The few people to whom she had been introduced wisely changed their course. Those she did not know but who apparently recognized Graham stopped in their tracks when he cut them without a word. In all fairness they probably would have stared without his deliberate cut, but Penelope was in no humor to appreciate fairness.
On the street, Graham turned his terrible visage on an urchin begging for a penny, scaring the child into fleeing across the street between the prancing legs of horses and massive wheels of carriages. Furiously Penelope jerked her arm from his.
“You did that on purpose! You’re enjoying the role of beast! There was no call whatsoever for behaving like that. People cannot help being startled at the change in your appearance. What is it you expect of them?”
Graham continued walking down the street at a pace that would have left a well man breathless. Their carriage driver broke from the ranks of waiting vehicles to follow.
“I expect nothing of them. They all performed just as I knew they would. Anything less than perfection shocks their feeble wits. Why is it that you do not turn from me in horror, I wonder? Were you so desperate to be rescued from your stifling village that you would have married any monster that came along?”
Penelope gasped at the cruelty of this retort, but her better sense overcame her anger. He was hurt and striking out at the only target available. That gave him no excuse for cruelty, but understanding made it easier to take.
“I expect an apology when you return to your senses. I was not brought up in the company of people who spend all their time and money on making themselves beautiful. The people I know are marred or made beautiful by their characters and actions. I am accustomed to seeing them as they are, not as they would like to be. It is not your scars I see, but your kindness. Until tonight, leastways.”
With a signal to his carriage driver to stop, Graham gave Penelope his hand to help her in. “You need not endure my evil temper, my dear. I will walk it off. Albert will take you home.”
Penelope balked at being sent away like an unwanted child. “I’ll not have you stalking the streets, scaring the populace while I ride home in comfort. Let us walk the streets together.”
Since she wore a skirt too small for the kind of country walking she had grown up with, and her satin slippers would be torn to shreds on the bricks and cobblestones, Graham surmised she would not last ten minutes. Instead of arguing, he shrugged, muttered, “Very well,” and strode off.
Ten minutes later she was still beside him, matching him stride for angry stride. Or two strides to his one. The limitations of her clothing hobbled her as much as his limp, and they made a rare sight pattering beneath the gas lamps in a breathless attempt to out-walk each other.
His temper could not withstand the humor, and Graham finally called a halt when his cane caught in a hole, and Penelope stubbed her toe on a raised brick. Forcing back a grin, he signaled for the patient coachman once again.
“There is no point in both of us being crippled. Let us call it a night, my lady.”
“You will not growl and take my head off before we reach home?” she asked warily, taking his hand and stepping into the carriage.
He swung up beside her, filling the remaining seat cushion and enforcing their proximity. “No, your head is exactly where it should be, my pretty one. Don’t ever lose it.”
Penelope smiled up at him in relief. “I shall take great care not to misplace it then.” Her expression turned serious. “I’ll not ask you to take me out again. I did not mean to cause you pain.”
“On the contrary, we will accept the Larchmont’s invitation to their ball next week. Your acquaintances are sadly lacking in manners and morals, and I mean to rectify the situation at once. Send for Madame and have the proper gown made up.”
He seemed so restored to humor she did not have the heart to argue. She had a wardrobe full of gowns she had yet to wear. She would hold her own on that point. This reckless extravagance on clothes had to end somewhere.
Penelope tried to concentrate on these thoughts instead of the awareness of her husband’s closeness in the dark carriage. She seldom had the occasion to be this near to a man, and the proximity shook her a little. Graham had been in all things proper, and as her husband, he had every right to occupy this seat with her. She should not reflect so on his almost frightening masculinity. Perhaps she was overtired and overwrought. Graham had held her hand many times before. She should place no significance in it.
But she could not help but feel the shiver when for the first time he kissed her palm before retiring. It did not signify. She had seen other men do it out of gallantry. But when the chamber door closed, she touched the place where his lips had rested with wistfulness, and she slept with that hand beneath her cheek.
Chapter 9
Graham had bowed out of attending Dolly’s ball, preferring to make his stand on the much larger Larchmont occasion later in the week. Without his accompaniment, Penelope relied on Guy’s escort.
But by the supper hour, Penelope waited in the draped entrance of the Reardon ballroom. She watched Guy skillfully lead Dolly through the music and regretted that she must draw him away, even as they danced over to her.
“Have you grown tired of dancing so soon? Shall I introduce you to the card players in the salon?” he asked.
Dolly appeared breathtakingly lovely this night, and Penelope smiled at the picture these two made, the petite strawberry blonde and the rakish, handsome soldier. They naturally gravitated toward each other in any room they entered.
“I am sorry, Guy, but I cannot help worrying about Alexandra. I know she in all probability is sound asleep, but I am so fearful she will wake and be fretful that I cannot enjoy myself. I have a driver and a footman to look after me. I simply wanted to let you know I am leaving.”
“Oh, Penelope, you cannot go alone!” Dolly protested. “Remember that poor girl last night after the theater! Let me call one of my brothers to go with you. I would be afraid to go out at night without an armed escort.”
