Bewitched

by Melissa Lynne Blue

John whipped a silencing hand through the air. “Quiet.” To Simon he continued gently. “Who is Mr. Jeffries?”

  “Our landlord.”

  “I see.” John stood then, facing Lord Landon. “With your permission, Sir, I’d like to handle this matter myself.”

  “By all means.” The earl swept an arm toward the door.

  “Are you certain that’s wise, milord?” Holbrook said under his breath.

  “Of course!” The earl boomed—it seemed the jovial man did nothing quiet or small. “I have the utmost faith in Major Breckenridge.” He gave John an approving nod. “Do let me know how things turn out.”

  “Certainly, Sir.”

  Simon’s face lit up. “You’re a soldier?”

  “I am,” John stated, granting the lad a smile.

  “My pa was a solider.”

  “Oh? And where is he now?”

  “Dead. Lung fever last winter.”

  John digested the information, his heart going out to the little scamp.

  Penelope reached for Simon’s small hand. “In the future, Simon, please tell us if you’re having troubles. At the very least tell me.”

  Simon nodded gravely. “Yes, milady.”

  John and Penelope’s gazes locked. Worry laced Penelope’s pretty face.

  John winked at her. “Not to worry. I’ll take care of him.” He put an arm around Simon’s shoulders and steered the boy toward the door. “Now, young man, tell me more about this Mr. Jeffries.”

  * * *

  John’s wink fluttered through Penelope from the tips of her ears clear down to her toes—taking an extra twirl around her heart. Good heavens! What was it about the man that set her completely on edge and at ease at the same time?

  “Lady Penelope?” Colonel Holbrook’s voice startled her from her thoughts, pulling her back to the reality of his visit. “I realize the afternoon has taken a rather strange turn, but might I beg a moment of your time anyhow?”

  Penelope closed her eyes and drew a deep breath before facing the colonel and her uncle. She had no desire to see this particular interview through, but there was no use in prolonging the inevitable. “Certainly, Colonel. Right this way please.” She led the way into the parlor, trying not to dwell on the passionate kiss she and John had shared just minutes ago. She sat on a cushioned chair and indicated for Holbrook to do the same. He remained standing.

  “Lady Penelope, I’m sure this meeting comes as no great surprise to you. I have made my intentions toward you clear, and your uncle has given consent.” He hesitated coming to stand directly in front of her and then taking a knee. “Would you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”

  Penelope gulped, gazing down into Colonel Holbrook’s eyes. The same soft blue she’d smiled into when they’d danced or conversed at parties. In their limited acquaintance she’d believed him a kindly sort of man, but in the last few days she’d seen flaws in his character. Cheating and lack of charity toward the needy to name two.

  “Colonel, I am honored by your proposal, as well as flattered, however—”

  “Before you go on,” Holbrook interrupted, quickly standing. “I would point out that you received no marriage offers after this last season. One might speculate it was a direct result of the spectacle your father made in the House of Lords last session.” He speared her with a pointed look, the sort a hunter might give a cornered fox. “Future offers may not be forthcoming.”

  Penelope stiffened. “I’m sure I don’t need to be reminded. Thank you for the compliment of requesting my hand. I will require a few days to consider.”

  Holbrook inclined his head, adopting a gracious air and easy smile. He clapped a palm over his chest. “I look forward to your answer, Lady Penelope, and all that shall follow.”

  The man’s self-assurance nauseated her. Did he truly believe she had no better prospects than to accept a man who’d insulted her point blank? A vision of her father, out of his mind with melancholy drifted through her memory. He’d made a royal fool of himself last summer. He was considerably better now, but perhaps she didn’t have any better options.

  Colonel Holbrook vacated the room and Penelope dropped her head into her hands, massaging her temples. A sinking feeling settled in her stomach. She needed to think. After a moment she straightened. First, however, she needed to speak with her uncle about Simon. That boy’s family definitely needed help.

  Bewitched

  Ten

  John stood on the street corner in one of the working class districts of London later that afternoon.

