Penny ignored the command, continuing hastily, “Our child was conceived upon that very night. I was examined by the local physician just this past week in fact, and he confirmed the timing.”
“Well that’s hardly cause for surprise, as we both know just how convincing you can be when you wish to,” Gabriel stated caustically. “And of course when the child arrives well before its anticipated due date, I have no doubt that the good doctor will be similarly convinced to declare the child conveniently premature,” he continued with a contemptuous sneer.
“Gabriel-”
“No, damn you! I will not stand here and listen to any more of your lies.”
Though Penny choked back a sob, she couldn’t contain the moisture welling in the corners of her eyes as she regarded him entreatingly. “I would never lie to you,” she uttered softly, as the tears began to roll slowly down her cheeks. “Gabriel, please,” she continued, raising her hand to him in supplication, “I love you.”
“Don’t!” he ordered furiously, his expression hardening as his arms dropped, his hands curling into tightly-clenched fists at his sides.
Seeing the contempt reflected in the depths of Gabriel’s beautiful green eyes, Penny felt as if her heart was being sliced to ribbons within her chest. “Is it truly so difficult… for you to believe… that I might actually… be telling the truth?” she choked brokenly, her expression beseeching.
He didn’t answer her question, and for several long seconds they simply stared at one another in the taut, heavy silence. Then, with a weary shake of her head, Penny said softly, “You really don’t know me at all, do you?”
Gabriel visibly stiffened and for a moment it appeared as if he was about to respond, but then abruptly he turned to the door. When he reached it he stopped, his hand stilling upon the brass knob for several seconds, before he turned back to her with an austere expression. “You had better pray that child you’re carrying is a girl,” he stated forbiddingly, “for I can assure you, Madame, that there is no way in hell that I will ever allow another man’s bastard to inherit the title and lands that have been in my family for generations.”
Penny regarded him unflinchingly through the sheen of her tears. “Then you would do naught but deny your own son his birthright,” she said in a remarkably steady voice, “for whether this child is a boy or a girl, it is your child.”
Gabriel didn’t respond. Instead, he turned back to the door, jerked it open and exited into the hallway, pulling the heavy wooden portal closed behind him with an ominous-sounding thud.
It was only then that Penny finally gave way to the agonizing, heartrending pain that seemed to radiate from her chest and move unerringly throughout her entire body; and sinking to her knees upon the carpeted floor, she succumbed to a torrent of violent, wracking sobs that felt as if they would surely go on forever.
Downstairs, Gabriel gave strict instructions to Hastings that he wasn’t to be disturbed, before continuing on to his study and locking himself behind the set of wide, cherry-paneled doors. Damn her, he thought furiously as he strode to the liquor cabinet and grabbed the heavy brandy decanter from within, along with one of the matching crystal tumblers. God damn her to hell! Then, setting both the decanter and the glass carelessly onto his desk, he threw himself into the leather chair behind it. And for a time he just sat there in silence, staring wrathfully at the closed doors, wondering how he could have possibly allowed himself to think for even a moment that the past months had been anything other than a continuation of the heinous deception she had embarked upon in Scotland, outraged to know that he had allowed himself to be deceived once again; more so because fool that he was, he’d allowed himself to care, had allowed himself to care about her. For though it galled him to admit it, in that split second when he’d first glimpsed the rounded curve of her stomach and thought that it was his, the notion had filled him with joy.
Perhaps even worse, however, was the stomach-turning realization that if she hadn’t continued to lie, if she hadn’t come up with that ridiculous nonsense about being drugged and had instead directed her efforts toward persuading him how truly sorry she was, or to convincing him perhaps that she had only acted out of the sheerest desperation that night in Scotland and begged for forgiveness, he might have actually believed her; and moreover, might well have been foolish enough to forgive her.
