by Ivory Lei
Her stepfather scowled back. “I see.”
He tossed her dressing gown to the bed and averted his gaze as she put it on. “As I recall, you and the earl said you needed time to get to know each other before deciding to get married. Have you decided yet?”
She opened her mouth to speak, but Papa waylaid her with a wave of his hand. “You shouldn’t play games with a man’s life, Penelope. I taught you better than that.”
“What do you mean?”
“The earl has estates to run, tenants who depend on him and a sister who needs him. Yet you keep him here for an entire week to wait for you to make a decision.” He shook his head. “I thought it was a sound idea. It would help us get to know your future husband better.”
He put his hands on his hips. “But to be honest, I didn’t think you’d keep him dangling this long. There’s not much more to find out from spending time with a man for a week that you can’t learn in three days.”
She watched Papa sit by her writing desk as shame poured through her. Lucas’s words after she’d accidentally shot him drifted through her mind: Enough of these games.
She buried her face in her hands. “I’m scared, Papa. I’ve been avoiding making a decision because — ”
“I believe you’ve already made a decision. I’ve seen you interact with him, and I believe it is a sound match. He’s a good man.”
“I know he is, Papa, but … ” She faced her stepfather, letting him see her turmoil. “I’ve seen what an arranged marriage can be like. Mama married my father out of duty, and she wasn’t happy because she loved you. What would’ve happened to us if you’d been married when my father died and Uncle Hugh cast us out?”
“I never would’ve married anyone other than your mother,” Papa said quietly. “And if your mother hadn’t married Edmund Maitland, you wouldn’t be here.”
“Well, when you put it that way … ”
“Stop worrying about what happened or what could have happened in the past, Polly. You can do naught about it anymore.”
He walked over to put his hand on her shoulder. “What matters is the present,” he reminded her. “Either marry the earl or release him from the betrothal. But make the decision, child, because if you wait too long, you will lose your chance. Then it will no longer be your decision to make.” His gray brows rose. “The earl can’t stay here forever.”
What else could she say? She’d convinced herself she deserved to have him for a while longer after waiting for him all those years, but Papa was right. She was being a coward, and she could not keep delaying her decision any longer. “I’ll talk to Lord Ravenstone today.”
“Good. Now eat your breakfast.” He turned to leave. “Oh, and Polly?”
“Yes, Papa?”
“When you talk to the earl, make sure you give him back his coat.”
Her stepfather left the room, closing the door just as her bewildered gaze bounced to Lucas’s coat lying in a crumpled heap of blue by the side of her bed. The same coat he’d taken off last night when they’d been … She groaned and buried her face on her pillow. She had run out of time. Her “affair” was now over, before it even had a chance to fully begin.
Oh, she was going to give Lucas his coat, all right. And then she was going to kill him.
• • •
What the hell did she want from him?
Lucas hurled the book he’d been trying to read across the room in disgust. The blasted woman wouldn’t even let him read! And he’d thought this whole damned thing would be easy.
He had to get out of here. This courtship nonsense of his own fiancée was just that. Nonsense. He was done playing her games.
He had never been much for courtship anyway — he preferred women who were content with the promise of jewels and gowns and who were as uninterested in messy, emotional complications as he was.
But this woman! This woman made him jump through hoops, and still she wouldn’t give him the answer he sought. He was running out of time.
What more did she want from him? He’d come to this remote town to make her his countess, he’d ingratiated himself with her family, he’d played the perfect gentleman, he’d pleasured her … Lucas groaned and reached for his cravat, turned to the mirror and proceeded to tie it into intricate knots as he got ready to tutor the woman’s little brother.
I can’t take much more of this.
It had taken all of his control to leave her bed last night. If that weren’t enough, he’d spent the rest of the evening reliving each moment she’d spent in his arms, remembering the arousing sounds she’d made, the scent of her, how wet and warm she’d become for him, the way she’d looked as she found fulfillment. He felt himself harden and cursed roundly.
He would not allow any woman to lead him around by his bollocks. That’s how it began … if he were wise, he’d leave now and find some other bride before he ended up like Father. Or worse, he might end up like his mother.
He finished tying his cravat and turned away from the mirror. I am nothing like Mother! And he certainly wouldn’t allow himself to care for any woman and give her the power to destroy him. That was the most important lesson he’d learned from Leonard Drake.
Lucas raked his hand through his hair in frustration. He ought to strip the woman bare, have his way with her and go straight to her stepfather. He’d fantasized about bedding her so many times it was amazing he hadn’t gone blind. He’d never had a problem with controlling his urges before.
What was it about this woman, who most people would consider to be plain, that fascinated him to the point of obsession? Her beauty lay in the details one had to notice to appreciate. The delicate, graceful hands that healed with a gentle touch, the smooth complexion despite hours spent under the sun, those haunting hazel eyes and the floral and sunshine scent of her. He was a man who’d been trained from an early age to look at details, and the details in this woman were driving him insane. If his actions last night did not produce the results he wanted, he was likely to have his first temper tantrum in his adult life.
