sandwich, she nodded. “We won’t, Rose.”

  Rose bit her lip and looked down at her apron. “And what of Danbury?”

  Penelope considered the question thoughtfully. “It’s high time he jumped into this race with us, Rose. And not as an opponent. We need him to become a member of this team.”

  Rose nodded in agreement.

  How she would accomplish such a feat? She did not know for sure. But it was time for some plain speaking between them. When he returned, that was.

  If he returned.

  He’d made a bad habit of disappearing in the most inconvenient times lately.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Hugh knew he’d ill-used Penelope this morning.

  Except that… she’d found completion as well. And she’d not been angry with him at all. As he contemplated the events of the past twenty-four hours, he had to admit to himself that he was not so filled with anger as he’d been before the wedding.

  During the ceremony, he’d felt hostile resentment. Standing beside her, solemnly swearing to keep her and honor her for the rest of his life had left him feeling dead inside—cuckolded before he even signed the license.

  It had been his wedding.

  It had felt more like his sentencing.

  And yet, when he’d returned on his wedding night, he’d found a profound satisfaction with her. It had been different than any other lovemaking he’d experienced. He’d been tempted by the barmaid, earlier that day, aroused even when she’d sat in his lap, but it was as though his body knew he was no longer an unmarried man. He’d felt compelled to return to his home—to his wife, by God!

  And Penelope had not been shy with him. At first, perhaps, but as the night progressed, she’d been adventurous and uninhibited.

  He did not allow himself to dwell on those moments when he’d lost control of his emotions. Even though the emotional release had untied the knot he’d carried around for the past week.

  He’d cried.

  God, the last time he’d cried had been his first year at school, when he’d been homesick, lonely, and a little bullied. He’d lived over half his life without giving in to such a bout.

  He felt the loss of his mother deeply. These rooms, these hallways, had always been filled with her presence. And now, on his wedding day, his mother had not been alive to see it.

  Was that partly why he’d felt such bitterness in the chapel? Ah, the ironies of life. Three weeks after his mother’s passing, he became a married man. He’d dodged and maneuvered out of numerous bachelor traps only to be caught by, of all people, Penelope Crone.

  Penelope Chesterton.

  He’d imagined announcing the birth of a son one day, making his mother happy at last. He’d thought he had an endless surplus of time. What a fool he was!

  Yes, his life had, indeed, turned into a comedy of errors. And he had mostly only himself to blame.

  He had proposed to Penelope.

  In London, he’d decided he wanted a wife who could assist him with his estates, with his finances, but also one who aroused him physically. He’d decided she would suit.

  If he’d not been so blinded by his own wants, his own needs, would he have realized her circumstances before proposing?

  She’d fainted while at Augusta Heights!

  She’d sickened at the ball. He’d watched her turn slightly green while dancing with Pinkerton.

  He was a fool!

  And now, he was a married fool.

  He had a wife, who this very moment awaited him in her bedchamber.

  She’d not emerged for supper, or at all, for that matter. Did she await his presence or was she merely avoiding the animal appetites of her husband? He could not help but wince at the memory of the jars and cosmetics falling to the floor as he’d taken his satisfaction with her. He also could not help the surge of blood that flowed to his groin at the memory.

  Without making a conscious decision, he found himself heading toward the master suites. He would not learn anything new by sitting alone contemplating matters. He tapped three times upon the door separating their chambers and stepped in confidently.

  Except that she was not alone.

  Penelope’s maid, Rose, sat on the chair beside the bed and looked at him accusingly. Penelope was in virtually the same position she’d been in when he’d left her. She was lying down on the bed, her knees slightly elevated.

  Her hair had been braided, though, and she wore a different gown. This gown was less tent-like, he could tell, even with the covers pulled up to her bodice. This gown had crocheted flowers about the neckline and appeared to be made of a less durable material.

  Except the other had not been so very durable after all.

