by Emma Sloane
Drawing a deep breath, Penelope slanted a quick glance at the Duke as he bowed and walked away, leaving her to accept a fortifying cup of tea from his mother. She stood for a moment, exchanging a few polite comments with the quartet of ladies, before Amelia joined the group. Her cousin’s presence steadied her even more and thankfully, it wasn’t long before the duchess announced she was retiring. Penelope and Amelia joined the throng of ladies, both young and old, who climbed the stairway to the bedrooms above.
Declining Amelia’s obvious desire to discuss the evening’s events, Penelope closed herself into her own bedroom. Her maid seemed to understand her wish for silence and within moments, had efficiently unbuttoned, unhooked and stripped off her gown, bundling her into her nightclothes with little comment. Offering a quiet good-night as Penelope settled into bed, Lucy left the room and she was alone at last.
No longer having a need to hold memory at bay, Penelope was flooded with recall. She’d kissed the Duke. Or, perhaps, he’d kissed her. Whichever it had been--and she was not entirely certain who had kissed whom--the brief contact had shaken her to her very bones.
Her late husband had performed his marital duty with no preliminaries. Despite having been a wife and no longer being a virgin, she’d never been properly kissed. Not until tonight.
When she’d emerged from mourning and rejoined society, she’d been forcibly kissed by several gentlemen who’d had too much to drink. They’d assumed her widow’s status meant that she must certainly be willing, even eager, to take a lover.
She was not.
Nevertheless, it had taken several severe set-downs before the gossips had tagged her a virtuous widow. After that, men generally left her alone, although she occasionally received an uncomfortably leering appraisal.
She’d never understood why other women were tempted into liaisons. There had been nothing about the three times her late-husband had executed his marital rights to make her think she would want to repeat the experience with any other man. She hadn’t grieved his death and felt a bit of guilt that she could not. To be fair, however, she’d hardly known him.
Perhaps that was why kissing the Duke had felt so very different? She felt she was getting to know the Duke more with each day and what she learned, she liked. He had a dry sense of humor that was very entertaining and he was kind, despite his denial of being so. And his family clearly adored him. Surely that counted for much as they knew him far better than ton gossips who claimed he was a sometimes ruthless and dangerous man?
Still, she doubted his kindness had stirred the physical response that had shocked her. That she badly wanted to repeat the experience defied understanding.
She found the situation completely confusing. Determinedly, she pulled the satin coverlet up over her shoulders and closed her eyes. Perhaps understanding would arrive in the morning, she thought, after I’ve slept.
Chapter 9
The guests took up the prospect of a sledding outing with enthusiasm and the following morning found a parade of sleighs climbing the curve of the hill behind the stables.
The older guests had chosen to stay at home, warm and comfortable, the ladies in the blue salon drinking tea, plying needles with their embroidery, and speculating about the Duke and Penelope. The gentlemen were established in the billiards room, pretending to read the latest London news sheet while dozing or challenging each other to a game.
Penelope was tucked into a sleigh beside the Duke, who wielded the reins with expertise as he urged the team of matched greys to greater efforts. The grey skies threatened snow, but her ermine trimmed pelisse, bonnet, gloves, and boots kept her snug and warm.
“Oh, look,” she exclaimed as they reached the crown of the hill. The footmen, commanded by the dignified butler, had arrived earlier and built a bonfire, setting out benches around it. A long trestle table, manned by two of the bundled-up footmen, held covered trays of food. “It’s a winter picnic! I’ve never been to one.” She glanced up at him, smiling approvingly. “This is so much better than my childhood jaunts in winter, towing my sled up the hill until I was frozen. I had to walk all the way back to the manor house to get a warm drink and a biscuit afterward.”
In the sleigh behind them, William and Matthew hooted with enthusiasm as they caught sight of the crowd of their friends pulling sleds toward the downward slope.
“It appears the boys are happy as well,” Gray returned her delighted smile with a wry grin. “We may never get them to go home.”