With a disgusted shake of his head he reached out and grasped the decanter, poured himself a full measure of the amber liquid and then lifted it to his lips, downing it in a single swallow. The only consolation he reasoned, as he sat there wallowing in the mire of self-condemnation, was knowing how it must have vexed the vile, conniving she-devil when he’d failed to consummate their marriage; for if he’d bedded Penelope on their wedding night, or even shortly thereafter, he might never have known that the brat she was caring wasn’t his.
Hell, now that he thought about it, it was no wonder she’d come to his bedchamber that night in London, for in all likelihood she had merely been hoping that after he’d bedded her she might somehow have been able to hide her condition long enough to convince him that the child was his. Maybe you should touch me, she’d said; and once again he’d fallen right into her neatly-laid trap. Grabbing the brandy decanter, he refilled his glass and downed it just as quickly as he had the first. Then, slamming the empty tumbler onto the desk a second later, he stared at the glinting, cut-diamond pattern for several long moments as his fingers remained tightly curled around the base of the glass. I would never lie to you. I love you. Fool! Fool! Fool! The word echoed within his head like the dissonant clang of a bell.
With a muttered curse he rose abruptly to his feet and hurled the weighty tumbler against the opposite wall, watching as it shattered into a thousand tiny crystal shards.
Chapter 18
When Penny awoke the following morning her head was pounding and her eyes felt swollen and raw from the seemingly endless stream of tears she’d shed throughout the long night; for once she’d managed to pick herself up off of the floor and stumble to her bed, she’d lain awake for hours, sobbing into her pillow.
Turning her aching head slowly toward the curtained windows, she could tell from the light streaming through the cracks that it was well past dawn; and while she had no idea what time it had been when she’d finally fallen asleep, she knew that it couldn’t have been more than a few short hours ago. Nonetheless, she forced herself upright, hoping against hope that Gabriel’s temper had cooled during the night and that he might somehow be persuaded to at least consider what she had to say. Pushing the covers aside then, she glanced toward the small brass clock sitting atop the nightstand, noting that the time was half past eight and that the ever-dutiful Meg must have come into her room whilst she’d still slept, for next to the clock sat a tray bearing an empty teacup and a small pot of the peppermint tea that she’d developed a particular craving for during the past weeks.
However, it wasn’t the peppermint tea that drew her focus, but the rectangular white envelope propped against the side of the floral-etched porcelain teapot. Swinging her legs over the side of the mattress, she leaned forward and reached for the envelope, noting with a sudden, uneasy feeling that it was unaddressed, before flipping it over and breaking the plain wax seal. Then, withdrawing the single sheet of paper, she slowly began to read; and as she did her eyes slowly widened, her breathing growing increasingly shallow and ragged. She read the letter through and then read it again a second time, her mind reeling in shock, before finally she allowed the thin piece of parchment to slip from her limp grasp and drift slowly down to the carpeted floor beneath her feet. He was sending her away.
For a moment she could only sit there in stunned disbelief, but then once she’d collected herself, she rose from the bed and strode hurriedly toward the dressing room door. Opening it, she hastened to the opposite door, pulling it open without knocking. But Gabriel wasn’t in his chamber. In fact, it appeared that only the newly-hired chambermaid and the housekeeper, Mrs. Hob
bs, were present, the two standing on opposite sides of the bed as they worked together to change the linens.
Noting Penny’s sudden entrance, they both stopped what they were doing and looked up in surprise. “Good morning, Your Grace,” Mrs. Hobbs greeted as she straightened and hastily affected a courteous bob, the action promptly mimicked by the young chambermaid.
“Oh, good morning, Mrs. Hobbs,” Penny replied self-consciously. “Excuse me for interrupting. I was… looking for my husband.”
Mrs. Hobbs eyed her somewhat curiously for a moment before responding. “I’m sorry Your Grace, but I’m afraid that His Grace has already departed.”
“Departed?”
“For Sunderland, Your Grace,” Mrs. Hobbs clarified. “He left earlier this morning, shortly past daybreak.”
“Yes, yes of course,” Penny stated, endeavoring to affect a composed expression. “I had merely thought to speak with him before he departed,” she continued lamely, “but I… didn’t realize he would be departing quite so early.”