Penelope laughed. “That poor girl, as you style her, was out wandering the street where she had no right to be. I cannot imagine why anyone would be so foolish as to be out in the street alone in jewels and silk. I have no intention of being bludgeoned to death. I will be quite safe with John and Albert and the carriage.”
“No matter. I will go with you,” Guy said. “Miss Reardon, if you will excuse me, I’ll send for this foolish lady’s carriage.” He bowed and walked off despite Penelope’s protests.
“He is quite right, so don’t argue.” Dolly caught her arm with a rush of excitement. “Did I tell you? We received a letter from my brother Arthur today. We have thought him dead all these months, but he writes he has been injured and in a hospital. His handwriting is still very poor and the letter, brief, but I am sure we will hear the whole story when he returns. Isn’t it the most wondrous thing?”
“Lady Reardon mentioned it when we arrived. I am so happy for you. Did the letter say when he would return?”
Dolly frowned. “No. I expect it depends on his injuries. But Henry is making inquiries now that we know where he is. It has been years since we’ve seen him. You must tell Lord Trevelyan. They were great friends once.”
“Then you should be the one to pass on the happy news. Come tomorrow for tea. He should be there then.”
“Not tomorrow. We will be shopping for the Larchmont ball. The next day?” Dolly inquired.
They set the date, and Penelope departed with her escort. Guy made an attentive companion, and she enjoyed his conversation as the carriage rolled through silent streets, but her mind was elsewhere. She had not seen Graham since the debacle at the theater the night before, and she was as worried about him as she was Alexandra.
Guy made a wry smile as she failed to answer a repeated question. “Penelope? If I am disturbing your thoughts, I will be quiet.”
Startled, she returned to the conversation. “I’m sorry, Guy, I’m just tired and not very goo
d company. You should have stayed with Dolly.”
“Fustian. She has so many admirers she won’t miss an old man like me. What is it, Penelope? You are worrying about something.”
“No, nothing, really. It’s just. . .” She threw up her hands, unable to explain.
“It’s Trev, isn’t it? I could tell he was building up to a fury last night, but I didn’t know how to stop it. Why ever did he choose to make such a public debut? There should have been an easier way.”
“It’s my fault. I wanted to see Macbeth again, and he offered to take me. I really didn’t think about it causing such a spectacle. The theater is dark and crowded and why should anyone notice who was there? I never meant to cause him such pain.”
Guy patted her hand as the carriage pulled up in front of the house. “Trev knew what he was doing even if you didn’t. It’s rather like learning to swim. You have to dive in headfirst and then strike out. You can’t learn by dabbling your toes in the water.”
Penelope shook her head. “Perhaps, but then why would he not accompany me tonight? I wish I understood him better.”
“Trev has never been readily understandable. In his youth he had wealth and title, good looks, and more talents than any one man deserved. He could have had all the women swooning at his feet and the men emulating his every action. Instead, he would disappear for months at a time playacting or shipbuilding or the devil knows what. He spent more time at his country estate than he ever spent in London, yet he knew everybody and everything that went on. I don’t mind telling you he was as generous with his vices as he was with his time and money. Trev never half did anything. You can’t possibly expect to understand a man like that.”
Penelope desperately wanted to know more, but she had no right to pry, and Guy had given her enough to think on. As the butler let them in the front door, she pressed his hand with gratitude. “Thank you, Guy. I feel less of a goose now.”
Guy grinned. “Lady Trevelyan, there is nothing of the goose about you. It’s that dratted gander of yours that’s the problem. Threaten him with the sauce and see if he comes up to snuff.”
That mixture of metaphors made Penelope wince, and she sent him off with a laugh. Leaving the butler to lock up, she hurried up both flights of stairs to check on Alexandra. Finding all well in the nursery, she returned to the floor of the master suite. With a little leap of her heart she noted a light in the library. Perhaps Graham had waited up for her.
Gently opening the door, she gasped in surprise at the sight of thick dark curls bent over a book where she normally expected to see Graham’s silver hair. She had not meant to intrude upon a stranger, but as he looked up at her entrance, she had no choice but to greet him.
He was silhouetted against the firelight, and she could distinguish little of his features. His long dark hair fell upon a wide forehead, and the candlelight threw shadows over a fine line scarring his cheek. She could not quite see the scar’s beginning or end, but it added distinction to an otherwise smoothly handsome face.
As he stood, she noticed he wore his clothes as carelessly as Graham. Although he still had his coat on, his cravat hung loose, and he had apparently discarded his formal shirt collar. Penelope could tell by the flicker of the firelight that his waistcoat was unbuttoned, also.
“I didn’t mean to intrude. I saw the light and thought my husband might be up. He did not warn me to expect a guest.”
The stranger closed his book and came around the table. “I hope I did not startle you. Lady Trevelyan, is it not? Trev retired for the evening, but he warned me to expect you. I am Clifton Chadwell, a cousin of Graham’s.”
The family resemblance was strong, although Mr. Chadwell’s mouth was full and mobile, and his jaw firm where Graham’s sagged beneath his scars.
“Very pleased to meet you, sir. Will you be staying with us for a while? I hope the maids have made up your room to your satisfaction.”