“Oh that’s easily enough done,” she advised him with a twinkle. “Tell your people to cart away the food. The boys will follow.”
He laughed outright. “I see you have a canny understanding of lads that age.”
“Nothing so easy as boys,” she said airily. “They’re very much like puppies. They must be fed large amounts of food, on a regular basis. Let them know the food is departing and they will certainly leave, as well, to follow it.”
“I suspect Maxson grasps this basic information and trust he will use it to good advantage when it’s time to return to the house. If not, we will remind him. Ah,” he said with satisfaction, pointing at a black and red empty sleigh as they drew near. “I see the Cavanaugh’s are here. You’ll like Lucas and Jane,” he told Penelope with a warm grin. “They’re neighbors, newlyweds, and the best of people.”
Gray drew the sleigh up next to a group of grooms. One of the stable boys immediately caught a bridle cheek strap and held the horses while a groom tossed blankets over the team’s steaming backs.
Penelope took Gray’s hand and he helped her alight, her boots crunching on the crisp snow.
“Gray!” A male voice rang through the chilly air.
“There’s Cavanaugh now,” Gray told her, giving her his arm to lead her forward.
The handsome couple walking toward them wore wide smiles. The petite blond woman’s blue eyes sparkled and the tall, darkhaired man at her side had an elegant style that spoke of an aristocratic lineage that was likely the equal of Gray’s.
“Lucas, how are you? I hoped you’d be able to join us today,” Gray said. The two men shook hands and he immediately turned to look down at Penelope. “Lady Penelope, let me make known to you my good friends, Lord Lucas Cavanaugh and his wife, Lady Jane Cavanaugh.”
“Delighted to meet you.” Penelope was rewarded by a bright, welcoming smile.
“It’s my pleasure, I assure you,” Lady Jane’s eyes lit with mischief and interest. “I’ve long wanted Gray to bring a lady to our Christmas festivities and at last, he has!”
Rather taken aback, Penelope cast a quick glance at Gray from beneath her lashes only to see him eyeing her with amusement. He lifted an eyebrow as if to tell her he couldn’t wait to hear her explanation as to why she was at Sheffield Park. She had a strong wish to box his ears. Vexatious man.
“Actually,” she said sweetly, “I was invited to Sheffield Park for the holidays by Lady Estebridge, who knew my mother. Apparently, unbeknownst to me, there is also a familial connection between the St. Cyrs and my family.”
“And you have just discovered you are relatives? But how wonderful,” Jane exclaimed. “I have no siblings and can claim only a small family but have been very fortunate, for Lucas’ family is quite large. It’s lovely to have a wider group to celebrate Christmas with.”
“Indeed, I am much the same, for my immediate family is quite limited.” Penelope smiled warmly at Jane’s sympathetic expression. “We’re delighted to be able to attend the St. Cyr gathering. Everyone has been so welcoming and kind.”
“Of course,” Jane agreed promptly. “As they should be. Now then, Penelope--may I call you Penelope, for I feel we must surely become great friends.”
“Please do,” Penelope readily acceded.
Jane stepped forward and slipped her arm through Penelope’s. “We’ll let the men sort out the sleds, for I do so want a sound one, don’t you? While they do that, would you like a hot drink? I’m quite parched and Lucas assured me that Gray
’s cook has prepared hot chocolate that’s not to be missed.”
“Hot chocolate would be most welcome.” Penelope exchanged a quick glance with the Duke, who gave her a reassuring nod, before she set off with Jane, who continued to quiz her about how she found the accommodations at the Park and if she would stay through Boxing Day.
By the time the two ladies had secured steaming mugs of hot chocolate and sipped the fortifying brew until their fingers and stomachs were well-warmed, the men had procured sleds and were drawing near, rope tows in hand.
The older boys and girls shrieked with excitement as they hurtled down the hillside’s packed snowy trail, while the footmen had happily been put to use taking the smaller children up on sleds. Penelope easily recognized William’s sturdy figure, despite his being bundled up in layers of clothing, and assumed the boy he was with was Matthew. Theodosia had joined she and Jane for a few moments before Val lured her away to a seat on his sled. Amelia had done the same before Hugh claimed her to partner him for a swift coast down the hill.