Mrs. Hobbs nodded her head in understanding. “No doubt His Grace didn’t wish to wake you at such an early hour.”
“Yes,” she replied with an agreeable smile, “I’m sure that you’re correct. If you’ll excuse me, I shall leave you to your tasks,” she said then, before turning back into the dressing room and pulling the door closed behind her.
Returning to her chamber, Penny moved to the nearby chaise and dropped down onto the tufted cushion. He was gone. Sitting there, her thoughts spinning in a befuddled whirl, she could scarce believe it, though clearly it was true. Gabriel had left Ainsworth Park that very morning and without so much as a single word, leaving her only a series of intractable directives in his dispassionately-worded letter.
If she’d had any tears left to shed she might have shed them, but alas she had cried herself out the night before. And so she sat there, dry-eyed, rocking slowly back and forth, wishing that there was something she could do to stop the heartbreaking anguish that wracked her body. But regrettably, unlike her tears, she could see no foreseeable end to the fierce, overwhelming pain that seemed to reach all the way to her very soul.
After a time, she cast a doleful glance toward the letter that lay on the floor beside the bed. He was sending her away, to a remote estate located somewhere along the sparsely-inhabited, southwestern coast of Cornwall, where she and her child, Gabriel’s child, would doubtless remain forgotten and unwanted, as if they didn’t even exist. Damn him, she thought in a sudden burst of anger, for not only had he denied her the opportunity to prove her innocence, but he hadn’t even allowed himself to consider that she was telling the truth about that night in Scotland and that the child she carried was in fact his child. Perhaps even worse, however, was realizing just how badly she had misjudged him; for during the past few months she had foolishly come to believe that he actually cared about her, and worse yet, that one day he might come to love her just as deeply and irrevocably as she loved him. But clearly she’d been wrong.
With a weary sigh she rose from the chaise and walked over to retrieve the letter from the floor. It was only a few seconds later, as she moved to place it into the drawer of her writing desk, that she happened to notice the small, square-shaped box sitting on the corner of the desktop. Where on earth had that come from, she wondered, eyeing the paper-wrapped package curiously? Setting the letter aside, she reached for the package, examining it for a moment before carefully removing the plain, brown-paper wrapping.
Once it was unwrapped, she was surprised to see that it was a beautiful, cherry wood, hand-painted music box with a small, white card resting on its top. Grasping the card between her fingertips, she lifted it from the box, turned it over and read the handwritten message. For my dear wife, for it seems that I am indeed the most fortunate of gentlemen. Gabriel. Stunned, Penny gazed at the card incredulously for several long moments, her thoughts whirling once again as she stared in disbelief upon the words Gabriel had written.
Then, setting the card onto the desk, she reached with trembling fingers to turn the brass key, rotating it several times before slowly lifting the lid. Inside, she discovered a beautifully-adorned couple perched upon a small gold post within the narrow, circular cutout of a large gold disk, posed as if they were in the midst of a waltz. And as the music began to play, they began to move, the pair spinning and twirling as they slowly circled the perimeter of the disk.
Watching the dancing couple with a sense of wonder, Penny was further astonished to realize that the music accompanying them was none other than Josef Lanner’s Mille Fleurs, the very same music that had been playing during her and Gabriel’s very first waltz at Gilchrist Castle. “Oh, Gabriel,” she whispered brokenly.
Retrieving the handwritten card from atop the desk, she read the words again, recalling as she did what he’d said to her that night. I shall consider myself the most fortunate of gentlemen, for it is said that a lady never forgets her first waltz or the gentleman who partnered her. Then, clutching the card tightly to her chest, she couldn’t help but wonder how many times a heart could break before it could no longer be pieced back together.