  An oversized livery wagon pulled by two dapple-gray steeds rattled down the muddy, half-frozen street. People bundled in heavy wool hurried along the sidewalks, rushing in and out of buildings, going about their daily business. The smell of fresh bread rolled from a well-maintained, albeit shabby, inn. Through the window he spied the pale face of Simon’s mother, Mrs. Carlson, seated at a table with his three younger brothers. John had set them up with a hot hearty meal, and arrangements for a warm, dry room until more permanent arrangements could be made.

  “Mr. Jeffries is in there?” John pointed to the main door of the run down rooming house Mrs. Carlson and her children had been relegated to.

  Simon nodded.

  John twisted the emerald family ring off his little finger. He handed the piece to Simon. “You give this to Jeffries just like we discussed, all right?”

  “I will, milord.” The boy took the ring and darted across the street. John followed at a more leisurely pace. Through the window he spied Simon approaching the wooden counter. A man of middling years stepped out and stooped over the lad. No doubt Mr. Jeffries.

  Simon handed the man the ring.

  Jeffries’ round face reddened with rage. “You only brought back one bloomin’ piece? Yer mother will pay fer this.” He grabbed the boy’s coat and closed his fist around the ring, raising it over his head with malicious intent.

  Simon flinched hard.

  John threw the door open with a violent crash. Jeffries startled, losing his grasp on Simon’s shirt. Simon quickly darted behind John, panic and relief lining his little face. The low burning anger within John roared to life. He had no patience or empathy for those who would use or abuse children.

  Jeffries gulped, raking a nervous glare over John. “Wh-who are you?” he asked, obviously unused to ranking gentleman in his rooming house.

  “Someone with little use for thieves.” John stormed into the lobby, closing in on Jeffries. An ivory handled letter opener with an elephant carved in the handle winked from the counter. John’s frown deepened. “And you’ve stolen from some very good friends of mine.”

  “N-not I. Th-the boy.” Jeffries scrambled backward, dropping John’s ring to the floor.

  Stepping over the ring, John snared the worn ascot around Jeffries’s neck and dragged the fiend to within an inch of his face. “I know all about how you’ve used this lad and lorded his mother’s poor health over him.”

  Jeffries gulped. Dread pooled in his gray eyes.

  “What have you done with the stolen belongings?”

  “M-most of it’s s-sold,” he stammered. “But there are a few things still locked up in me office.”

  “Good.” John released his collar. “The magistrate will be very interested to see that.”

  “If you go to the magistrate the imp will be arrested as well,” Jeffries threatened, voice wrought with desperation.

  John pierced him with a silencing glare. “Not if I have anything to say about it.” He swiped the letter opener from the countertop and turned back to Simon. John stopped short as he came face to face with Penelope.

  * * *

  Penelope stood between her uncle and Simon, staring at John with a combination of shock and pride. Warm tingles floated through her veins and sailed straight to her heart. Who would have imagined he’d go to such length to help this boy.

  John appeared equally stunned to see her. “What are you doing here?”

  Penelope opened
her mouth to reply, but her uncle spoke first. “My niece insisted we see after the welfare of Simon’s family. Wouldn’t let me alone until I ordered up the carriage.”

  The ghost of a smile tugged at John’s lips as his gaze fell warm upon her. A twinkle of wonder lit his eye. “Did she now?”

  Their eyes locked across the small room. Bonded. Penelope’s breath caught. Something in John’s eyes—warmth… tenderness… affection… shivered through her. And yet it was more than that. Stronger. Trapped in his eyes, a wealth of emotions stirred within her. She trembled again. Throat dry. What did it mean? Not even Colton had inspired such a powerful reaction, and she’d fancied herself in love with him.

  Love.

  Could this be… love?

  Impossible. She’d only just met John. And yet… Once again she sensed herself sinking deeper into the dark oblivion of his beautiful eyes. She knew him on an intimate, soulful level. What she felt for John stemmed far deeper than anything she’d experienced with Colton. She blinked, drawing a sharp breath, reining in her thoughts. What did she know of intimacy? Memory of his betrayal just that afternoon—his being bribed to court her—flashed through her mind, sparking her back to reality. Penelope jerked her head to the side, severing the link of their eyes. Obviously she had no idea what real love entailed.

