Lady at last

by Annabelle Anders

Perhaps victim was a stronger word than necessary, but he most certainly was not the villain that the baroness had decided to paint him.

  He would not absent himself from the evening meal.

  When he returned to the house, for the most part, things were quiet. He knew the staff was preparing a formal meal, but Penelope was nowhere to be found. She must be in her room resting.

  He hoped that was where she was, anyhow.

  A pang of guilt niggled at him when he remembered how he’d left her in the salon earlier. He’d known she’d been tired when they returned from church. He’d seen it in her eyes as she’d thanked the vicar and then been trapped by a few of the local meddling elderly ladies. He’d rescued her then, steering her away with some vague excuse.

  And when they’d climbed into the barouche, he noticed that she was rubbing her back again. She did more and more of that lately. Surely, she did not have a long wait before the babies would be born.

  And again, the frustration arose inside of him, for these children would be born just a few months after he’d first lain with his wife.

  As always, he tried to subdue his anger over this. He tried to reconcile the reality of the situation within himself, but the irritations arose again and again.

  As he ascended the stairs to his chamber, the dinner gong rang out.

  He and Penelope had not used it very often, choosing instead to dine informally together. The deep solemn chime reminded him of his mother. What would she have said to the baroness this afternoon? Would Hugh have told his mother the truth of his and Penelope’s marriage?

  Most likely not.

  Most likely, she would have chided him much the same, only in a more loving and less shrill manner.

  In fact, upon consideration, he remembered that his mother and the baroness had been more than acquaintances. But, of course, both were titled members of the ton, of similar age. He wondered if the baroness mourned his mother. She’d arrived quite flamboyantly, dressed in vibrant reds and oranges. She’d most likely slept in a nearby inn the previous night so as not to arrive at Morrow Point wrinkled from a long day of travel.

  Rose was just entering Penelope’s suite. She grimaced when she saw him.

  “Rose,” he said. “Is she all right? Her mother was… not very agreeable when she arrived.”

  The maid seemed to contemplate her answer carefully. “My lady was more worried for you. She knows the subject is a sore one.”

  Surely, Rose knew the truth of all of it. Would the maid tell him more than Penelope had?

  As soon as the thought registered in his mind, he dismissed it. It would be unfair to seek answers from the person Penelope most likely trusted more than anyone else in the world.

  He wished it would ever be like that between the two of them but did not have much hope. “Her health is what matters most right now. Is she well enough for dinner?”

  “I suggested having dinner brought up to her this evening, but she is determined to protect you from her mother.”

  Hugh smiled. “I will dine with her mother. If she is sleeping, do not awaken her.”

  “She won’t be happy with me.”

  There were times when he simply must be master. “As it may be.” He turned on his heel and entered his own chamber quietly. Damnation and bollocks, he realized, he was to dine with the baroness alone.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  For most of their marriage, Hugh had slept through the night in his wife’s bed. On the first night of her mother’s arrival, however, he did not come. And Rose, drat that girl, had not awakened her so that she could go down for dinner. It was nearly midnight before Penelope opened her eyes, confused at the darkness, and realized what she’d missed.

  Angry as she was, she grudgingly admitted to herself that the sleep had been well needed. Unfortunately, now that she was well rested, everyone else was already abed. But it felt wrong. It felt wrong not knowing where her husband was.

  He’d joined her, many a night, after she’d already taken to bed, and awakened her to make love. He would lay behind her and skim his hands along her body until she was ready for him to…

  But where was he now? She’d not ventured into his room before. She’d never had the need. Ought she to? Had he merely refrained from coming to her because he was concerned for her wellbeing?

  Penelope chewed her bottom lip, contemplating what to do. He was irritated with her. Her mother had unearthed their buried issues and thrown them into Hugh’s face. Penelope paced about her room for several minutes before coming to a decision.

  Without knocking, she pushed open the adjoining door between their two chambers. It squeaked loudly as she did so. How had Hugh entered her room those nights before without awakening her?