Chadwell bowed over her hand and did not relinquish it. He studied her with interest. “I have become accustomed to Graham’s bachelor existence and have made myself at home. He is generous enough to give me full run of his house when I am in the city. I hope my odd coming and goings will not disturb your routine?”
“No, of course not. You must behave as if nothing has changed. I have tried not to disrupt Graham’s habits too greatly. Are you comfortable, then?”
“I would be much more comfortable should you stay a while. Do you play chess, Lady Trevelyan? Trev’s early hours make him a most useless companion.”
A trick of the firelight caught the gleam of Chadwell’s golden eyes, and their piercing intensity mesmerized Penelope. Shaken by the impact, she backed away.
“I have not played in a while. Perhaps some other time. It is quite late. . .” She didn’t know how to make her escape. She felt as if some powerful magnet held her in place, and she could only stare helplessly and wait for release.
“Tomorrow, then,” his deep voice urged. “Trev says you have not yet seen the city. I have the use of his carriage. Why don’t we see the sights tomorrow after luncheon?”
“I could not. I mean, I visit with Alexandra in the afternoons, and Graham expects me at tea. I do not know if there is time. . .”
“We will start early and be back in plenty of time for Alexandra and tea. I am certain Graham will have no objection.” Chadwell continued holding her hand as he gazed down upon her.
“No, of course not,” she answered distractedly. How could Graham object? He had all but thrown her into the arms of society in hopes she would find a lover to keep her occupied. He certainly couldn’t object if she entertained his own cousin. She was the one petrified at the thought, and she didn’t know why.
Taking this for agreement, Chadwell brushed his lips across her knuckles. “Till tomorrow, then.”
Penelope curled her fingers into her palm and fled the room. She had never felt such an entire goose in her life. Trevelyan had not terrified her so much when he had emerged from the fog. In these last few days she had met lords and ladies and sophisticated gentlemen by the score, but other than nervousness, she had never felt like a schoolroom miss in their presence. Why, then, did this man shatter her composure so easily?
As she entered her chambers, she glanced at the closed door to Graham’s room. If only she could talk with him. . . but she did not dare encroach upon his privacy. Part of their agreement was that she not interfere with his habits. She was being foolish. There could be nothing wrong in entertaining his cousin.
If only Clifton Chadwell didn’t have eyes just like Graham’s, except they seemed to see right into her heart.
It wasn’t just his eyes, Penelope realized the next day. Clifton Chadwell’s touch turned her into jelly, his wit decimated her defenses, and his smile melted any protests she could raise.
Not that she didn’t try to keep him at a distance. She made him take the barouche and sit on the opposite seat while he pointed out White Hall and the Tower and the various offices of notables. When he insisted that they descend from the carriage to view the lions and to inspect Westminster, she very properly touched only a gloved hand to the arm of his coat.
But by the time they had indulged in lemon ices, decorated themselves in pinks from a flower girl, and ruined their gloves with the sticky juices of fresh strawberries in the fruit market, propriety had fled.
Penelope giggled as Chadwell mourned the demise of his stained glove and decorated it with flowers from his lapel in a funeral arrangement. She chanted a psalm over the glove’s grave—an overgrown jardinière on the steps of an imposing edifice—and added her own flowers to the corpse. Then, gloveless and laughing, they returned to the carriage where their myriad purchases of the day reposed on the far seat, necessitating that they sit together.
Not until he had dropped her off at home and drove off on business of his own did Penelope reflect on the scandalousness of her behavior. Had anyone seen them, they would have become subject of rumor for half the gossips in town. G
raham would never forgive her.
Worrying at her stained gloves, she hurried upstairs to change before visiting Alexandra. She would simply have to avoid Clifton Chadwell from now on. He was not the kind of gentleman she should be seen with. In fact, she greatly suspected he was a rake.
Alexandra bounced in bed as Penelope hurried in to hug her. “I want to go riding. When can we go riding? I am all better now. Please, Penelope, please. “
“You must rest until the spots are all gone. Just think of this as a holiday from your lessons and a chance to lie about and have everyone play with you. You’ll be up and about in no time.”
Alexandra pouted at this news, but she delved eagerly into the games Penelope taught her and finally fell asleep while being read a fairy tale. Penelope kissed her forehead and slipped away, eager to see if Graham would come down for tea.
She smiled at finding Graham waiting for her in the small salon. His silvered hair flared in a mane about his forehead, and she had the urge to trim it properly. Otherwise he looked magnificent standing there in a frock coat cut away at the waist to reveal his trim figure, his shoulders straining at the tailored seams as he rose to greet her. Except for his injuries, he compared quite favorably with his rakehell cousin. In fact, she preferred Graham’s quiet kindness.
He seemed surprised at her welcome, but he took her hand to assist her to the chair beside the tea tray. “I take it you have left Alexandra in good health and spirits.”
“And sound asleep. I shall have to allow her out of bed for short periods soon. She is likely to drive Mrs. Haywood and the nursemaids into quitting if she is confined much longer.”
“That would make her happy. Then she would be with you all day long. Perhaps you had better let her out of bed. You are much too valuable to spend all of your time closeted in the nursery.”
Love Forever After Page 8