_____
Having arrived in Sunderland some three weeks earlier, Gabriel had joined Rafael and Michael at the small country property their grandfather had purchased decades earlier and had summarily converted into a hunting lodge. Near the Scottish border, the property was surrounded by woodlands flush with game birds, hares, roe, sika and fallow deer and the nearby lakes were plentiful with waterfowl, as well as a variety of fish including salmon, trout and grayling. And though he had always enjoyed the leisurely autumn months spent hunting and fishing in the surrounding area, since his arrival he’d spent far more time indoors than outdoors.
Even now, despite the pleasantness of the weather, he was seated in the house’s small study, staring pensively at the painted landscape hanging on the opposite wall, his hand curled around a brandy snifter instead of a shotgun or fishing rod, when a heavy knock sounded upon the door. “What is it?” he called, turning his gaze to the door.
As it swung open, it was Michael who entered the room. Taking in his brother’s haggard appearance, Michael shook his head derisibly as he pushed the door closed behind him. “No offense, Gabe, but you look like hell,” he said after a moment.
Gabriel uttered an audible “humph” and leaned back in his chair. “No offense taken,” he replied sardonically.
Walking forward, Michael dropped into one of the leather chairs fronting the large, seventeenth-century desk, casually stretching his booted legs out in front of him. “So tell me, brother, is it your intention to hole yourself up in here for the remainder of the season, filling your gullet with brandy and whiskey day in and day out?”
“And if it is?” Gabriel replied indifferently.
Michael shrugged. “Just seems like a rather senseless waste of time to me, especially considering this particularly fine weather we’ve been experiencing of late.”
“Thank you, your opinion has been duly noted,” Gabriel retorted with a disdainful expression. “Was there anything else?”
“Viscount Flitwick and his wife are hosting a get-together this weekend at their estate near Guildford.”
“And this concerns me how, exactly?”
“Rafe and I will be attending,” Michael informed him. “You should join us, Gabe. Get out of this house for a while. Hell, who knows, you might even enjoy yourself.”
“Since when did you and Rafe start socializing with Flitwicks?” he asked, eyeing his brother with only a marginal degree of interest.
Michael grinned. “You know Rafe’s penchant for tall, buxom blondes.”
“Lady Flitwick’s sister?”
“Indeed,” he confirmed. “Apparently the fair Mrs. Elcot is enjoying an extended stay with her sister at the Flitwick’s country home.”
Gabriel furrowed his brow. “I thought she’d rebuffed Rafael’s previous attempt to facilitate a liaison.”
&nb
sp; Michael chuckled. “She did. But he’s convinced that her initial rebuff was merely due to the fact that she’d only recently come out of mourning for her late husband. Though personally, I think the lady is simply playing hard to get.”
“Considering that Mrs. Elcot displayed not even the slightest hint of affection for her elderly, sour-tempered spouse prior to his death, I would tend to agree.”
“So, will you join us?” Michael prompted. “Or will you spend yet another weekend sitting in this house and wallowing in your misery?”
Gabriel scowled. “Who the hell says I’m miserable?”
Michael didn’t respond. Instead, he merely quirked one coffee-colored brow as he rose to his feet. “It’s a two hour coach ride to Guildford,” he said as he turned and made his way to the door. Then, calling out over his shoulder as he exited the room, he added, “We’ll be leaving tomorrow morning, right after breakfast.”
Glowering at the open doorway, Gabriel lifted the forgotten brandy snifter to his lips and drained the contents before setting the empty glass onto his desk. Damn it but Michael was right, for much as it pained him to admit it, he was miserable. He’d been miserable since the day he’d arrived, in fact, but instead of his mood improving with the passing of each week, it had only grown worse; and it was all her fault, damn her. Penelope, his lying, traitorous wife, the angelic-looking vixen who’d so cleverly managed to snare him in her despicably-laid trap those many months ago, was entirely to blame; for as he’d been wallowing in his misery, as Michael had so aptly put it, he’d come to the gut-wrenching realization that somehow he had allowed the wickedly-cunning enchantress to capture his heart as well. Of course, it was only fitting that he’d been forced to declare himself a fool yet again, as she’d then shattered it into a million pieces.
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