by Cheryl Holt
“How was your marriage to Florence?” she brazenly inquired. It was a rude query, but she posed it anyway. “Was it as horrid as I predicted it would be?”
“I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.”
She snorted with amusement. “Don’t hold back on my account.”
“I will confess—only to you—that it was very dreary, but in light of my first disastrous leap into matrimony, I was desperate for dreary. I was determined to never suffer a minute of excitement ever again.”
“Did she ever forgive you for your elopement? I warned you that she wouldn’t.”
“No, she never forgave me, and she constantly apprised me—in quiet ways—that she was angry, but I fully deserved her ire.”
He’d been betrothed to Florence when he was a boy. She’d been raised, expecting to be his countess, but he’d run off with Amanda instead. Amanda had been a singer who’d burst onto the London stage where she’d tantalized all the eminent men of his generation. He’d been anxious to claim her before anyone else could.
She’d been deranged though. She’d possessed none of the skills required to succeed as a wife or a countess, and she’d had wild tendencies that had grown more pronounced after she’d birthed Little Henrietta.
They’d fought relentlessly, and she’d finally left him, after accusing him of being an abusive ogre. From Fish’s own experiences with him, she knew he wasn’t violent or abusive, but Amanda had been a lunatic who could have driven even the most docile spouse to lash out.
“Florence birthed you two children,” Fish said. “You must take some satisfaction from that.”
“Yes, a boy and a girl. My son, Warwick, is in the army at my request. He was exhibiting some of the traits I displayed when I was twenty.”
“Meaning what? He was consorting with actresses and other trollops?”
“Yes, but I shipped him off to a regiment so he couldn’t become completely debauched.”
“Lady Penny seems to have turned out all right.”
“So far, I haven’t noticed a single bad attribute in her. She’s been the easiest daughter any father could ever have sired.”
“I’m glad for you.”
“Tell me about your life,” he said. “Where have you been living? How have you been living. Did you ever wed? Before you respond, I must categorically state that I will be insanely jealous to hear that you did.”
She chuckled. “I never married.”
“May I hope—after falling in love with me—that no other fellow matched up?”
“No, you may not hope that. It was more along the lines of me learning how painful a broken heart could be and my vowing never to suffer one again.”
“I broke your heart? Really?”
“Yes, you arrogant oaf, and you know it too. Don’t pretend.”
“I’m enjoying this conversation more and more. Admit it. You’ve been pining away all these years.”
She rolled her eyes. “You are so full of yourself, and I don’t want to talk about me.”
“Why not?”
“Since we parted, nothing interesting ever happened. I realized I would never move into lead roles at the theater, so I reined in my dreams and built a place for myself behind the curtain.”
“Sewing for people like Miss Carstairs? Was it a good choice?”
She shrugged. “It was good enough.”
“Was there ever a beau who tickled your fancy after me?”
She could have told the truth and said no, but she wouldn’t stroke his ego, so she claimed, “I work in the theater, Charles, around actors and rich dandies. I had dozens of affairs after the one I had with you.”
He studied her, then scoffed. “You did not. Your face is still an open book to me. There haven’t been any.”
“There have been a few, and that’s all you need to know about it. And we’re finished discussing me.”
“For now,” he said like a threat. “I intend to dig out every detail of what’s occurred since I last saw you.”
“I already mentioned what they are: I stopped acting and became a costumer. I journey across the country, tagging after Libby and dressing her for her shows. That’s it.”
“You’re much too fascinating for that to be the whole story.”
He looked as if he’d start spewing a myriad of questions she’d refuse to answer. She didn’t like to focus on herself, on the paths that had never opened, on the men who were never worth it. She was forty and a spinster and that was the total sum of her biography.
She had Simon and Libby to care for, and she was relieved to have them, but as she took stock of where she currently stood, it didn’t seem like she’d come very far.
“We should talk about you,” she said. “It’s the topic you always relished the most.”
“I’m still the vain brute you frequently accused me of being. I can’t deny it.”
“Was there ever any news of Little Henrietta?”
“No, never a word.”
“Are you still searching for her?”
“Not anymore. I have acquaintances who travel in Europe, and they watch for Amanda, but there’s never been a sighting. She was such a flamboyant character; I’m sure she’d have popped up on a stage somewhere.”
“I’m sure too.”
“She never could have hidden herself away,” he said, “so I’ve had to accept that she and Henrietta met with a bad end.”
“They died?”
“I’m certain of it.”
“What a morbid comment. It proves you’ve spent too much time wallowing in the country with dullards like Florence. It makes me want to tarry so I can fill your head with positive thoughts.”
“I like the sound of that.” Suddenly, his gaze grew a tad more wolfish. “How long can you stay?”
“I’m here for two weeks—if Libby remains for the entire party.”
“She might leave?”