  Emboldened by the quiet, she tiptoed over to his bed and…

  He was not there.

  Where had he gone? He must be in his study. She returned to her room, donned a dressing gown and then padded barefoot downstairs ever so quietly. Good Heavens, she had no wish to awaken her mother.

  A hint of light peeked through the door, and sure enough, Hugh sat in the large winged-back chair cradling a glass of scotch.

  Ah, the irony.

  “Hugh,” she spoke softly. “I’m sorry I missed supper.”

  He glanced up but didn’t smile. He did not look to be fuming over an evening spent with her mother, though. He looked rather pensive, instead. He shrugged away her apology. “I told Rose not to wake you. It’s important you don’t overtire.”

  She tiptoed toward him. If he were in a different mood, she would feel comfortable perching herself upon his lap. It was an intimate setting and they most certainly would not be interrupted at this hour. Instead, she opted for the settee. She pulled her feet up off of the floor and tucked them under her gown. “You did not kill her, did you?”

  He raised his brows. “I refrained.”

  “What did you talk about?” Sometimes, he could be so open with her, but others, as in now, he kept his emotions shuttered.

  He took in a deep breath and then expelled it slowly. “Oh, hell, Penelope, what do you think we talked about? Surely, not the weather?”

  “There is no need to be sarcastic with me. If you are angry with her than be angry with her. If you are angry with me, be angry with me.” Although her words were a rebuke, she kept her voice even.

  Hugh leaned forward and rested his forearms along his thighs. “That’s the devil of it, Pen. Her complaints would be well deserved by me if there was any truth, any truth at all in them. But there is not. The fact remains that I am your husband. You are going to give birth to another man’s children, and I shall be forced to claim them as my own. As my heir, even, if one is a boy.” He set his glass down on the table beside him and looked at her intently. “I have tried so very hard to move beyond this, to find some reconciliation within myself. You are my wife, for God’s sake! I have never found such pleasure, nor enjoyment with any other woman. But, God damnit, Penelope, there is a part of me that is sickened by it. I see your body grow large with child, with children. I touch your body, I join my body with yours, and yet still, this pregnancy… At times, it mocks me. No matter how much I wish it away, the truth remains.”

  His words confirmed the worries that had been building up inside of her. But they were his children! Penelope held back a sob and raised her hand to rub her forehead. “Please, Hugh. Won’t you please give some consideration to the possibility that what I told you in the beginning is the truth?”

  “Delude myself, you mean?” His top lip curled in disgust. “I wish I could. God, I’ve tried. But I just cannot. It would be like trying to convince myself the sun is blue, or the ocean is dry. I just… can’t. I simply cannot.”

  “I am a liar, then. Forever a liar? You surely can have no respect for me at all if you refuse to believe the remote possibility that you,” a hysterical laugh emerged from her, “Hugh Chesterton, could not possibly have imbibed to the point that he had no memory whatsoever of swiving somebod
y—of laying with me.” She took a deep, slow breath before continuing. “It was early in the evening. Cortland had gone up to be with Lilly, and I had been awake for… too long… attending the birth. After watching Lilly give birth, I went outside for some air. I stood and watched the sun set and as I did so, I was overwhelmed by a physical urge, as likely to any hunger as you can imagine, to make my own baby.”

  At his look of scorn and disbelief, Penelope forced herself to forge ahead. “You had been with Cortland, drinking. Good God, you’d been drinking for days. I came to you with the intention of flirtation. I wished to see if I could lure you into a compromising situation so that you would offer for me. And yes, I am aware of how horrible that in itself would have been! But I did not intend for any of this!” She gestured toward her belly, toward the room about them. A sob broke from her. “As God is my witness, I only wanted, I only wished for…”

  “Stop it! Enough!” He sprung to his feet and strode toward the hearth. His voice echoed through the room, sharply, commanding.