  “Lady Penelope,” Simon exclaimed, his youthful face glowing with excitement. “You’ll never believe what Lord John has done for us.”

  * * *

  An hour later, Mr. Jeffries was in the hands of the magistrate, and Simon had been returned to his family. Mrs. Carlson proved tearfully grateful for the food, better living arrangements, and the promise of medical care provided by the Duke of Havenward’s personal physician. John and Penelope’s uncle also promised to be in touch about a job once Mrs. Carlson’s health improved.

  Outside the inn, John knelt to the boy’s eye level. “Remember, Simon, you can always ask Lord Landon or me for help if you need it.”

  “I will, Sir.”

  “That’s a boy.” John ruffled the lad’s hair as he stood.

  Unexpected warmth suffused Penelope as she watched John interact so tenderly with the child. Confused, she spun away and hurried to her uncle’s coach, reminding herself that John had no interest in finding a wife. Penelope knew this well. Kate had spoken with Mrs. Turner who knew every detail of the scandal surrounding John’s first marriage. Penelope had no desire to further entangle her emotions with another unattainable man.

  “Lady Penelope!” John’s call sent sharp tremors shooting through her.

  Penelope stopped short, not wishing to make a scene or heighten her uncle’s suspicions. She squeezed her eyes shut, drew a ragged breath and then turned to face John.

  “Penelope,” he repeated softly, expression gruff and troubled. A flicker of hope lit within her. “Could I beg a moment to apologize for my deplorable behavior?” He hesitated. “My intent was never to cause you harm.”

  Penelope sighed, disappointment settling in her breast. She didn’t know what she’d expected for him to say or do. Drop to a knee and profess to love her? Beg her hand in marriage? No. Penelope was quickly coming to realize just how fanciful the prospect of finding love was. The poets lied. Love was for a select few and the rest of mankind must simply make do. Humiliation set back in. How silly she’d been to believe in that love potion.

  “There is no need to concern yourself with my feelings, my lord. Thank you for helping Simon’s family.” She lifted her skirts and turned to the waiting carriage. Briefly she hesitated, half turning back to him. “I’ll ask you not to call on me again. Goodbye.”

  * * *

  Fed up with lies and petty insecurities, John marched through the snow to Colton’s club. He could not banish Penelope’s broken expression from his mind. Whatever she claimed, he’d hurt her. Colton’s butler had informed John that the duke would likely dine at Townsends and then play cards late into the night. John was not inclined to wait for Colton’s return.

  “Lord John,” the door attendant said. “Might I…”

  “No.” John cut the servant off. “Where is my brother?”

  The attendant blinked, momentarily flustered. “Th-the duke is in the back, milord.”

  With a curt nod, John strode deeper into the establishment, gaze fixed forward to avoid any unwanted greeting or conversations. He wasn’t in the mood. Within moments he spotted Colton’s dark head. He sat at a table with two other gentlemen John didn’t readily recognize.

  Colt glanced up and grinned. “John. Would you care to join us?” He motioned to one of the open chairs.

  “It’s done,” John stated without preamble, fixing his brother with a steel gilded glare. “Keep your bloody urn. Penelope knows of the ruse.”

  Colton’s jovial expression faltered. He shot to his feet and jerked his head toward an open doorway. He stomped into the abandoned hallway.

  John quickly followed.

  Colt whirled, eyes flashing. “What do you mean she knows?”

  John sighed. He didn’t wish to delve into the tale of fairytale love potions and Gypsy hokum. “I told her. I know what it is to be toyed with, and she needed to know before we hurt her any further.”

  “Hurt her? How would she be hurt? You were supposed to call on her a few times and make her feel special.”

  “And then what?” John demanded. “Was I supposed to simply drop the chit without a word?”

  Colton raked a palm through his hair, frustrated. “I suppose I hadn’t considered that.”

  “That’s the problem, Colt. You never plan ahead.” John hesitated. “Or did you believe no girl would be interested in me?”