“Yes.” Lord Barrett’s presence at Roland was irritating Libby, so Fish couldn’t predict what she’d decide. “She’s been offered a lucrative contract in London,” Fish lied, “so we might have to return earlier than we planned.”
“I’ll have to convince her to delay. You only just arrived, and I’m not about to have you flit off immediately.”
“I probably shouldn’t have come.”
He stepped in so he was much closer than he should be. She put a palm on his chest to push him back, but he didn’t move.
“Why are you really at Roland?” he asked. “Please tell me it was because you were anxious to see me again.”
“It wasn’t that. I didn’t actually think you’d remember me.”
“Not remember you? Are you daft?”
“It would have been a huge blow to my ego, but I’d been bracing for that result.”
“Would you walk in the garden with me?” he inquired out of the blue.
“Why?”
“Why would you suppose? I’d like to get you alone and take advantage of you.”
“I’m forty.”
“Yes, and I’m forty-six, but we’re not dead.”
“Not yet anyway.”
“Let’s go. Let’s find a dark spot and misbehave. You can’t have forgotten how.”
He clasped her hand, ready to march off and expecting her to blithely follow him.
Men were such peculiar creatures. She hadn’t spoken to him in almost twenty years. They’d chatted for a few minutes, and he was prepared to philander. Why would he instantly figure she’d be interested?
She glanced out into the garden, and she had to admit his suggestion was tempting. She was one of those odd women who relished a man’s physical attentions, and in the past, he’d been remarkably adept at passionate sport. He probably still was.
Why not oblige him? Why not?
As th
e prospect raced through her head, she reminded herself why not: She had a tender heart that was easily broken. She’d learned to set her sights on cads like Harry, men who were born to be disappointments so—when they fled—nobody missed them, most especially herself.
If she dashed off to frolic with Charles, she’d be dragged right back into his life, and she couldn’t let it happen.
“Answer one question for me,” she said.
“If I can.”
“Are you intimately attached to your sister-in-law?”
He was aghast. “To Millicent? Gad, no. She simply lives with us. She came to us after Florence died, to help out. Her brother married and started a family, so she stayed on because she has nowhere else to go.”
“She has designs on you. Haven’t you noticed?”
“Don’t be absurd.”
“It’s plainly visible, but you’re a man so it wouldn’t have occurred to you.”
“She’s not sweet on me. She’s cared for the children and run the house. It kept me from having to wed for a third time. She’s glad to assist me.”
“Is she?” Fish smirked. “I doubt she’d like to discover that we’d snuck off to dally on a park bench.”
“It wouldn’t be any of her business.”
“If that’s what you think, then you’re still a fool.” She drew her hand from his and stepped away. “I better get inside. Libby will be looking for me.”
“Don’t abandon me. Not yet.”
“I’m sorry, but I have to.”
He smiled a delicious smile, and she was terrified he was about to beg her. She wasn’t sure she’d decline twice. She spun and hurried inside—before she could behave precisely as she shouldn’t.
Penny dawdled on the edge of the crowd surrounding Simon Falcon. He was performing magic tricks with a coin that had people gasping. He was so flamboyantly charming that it was difficult to not watch him.
He was slender and willowy, his body imbued with the grace of a dancer or an athlete, and he was incredibly handsome. His hair was blond, and his eyes blue, so he had the traits common to most any Englishman, but his hair was a golden blond, his eyes a dazzling blue. On him, the common traits were much more striking.
His hands were the most intriguing, moving with a casual air that was hypnotic. He talked constantly too, having an innate ability to keep the spectators laughing and listening.
She thought he was her same age of eighteen or perhaps he was a bit older than that, but he had a flair and confidence she would never have dared exhibit. She didn’t realize there were men who carried on so flagrantly, and his antics had her wishing she could carry on flagrantly too.
He’d been twirling a coin, then it vanished, and he held up his palms to prove it wasn’t there.
“Where is it?” he asked, then he turned to Penny and said, “Oh! I believe I see it!”
He walked over to her and brushed his fingers under her hair to caress her ear. The bold advance was audacious, and she should have been incensed that he’d touched her, but when he pulled his hand away, the coin had reappeared.
“Lady Penny!” he said. “You’re such a scamp. Why were you hiding it from us?”
He displayed it for everyone, and the observers clapped and patted him on the back. Several of them patted Penny on the back too, as if she’d been his assistant. He winked at her, and for just an instant, it seemed as if Time stood still. Sounds faded away, and there was only dashing, brazen Simon Falcon.
“More! More!” the crowd urged. “Show us another!”
He shrugged them off, but in an affable way. “I can’t show you all my tricks at once. You’ll stop thinking I’m interesting.”
People chuckled at that, and he sauntered away. She tried to ignore him as he left the room, but she couldn’t conceal her piqued attention. But then, all the young ladies were furtively peeking at him.
She tarried where she was until she felt she could wander off without others assuming she was following him, but she definitely was. When she finally found him, he was in a different parlor and over by the doors that led onto the verandah. He was posed there, as if he’d been waiting for her.