He took a deep, calming breath. “I need a drink!”
“I agree. Which type?”
He whirled to find Penelope watching him from the doorway. “We use alcohol for mixing medicines, so I’m certain we’ll be able to find whatever drink you need,” she added.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Her eyes widened at his tone. “Did you just snarl at me?” She shook her head in derision. “I should have known you’d be a bear in the morning. You look awful.”
“Thank you,” he replied through gritted teeth. “If you have nothing more to say, I suggest you get out of this room if you know what’s good for you.”
“Oh, I think you’d want me to stay.”
“And why is that?”
“I’ve come to discuss terms. Of our marriage.”
Just like that, his black mood lifted. He stared at her, unable to believe his ears. “You’re marrying me?”
“If we can agree to terms.”
Of course. He should have known she would want to bargain. The woman still had to learn how to give in graciously. “Very well.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “State your terms.” This should be interesting.
She strode to the fireplace and started stoking the fire with a poker. “Ummm … first of all — ”
“Penelope?”
“Yes?” she squeaked.
“Let go of the poker, sweetheart, and sit down.”
She stiffened. “I don’t need to sit down. This shouldn’t take long,” she protested, but she put the poker down.
Lucas almost smiled. She was so transparent. “What are your terms?” he asked in the same tone he used to soothe a skittish mare.
She finally looked at him. “First, Nelson will have to come with
me.” She smiled apologetically. “He has become attached, and I will not break the dog’s heart by leaving him here.”
“Agreed.”
Her eyes widened. “And … and Gertie must have a retirement cottage of her own.” Then, as if realizing the boldness of her demands, she hastily added, “It doesn’t have to be grand, of course.”
“Of course.” He crossed the room and joined her where she stood by the fireplace. “Anything else?”
She took a deep breath. “Well, I did notice you like ordering people about. You shall not order me about.”
“I don’t think you would ever let anyone order you about.”
“That’s true,” she agreed. “To be honest, I thought that was going to be our main problem.”
He chuckled. “And are those all your terms?”
He wanted this over with quickly and finally have her saying her vows on the aisle, but from the look on her face, he knew they’d only just begun.
• • •
Penelope stared at him. He was agreeing to all her terms … and far too readily. It made her want to find out exactly how far he’d go for duty and his dratted honor. “I want Colin to go back to school.”
“Done.”
“And for Sarah to have a London Season.”
“Agreed.”
She was beginning to enjoy this. Hmmm … what else? “My family can visit us whenever they want.”
His brows rose as he stepped closer to her. “Whenever they need.”
“Yes, and … you will shelter any animal that needs a home.” When his brows knotted, she clarified, “I mean, if possible.”
“If possible.”
“And you shall not have a mistress!” Good grief, where did that come from?
“I will be faithful,” he vowed.
That gave her pause. “Really?”
“Yes.”
That was unexpected. She knew noblemen usually kept mistresses. It was common knowledge that even her own father had died with his. “I see. Then, I will be faithful, too.”
“I expect nothing less. Is there anything else you want?”
She bit her lip. Did she dare? Well, why not? “And I want ten thousand pounds.”
He cupped her face in his large hands and lowered his mouth to hers. “So would I,” he murmured against her lips, calling her bluff.
She gasped. “You devil! You knew all along — ”
Lucas cut off the rest of her words with his mouth as he gave her a deliciously thorough kiss. She sagged against him when he finally lifted his mouth from hers, her arms wrapped around the waist of the man she loved.
As Penelope stood there in his arms, she contemplated this momentous occasion. True, it lacked the flowery prose and grand speech that little girls dreamed of the moment when their future was sealed with the man who was to be their husband, but then, she’d never done anything the traditional way. She doubted many would-be-brides barged into their betrothed’s chamber and bargained terms like a merchant.
And this was why she loved Lucas. Ever since they’d met, he’d accepted her for what she was, with all her faults and limitations. She wasn’t blessed with looks, money or any sort of position in Society, and yet he’d come for her. After a lifetime of being ignored or merely thought of as useful, she was finally being seen and appreciated for nothing more than being herself. He’d been the man of her dreams all her life, and he was now hers.
He didn’t love her, but he seemed to genuinely want her. With this man, she could be herself without fear of disappointing him. For now, that was enough.
It had to be.
She laid her cheek against his hard chest and savored the intimacy of the moment as they stood there, holding each other. After several minutes, Lucas pressed a kiss against her hair.
“Penelope?”
“Hmmm?”
“What made you finally decide to marry me?”
She glowered at him. “Papa found your coat. You left it in my room last night.”
His eyes widened. Then he released great gusts of mirth, his massive shoulders shaking with laughter.
“It’s not funny!” She pummeled his chest.