Lucas promptly removed Jane’s mug and caught her hand to tow her toward him, picking her up and plunking her down, giggling, on the front of his sled.
“Ten pounds says we coast farther than you, Gray,” he called back over his shoulder.
“You’ll lose!” He eyed Penelope’s mug. “Are you finished with that?”
She nodded. “I am,” she assured him as she returned it to the table.
“Good, let’s be off. I don’t plan to let Lucas win.”
“Surely you can afford to lose ten pounds,” she teased as she trudged after him through the snow.
“Of course,” he said in an offended tone. “It’s not the money, it’s the principle. We wager often and neither of us likes to lose.”
He stopped, holding out a hand. “I’m assuming you would prefer I don’t toss you onto the sled as Lucas so rudely did with Jane.”
It wasn’t really a question and Jane huffed out a laugh.
“I believe I’m perfectly capable of boarding the sled on my own, but if you’ll be so kind as to give me your hand until I’m seated?”
He did so with quick efficiency and towed her behind him on the sled almost to the lip of the downhill trail. When he settled behind her, the sled slid a bit and she gasped.
“Ready?” he asked.
She gripped the edge of the sled and nodded. “Yes!”
And with a push of his hands, they slid forward. The wooden sled teetered on the lip of the hill, hesitating for a moment before it tilted forward. And then they were rushing down the hill, coasting faster and faster, the wind of their speed tugging at Penelope’s bonnet strings and teasing tendrils of hair free.
Without warning, a sled careened into their pathway. Gray swore and steered aside to avoid colliding with it. Penelope shrieked as they veered to the left and immediately their smooth ride became bumpy and rough. They streaked into a small copse of trees, Gray deftly steering between them. One particularly rough patch caught the sled’s runner and the vehicle tilted, sliding out from under them.
Gray wrapped his arms around her and they rolled, Penelope tucked safely against his much bigger body, until they slowed and abruptly stopped. Gray lay half atop her, his arms still holding her tight. She stared up at him, trying to catch her breath, and then burst into laughter.
“Oh, my, that was exciting,” she exclaimed. “My heart is racing.”
“You’re not hurt?” he asked, a faint frown pleating his brow.
“No, not at all. Are you?” she asked, suddenly concerned.
“I’m fine.”
Their faces were only inches apart, their bodies pressed together from shoulder to hips. His eyes grew heated, his gaze softening as he studied her face.
“You look very fetching in this bonnet.” He flicked a finger against the bonnet ribbons tied in a jaunty bow just below her chin.
“Do I?” She asked softly, mesmerized by the light in his eyes as he watched her.
He brushed tendrils of hair from her cheek, tucking them carefully back beneath the ermine trim.
“Penelope,” he breathed, his hand cupping her face. “I would very much like to kiss you.”
Her heart stopped, then resumed its racing, thunderous beat.
She should say no. She knew she should say no. Propriety insisted she refuse him.
She couldn’t do it.
“Yes.” She barely breathed the word, anxious but determined.
He smiled, the quirk of his hard mouth turning his handsome face into devastating male beauty. His eyes grew heavy-lidded and he lowered his mouth to hers. Carefully, with tender care, he brushed warm kisses over the bow of her upper lip, the side of her mouth, and finally sealed his lips over hers.
For long moments, she was consumed by the heated pleasure of his lips over hers. All too soon, he lifted his mouth from hers to murmur, “I’m afraid we’ll have company soon.”
His gaze studied her and when she nodded in reluctant acceptance, he smiled and carefully lifted away from her.
His warning came none too soon, for barely had they located the sled some feet away and Gray declared it unharmed, than Lucas and two footmen arrived.
“No damage? You’re both perfectly well?” Lucas demanded, clearly worried.
“We are,” Gray replied. “No thanks to the errant sled. Who let it get away?”