  Sheepish, Colton met John’s gaze. “Perhaps.”

  “Regardless,” John said, pushing the subject forward, “she knows you put me up to it, and we did hurt her feelings.” Guilt seized John’s heart. Guilt and a few other rusty emotions he’d nearly forgotten existed. “Are you ready to explain fully what this whole charade was about?”

  For a second, Colton’s staid expression faltered. He looked haunted. In the blink of an eye, the vulnerability evaporated, and he stubbornly set his jaw. “Leave it alone, Johnny. You are no longer involved.”

  Bewitched

  Eleven

  “My, you had some excitement while the girls and I were out!” Aunt Laura exclaimed, breezing into Penelope’s bedroom that evening. Kate and Marie rushed in behind her.

  “Oh, yes.” Penelope quickly sat up, resting the book she’d been attempting to read on the blue and green coverlet. “I never would have guessed little Simon had been stealing from us.”

  “Yes, yes, George told me all about that.” Aunt Laura waved dismissively. “But Colonel Holbrook proposed. Penelope, that is wonderful! Everything we’ve hoped for.”

  Penelope’s heart sank and she glanced down at her hands, folding them nervously in her lap.

  Kate and Marie sat on either side of her. Kate reached over and clasped Penelope’s hands. “Do you want to marry Colonel Holbrook?”

  Penelope looked up, meeting her cousin’s worried gaze. She opened her mouth to reply, but no words came readily to her lips. All afternoon she’d tried to picture herself as Colonel Holbrook’s wife. Standing at his side, sharing his bed, being his partner in life, but all she could see was John.

  John set fire to her blood.

  The memory of John’s hands made her hungry for more while the mere thought of Colonel Holbrook’s intimate touch turned her stomach. “I… I don’t know,” she whispered, afraid to look at her aunt.

  Penelope knew she could not rely on the generosity of her aunt and uncle forever. They would never turn her out, but being responsible for three girls out in society was exhausting, and marriage offers weren’t exactly pouring in for Penelope.

  “Kate, Marie, leave Penelope and I to a moment alone.”

  For once the twins did not argue with their mother and filed slowly from the room after giving Penelope encouraging hugs.

>   Laura sighed, perching on the mattress beside Penelope. “I know you were hoping for a love match,” she said after a long moment. “When I was your age, I was much the same.”

  Penelope glanced into her aunt’s kind eyes.

  “My marriage to your uncle was arranged by my parents, and I was terribly disappointed at the time.” A small, wistful smile quirked Laura’s lips. “I had grand ideas of meeting a dashing gentleman and falling madly in love.”

  “Not an uncommon dream,” Penelope said.

  “No.” Aunt Laura turned to Penelope with a warm grin. “And I found that love, Penelope. Not in the way I would have expected, however. It took time, and work, but I fell in love with the very man I married.”

  Penelope gulped. While her aunt’s words were meant to be comforting, she could not shed a sense of suffocating panic.

  “What of Lord John? Do you have reason to believe he might propose?”

  Penelope’s heart twisted. “No.”

  The pair lapsed into a companionable silence.

  “Well, there is no need to give the colonel an answer immediately. It is often best to make men wait a bit.” Laura winked conspiratorially. “Come, it is time to dress for Lady St. John’s dinner party.

  Penelope stifled a groan. The last thing she wanted was to attend another simpering party. Heaven help her if Colton, John or Colonel Holbrook attended. If she didn’t see any of them for another fifty years it would be too soon.

  “I know you didn’t feel up to shopping this afternoon, but I found you the most beautiful ribbon,” Laura chattered on. “And I think a bit of distraction will be good for you. I’ll send the girls in. You can all prepare together.”

  * * *

  Heaven, apparently, was not on Penelope’s side that evening. While it didn’t appear Lord John or Colonel Holbrook was in attendance, she spotted Colton almost immediately. Humiliation burned in her cheeks. She spun quickly to avoid his notice, and ducked into a corner beside a large potted plant. She’d been lagging far enough behind Marie and Kate that neither of the twins noticed her quick withdrawal.