Lucas caught her wrists and held them together behind her, holding her against his large frame while his whole body continued to quake with laughter. “I suppose we’ll have to talk to your stepfather. I’ve clearly overstayed my welcome here.”
She pouted. “Yes. He’s waiting in the study.”
He gave her another fierce kiss. Then he held her hand and tugged her along with him as he strode out of the room. “I always knew I liked your stepfather.”
• • •
The meeting had to wait until the afternoon because Penelope’s stepfather was called out to attend to one of the villagers who’d had an accident on his farm. When Dr. Walker returned, Lucas was summoned to the library for the discussion of marriage settlements.
“Please sit down, Ravenstone,” his future father-in-law said, gesturing to the rose-colored settee.
As soon as he had taken a seat, Dr. Walker launched into the many reasons Penelope did not have a dowry to speak of.
Lucas waved the explanations off, stating once again that he did not require his bride to have a dowry. He then explained the terms of the bargain he and Penelope made earlier in the day. With each word, Dr. Walker’s eyes widened until Lucas feared they would pop out of the poor man’s head.
“She told you not to have a mistress?”
“Yes,” he confirmed. “Penelope can be quite forthright in her demands.”
“She can be that,” Dr. Walker averred. “I must say, my lord, you are very calm for someone who has been caught ravishing a young woman in her own house.”
He felt himself redden. “I am engaged to your stepdaughter, Dr. Walker. She is a grown woman, and my intentions are honorable. What we do with our time is no one’s business but our own.”
“Of course.” Penelope’s stepfather gave him a speculative look. “But I want to know something.”
“Ask away.”
Dr. Walker hesitated. He sipped port from his glass, appearing to mull the situation over. “You, my lord, strike me as a person who is very meticulous and deliberate about what he does. So why did you leave your coat in my stepdaughter’s bedchamber?”
He smiled ruefully and glanced at the suit of armor in the far corner of the room. “I thought it was the best way to get her to realize what she truly wanted out of this whole affair.”
“I had just come to the same conclusion myself.” Dr. Walker grinned. “Very well, my lord,” he added, shaking Lucas’s hand. “Welcome to the family.”
“Thank you, sir.”
A knock sounded at the door. “Lord Maitland is here, sir,” Gertie announced. “Should I show him to the drawin’ room?”
The baron burst into the library, waving Gertie aside. “I do not need to be shown to the drawing room. This is clearly where he is.” Maitland first looked shocked to see Lucas, then the baron straightened and said stiffly, “Ravenstone.”
“Maitland,” he acknowledged, contemplating the old man through the rim of his glass of port. “I was beginning to think you didn’t know where your niece has been staying all these years. What brings you to Highfield Manor?”
The baron strode to the nearest chair and sat without waiting for an invitation. “What game are you playing, Ravenstone? I demand to know what you think you are getting out of this.”
“Lord Maitland,” Dr. Walker said. “I respectfully remind you that you are in my home, and I do not tolerate such rudeness to my guests. Furthermore, his lordship is about to become part of our family.”
The baron’s palm slammed against the arm of the chair. “You fool! How could you believe this man,” he pointed a crooked fing
er at Lucas, “would actually want to marry the plain little chit Edmund sired?” His eyes blazed at Lucas. “Do you really think you could convince anyone that a man of your station would want anything to do with someone like Penelope if you didn’t have some hidden agenda?”
He smiled coldly. “You are one to talk about hidden agendas. What has prompted you to finally deign to visit your niece, Maitland?”
The baron frowned. “You are not going to turn this around on me. I demand to know — ”
“Lord Maitland!” Dr. Walker interrupted. “I will say again that you are in my home, and we do not tolerate such lack of respect in this house. Moreover,” he put a palm up to silence the baron’s disagreement, “Penelope is of age. It is her decision who and why to marry someone. As her stepfather, I respect her decision. And so should you, don’t you think?”
“You idiot!” the baron raged. “I do not believe this. Where is she? I demand to speak to my niece at once.”
“And so you shall.” Lucas stood up and walked over to the suit of armor in the corner of the room. He reached up and opened the helm. A pair of hazel eyes, opened wide in surprise, stared back at him.
“Butter the crumpets,” Penelope muttered. “How did you know I was in here?”
He grinned. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist being part of a bargaining situation.”
“This is outrageous!” the baron fumed as he rounded on Dr. Walker. “You have utterly destroyed years of training in proper decorum and produced this … this shameless hoyden who is not worthy of the Maitland name.”
“She is every bit a Maitland as you, Hugh.” Eleanor Walker’s usually soft voice filled the library.
Everyone turned to see Penelope’s mother, who was standing in the doorway wearing an herb-stained apron over her white muslin gown. “You visit us for the first time in fifteen years, and you have the gall to talk of proper decorum.”
Lucas watched in fascination as the soft-spoken woman sauntered into the room with the grace of the baroness she once was.
Dr. Walker spoke first in a cajoling voice. “Eleanor, my heart, this is not the time and place to bring up the past.”