  Penelope went to stand as well, only to be frustrated by her gown trapped beneath her. So, she rose to her knees instead and implored him. “I know it was wrong! It was manipulative and dishonest and immoral. I used you! God, Hugh, I am so very sorry. You cannot know how I regret the way I chose to go about all of this. But I cannot regret these children. I did not intend to get myself with child that morning. And, Lord help me, you are the only man I’ve ever lain with. I swear to you this is the truth. All I can do is ask you to forgive me. To believe me and forgive me. Please believe me.”

  She took a breath. She did not even realize she’d been holding it. All that could be heard in the room was her breathing now. “Please, Hugh, please believe me.” Her last words were little more than a whisper.

  Hugh remained staring down into the empty fireplace.

  The words he spoke were not at all what she expected. “I am going away. I do not know when I will return. I’ve decided to leave you to your mother’s care. I cannot be here, watch as you…”

  His words struck her as no physical blow ever could. “But… what about…? Where will you go?”

  He seemed to consider her answer. “I don’t know. London, Summer’s Park, perhaps, or maybe Augusta Heights.”

  Penelope felt a desolate loss. She’d failed. She’d done all she could to convince him and he was no closer to believing her than he had been on the day she arrived. She could not change his mind.

  “I love you.” She did not know why she said it now. For him? For herself? She knew it would not change his mind, but could her love change his heart?

  He looked over at her and nodded. “I will be leaving at sun up. Tell your mother whatever you wish. Tell her there is trouble in Manchester, I don’t care. I can’t be here right now. Perhaps, afterward.”

  Penelope dropped back into the sofa. He would ruin their marriage over this? It seemed, perhaps, he might. For if he did not return in time for the birth of their children, she might be the one who could not forgive.

  Hugh bowed in her direction and left the room.

  “Damn you, Hugh! God damn you!” But it was only a whisper. And it was for her ears only.

  Hugh was gone.

  Penelope did not sleep much that night. As strong as the urge was to seek him out, to say more, anything else which would convince him not to leave right now, she had an even stronger conviction that it would prove futile.

  She could not make him believe her.

  He’d been adamant that he was not able to reconcile his feelings toward her and his feelings toward the babies she carried. Even after she’d told him that she loved him.

  He’d probably believed that had been a ruse as well. He did not trust her. It was possible that he never would.

  She was married, but alone, it seemed. She wept some, she slept fitfully, and she fumed. By the time she awoke the next morning, with the sure knowledge in her mind that he’d most certainly already left the estate, both her body and her mind were exhausted.

  Rose knew something was wrong immediately. Penelope’s eyes were bloodshot and swollen and the viscount had not joined her in the large bed. Only one side of the coverlet and blankets had been disturbed.

  “Pen, Oh, Pen. What happened? I was going to awaken you, but he ordered me to let you have your rest. He assured me that he was more than capable of dining alone with your mother.”

  Penelope did not even glance at Rose. She just sat on the bed, staring out the window at the grounds of Hugh’s home. “It doesn’t matter. It wasn’t your fault. It would have happened eventually.” And then, turning to look over at her loyal companion, she grimaced. “He can’t get over the babies. And he refuses to even consider the possibility that I have not lied to him regarding his part in their conception.”

  “Where is he?”

  A lump formed in Penelope’s throat, forcing her to stifle the urge to cry again. “He’s gone away. He didn’t know where, but he said he could not bear to be here for the remainder of my confinement, nor for the birth of the babies. What does he expect me to do after they are born? Send them away? Surely, they will be a constant reminder to him.”

  “And what, might I ask, will he think if they come out looking like a couple of miniature Danburys?”

  Penelope had not even considered such a possibility. With her luck, they most likely would turn out to be the spitting image of herself. Poor little mites. She shrugged and shook her head. “Years of his mistrust, months even, will be enough to harden my heart against him. He doesn’t trust me. He refuses to believe me. What kind of relationship can we have if there is to be no trust?”

  Rose scratched the side of her head, thoughtfully. “I see your point. And I had thought things were going so well. You have gone about like a couple of happily married newlyweds.”