  Penelope appeared healthy enough, but had something happened? Was there a problem with…? “Are you well?” He paused in the doorway, suddenly feeling less confident than he had a mere moment before. At her nod, he turned to leave, but her voice halted him.

  “Hugh,” she said. And he realized he liked the way she said his name. It made her sound breathless and less managing. “Please stay.” And then she looked purposefully at the maid.

  He didn’t enter any farther until Rose passed by him and closed the door with one last meaningful look. Damned impertinent chit.

  “Please,” Penelope said, “Come in.” She gestured for him to sit in the chair her maid had vacated. This was not at all what he’d had in mind when he’d come.

  But he acquiesced. And as he did so, a horrible thought hit him like a punch to the gut. He’d been rough with her this morning. And now she was bedridden, it seemed. “Oh, God, Pen. Is everything…? Are you…? The babies?”

  “The babies are fine. I am fine.” She turned her head on the pillow to look at him.

  When he sat down, he took her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. “I’m a brute. I’m worse than a brute.” But his words only made her smile; a secret, sensual smile.

  “You are!” She sounded breathless again, without even saying his name. “Husband.”

  He stared into her eyes. “I am.” He kept hold of her hand. He was surprised at how fragile it seemed. Penelope was always so capable. He was learning she’d hidden an astounding level of sensuality behind her starchiness. “But? You are abed. And I think you have been abed all day.”

  “I have been. And I’ve had the midwife come in to attend to me.” She had grown serious, but her hand squeezed his reassuringly. “I wanted to seek you out but… I am to rest for a few days.” She seemed hesitant now.

  “What did she say?”

  “I want to speak plainly with you.” She bit her lip. Her other hand rested atop her belly, protectively, almost lovingly. “But I do not wish to anger you again.”

  “I would not have you anger me again, either, Pen.” He released her hand. This would always be a barrier between the two of them. Was it not best that for now, anyhow, they avoid it? He’d rather she not throw down the gauntlet again.

  “I want to be your wife, not only in the eyes of the church, but with a meeting of minds… and of bodies. We are friends, too, are we not?”

  Had he considered her a friend? He supposed he had. But now? He looked into her eyes. Seeing the intelligence there, intelligence he’d recognized the first time he’d met her, he nodded. He res
pected Penelope. And yes, he would have her as a friend.

  “You will be the father to these babies when they are born. You are their father now.”

  She could not let it rest. He was her husband and any children borne of her body would be considered his own. If one of the babies was a boy, he would one day become viscount.

  “I am,” he conceded but felt his irritation returning.

  “The midwife says we may have relations.” She held up a hand. “Not for a few days. She said it is best to be certain things have… settled down a bit first.”

  His own guilt from this morning returned swiftly. “I did hurt you.”

  “We, Hugh, we, together, hurt me. I was a full participant. Do not insult me as to insinuate I had no will in the matter. I… well… I…” She stumbled around for her words before blurting out, “I liked it, Hugh. I mean, I really liked it. It opens all possibilities up in my mind as to the type of satisfaction our joining can bring.”

  He sat up straight at her words. Would she ever cease to surprise him? Damn if all his blood wasn’t rushing to his cock. His breath hitched and he couldn’t help but notice the flush spreading up her neck and into her cheeks.

  Sexual tension suddenly filled the room. Oh, yes, he desired his wife. His proposal had been as driven by this as anything else and her condition had not diminished it at all.

  “Afterward,” she persisted, “there was blood. It stopped rather quickly but was of some concern to me. That was why I had Rose summon the midwife.”

  Her words cooled his sudden ardor significantly.

  These babies were to come between them, then. They would always come between them.

  “She said that for after a few days anyhow, and for just a few months most probably, marital relations would be safe.”

  He was beginning to understand the gist of this conversation. “But not, I presume,” he finally understood, “against the dressing room table.”

  Penelope smiled, obviously relieved to have gotten her point through his thick skull. “And, Hugh, she said that if I feel discomfort, or pain, my husband must be willing and able to desist, no matter how advanced matters have proceeded.”