He noted her immediately, and he nodded pompously, as if she’d behaved exactly as he’d been expecting.
He grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, then went outside, providing a clear invitation that she should accompany him. She hesitated for a minute, then a minute more, and she couldn’t resist any longer than that.
Initially, she couldn’t see him anywhere. She rushed over to the balustrade, and he was out in the grass, standing under a lantern, and he motioned for her to come down.
She recognized that she was perched on the edge of a significant ethical cliff. It would be wrong to go to him. He would escort her farther into the garden. They would find a secluded spot and . . . what?
Probably kiss, but she was so naïve that she couldn’t guess with any certainty if that was what he planned.
At school, she and her classmates had spent untold hours, fantasizing about the husbands they would eventually have. They’d been determined to be swept off their feet by Prince Charming. In reality, they’d all been high-born heiresses who were destined to wed whomever their fathers picked. The man could be old or fat or horrid, and they’d have no say in the matter.
Their marriages would be contracted to make their fathers and husbands richer, to spur the united families to new heights of power and influence. Passion and love were irrelevant, but frivolous girls could always dream.
Her father was hosting her party for Luke, in the hopes that—at the conclusion—Luke would be so enamored of Penny that he would propose. Luke wasn’t the worst choice. He was handsome in a dark, severe manner, and he was calm and courteous. With his wealth and title, he was the biggest catch in the Marriage Market.
For the next two weeks, if Penny acted like the appealing, pretty girl she was, she could win him with very little effort. But did she really want him?
He was so old—twelve years older than she was!—and almost as old as her father. He was very much like her father too: stern in his attitudes, strict in his habits, and morally inclined in every situation.
Because his deceased brother had been a wastrel, he shared her father’s same zeal for quiet living and modest conduct. He wasn’t the type who would entertain a rapt crowd with his exploits. He would never deliberately make himself the center of attention.
Mr. Falcon gestured again, and he raised a brow in question. Was she coming or not?
He was able to read her mind, was able to understand how conflicted she was. If she took a step into the garden, she’d be crossing a line she shouldn’t cross. Then he smiled, sending her the distinct message that she’d be glad afterward.
She glanced over her shoulder, but no one was watching, and she practically ran to him. He extended his hand and clasped hold of hers. They dashed off together, heading deeper into the shadows, and they were laughing like naughty schoolchildren who’d gotten away with mischief.
They kept on until the noise from the manor faded behind them, then he guided her off the path and led her into the trees. Without asking, without furnishing her with a chance to decide what she’d like to have happen, he dipped down and kissed her. She was so astonished that, without hesitating, she kissed him back.
It was her very first kiss, but it wasn’t awkward or strange. She joined in with incredible relish, and it seemed as if she had quite a knack for it. Or perhaps he was simply so good at it that he made it easy for her to participate.
The embrace went on forever, with neither of them disposed to call a halt. How long had she stolen away? Would she have been missed? By her Aunt Millicent most likely. If her aunt interrogated her about her absence, what excuse could she give?
Finally, he was the one to end it. He drew away and gazed down at her, his ex
pression tender and intense. She’d never had a man look at her as he was looking, as if she was amazing and he couldn’t live without her.
Luke—her possible fiancé—had definitely never looked at her like that. In fact, he barely noticed her at all. Whenever he deigned to speak to her, he was unfailingly polite to the point of dullness. So far, he hadn’t evinced by the slightest word or deed that he found her to be exceptional. She definitely couldn’t picture him dragging her into the garden for a torrid kiss.
They were mostly strangers, and it would never have occurred to him that she might like him to exhibit a bit of passionate interest. She, herself, hadn’t realized she’d been hoping for it, and now that she’d dallied with Mr. Falcon, how would she ever view Luke as she had previously?
Her father had insisted Luke would be the perfect husband for her, and she hadn’t doubted him. She’d accepted his opinion, as she accepted all of them. On a topic as important as matrimony, surely he knew best.
A match between them would be about land and money, but clearly, there were facets to a male-female relationship that she hadn’t considered. She felt as if Mr. Falcon had opened a door that only adults could peer through, and suddenly, she was asking herself this question: Why would she settle for a boring, aristocratic marriage?
She was shocked to have asked it. How could a few desperate kisses have rattled her thought processes to such a stunning degree?
“You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” he murmured.
She was used to those sorts of compliments. “Thank you.”
“I was positive you’d follow me out here.”
“How could you have been? I wasn’t certain myself.”
“Sparks fly when you’re near, so it indicates that the universe approves.”
“Approves of what?”
“Of our being together, silly. I want to spend all my time with you. When can you get away?”
“To do what?”
He grinned a cocky grin. “I’ll show you once we’re alone.”
“You’re too vain by half.”
“Yes, I always have been.” He delivered another rousing kiss. “Where is your bedchamber located? I could sneak in later.”