“One of the little girls accidentally dropped the tow rope on her way back up the hill. She burst into tears when she realized it might have hit you. Jane is with her, consoling her, for the child is convinced she’s killed you.”
“We must go assure her that we are not, in fact, dead.” Gray held out a hand to Penelope, tucking her gloved fingers through the crook of his elbow. “Any other accidents? No one actually hit by the sled?” he asked Lucas as the three started up the hill, the footman following behind, pulling the sled by its tow rope.
“Not so far.” Lucas grinned at Gray. “But it’s early still.”
“You’re worse than the boys,” Gray told him with a laugh. “I’d prefer to have no scrapes or broken bones, Lucas.”
Penelope listened to the two tease each other as they climbed. She was happy they were focused on each other for she wasn’t certain she could offer sensible replies if called on. Whatever her questions and confusion last night, she was now perfectly certain about one thing. She definitely liked Grayson St. Cyr’s kisses. And she wanted more of them.
What that meant, beyond this moment, she didn’t know. But she was determined to explore the wild attraction.
Chapter 10
Despite the morning’s rigorous exercise, that evening after dinner the younger members of the party coaxed the dowager duchess into directing Maxson to throw open the doors to the adjoining salon and roll back the rugs. With one of the aunts at the pianoforte, Gray executed a sweeping bow before his mother and led her onto the polished floor. They made up one set of four couples moving through the graceful changes and patterns of the cotillion. When the music ended and the Eton boys called for a waltz, Lady Anne left the floor, laughingly exclaiming that she was too weary for greater exercise.
Gray left his mother seated with her sisters and approached Penelope. He swept a bow with precise courtesy and held out a hand.
“Will you favor me with a dance, Lady Penelope?”
“I will.” She hid a smile at his formality and slipped her hand into his.
They moved through the wide doors and into the next room with the other couples and when the music began, Gray slipped his arm around her waist and swept her into the dance.
They progressed down the room, turning with graceful, perfectly executed steps. Held secure in his arms, Penelope gave herself over to the sheer joy of the dance. When the music stopped, they were at the far end of the room and with a quick glance around, under cover of the chattering, milling throng, Gray pulled her through a doorway and out into the long hall beyond. A few steps further, he tugged her after him and into the lib
rary, lit only by the flickering flames in the fireplace.
“Gray, what…” she asked.
That was all she got out before he wrapped his arms around her and bent his head to take her mouth with his. She lost track of time as she gave in to pleasure, submerged in the heat and need that flowed between them. When he at last lifted his head, she murmured a protest. Realizing her arms were around his neck, she tried to tug him back again.
“We need to talk, sweetheart.” He brushed his thumb over the sensitive, faintly swollen lower curve of her lip. “If I kiss you again, I fear I’ll forget all about talking.”
“What can possibly be so important that we have to discuss it now?” she protested softly.
“Courtship,” he murmured, just as quietly.
She stiffened, frowning faintly. “Courtship?”
He brushed his mouth against hers and her lips followed, seeking further contact when he once again lifted his head to look down at her.
“I never liked Freddie Wentworth. In fact, I detested him from the moment I met him when we were boys. But since meeting you, I’ve realized that he was a bigger idiot than even I had imagined.” He cupped her face in one big hand before gently tucking a loose curl behind her ear. “You’re a woman who deserves to be courted, Penelope, and I don’t think Freddie bothered. His loss. As I said, he was an idiot and didn’t deserve you. I, however, treasure every beautiful inch of your body. I’ve never been in love before and never imagined I would ever be.”
Stunned, she could only stare up at him, mesmerized by the fierce light in his eyes.
“I know you don’t believe you are suited to marriage. I think you’re wrong. I plan to court you, my love, during these weeks at Sheffield, and longer if necessary. But be warned, I will do all in my power to convince you by Christmas to agree to wed me, for I have come to believe I cannot be happy without you. Will you give me a chance to change your mind?”
“You… you want to court me?” Convinced she must have misunderstood, Penelope needed confirmation that she wasn’t hallucinating.