  At those words, Penelope’s eyes welled up with tears again. She swiped at them angrily. “He is willing to throw it all away. That is what makes me so angry. He does not respect my word enough to trust me. I cannot do anything about it. I don’t have the energy to persist with him regarding the truth. And I will not pretend there was another man before him. I am in the wrong for a great deal of things, but I never, never tried to pass another man’s baby off as his. I would not do that. And if he wishes to believe that that is what I did, that that is who I am, then good riddance! To hell with him!”

  Rose handed over the steaming chocolate she’d brought in. “Don’t get worked up, Pen. It’s not good for the babies.”

  Penelope nodded and dutifully took a sip. Rose was right. All that mattered right now were the babies. She would do what was best for them. They were her entire life right now.

  And on that thought, a shrill, yet all too familiar voice called into the room, “Penelope dear! Are you dressed? Good Heavens, look at you! I was never so large with child as you are!” Perfumed and coiffured already, her mother found a seat and examined Penelope critically. “Tsk, tsk tsk, it is going to be difficult to regain your shape afterward. Perhaps you need to restrict you eating a wee bit. A husband such as Danbury is sure to lose interest in you, dear, if you don’t take proper care of your looks.”

  Penelope restrained herself from tossing the leftover chocolate in her drink into her mother’s face. And now, she would be obliged to explain Danbury’s absence.

  “My lady.” Rose, the dear sweet girl, curtsied “If you don’t mind my interference, your daughter has done exactly as has been recommended by the midwife.”

  “Mind your tongue, girl.” The baroness turned to Penelope. “What does a country midwife know anyhow? I do so wish you were in London so that we could bring in a proper doctor. Much better for the baby!”

  “Babies, Mama, remember, there are two?”

  As though Penelope had not spoken, her mother continued, “Midwifery is practically witchcraft! I imagine, right now, a physician might even recommend a bit of blood-letting. You claim to be so knowledgeable of all things modern and yet you would leave
the care of your husband’s heir to a mere midwife! You do intend a physician be the attendant at the birth though, I hope.”

  “The midwife will do just fine.” Penelope was of the opinion that there were more fatalities with male physicians than there were with midwives. A woman attending her birth seemed more natural to her though. What with a woman being, well, a woman.

  “At least allow dear departed Lady Danbury’s physician to examine you. For my own nerves, Penelope.”

  Penelope rolled her eyes and then nodded. She would concede this one point.

  But she could not go on this way.

  “If I do as you ask, will you leave, Mama? It is not that I do not love you, nor enjoy your company, but I am concerned that I cannot provide you with any entertainment whilst you are here.” In other words, you will most certainly drive me to Bedlam if you stay.

  “Well, I never!”

  “Mother, Hugh left this morning. What did you say to him last night?”

  “He left? Left where?”

  “Mother, he left me!”

  Her mother appeared not to be overly troubled by the announcement. “Most likely for the best. Not to worry, he’ll be back. Men are squeamish where childbirth is concerned. You’ll not want him underfoot when the baby comes.”

  Babies!

  “What did you say to him?” She loved her parents dearly, but there were days… Penelope closed her eyes and forced herself to remain calm.

  “I merely told him what he needed to hear. Why, what he did to you was criminal! I told him it was going to be necessary that he change his disreputable ways and become a proper husband. We had some plain speaking, if I do say so myself. I told him no more whoring about. Men get diseases from such sinful depravity! And then they put their genteel wives at risk. I’d not have that for my only daughter. That man has a horrible reputation, you know. You’ll have to take him in hand when he returns.”

  It had been exactly as she’d feared.

  “It was not what he needed to hear, Mama. It was exactly the opposite of what he needed to hear.” But none of this mattered now. It most likely would have all come to this anyhow. She’d felt the tension building every time their conversation grew too intimate. She sighed heavily. “I love you, Mama, but I would rather not have you here right now.”