Mary Blayney - [Pennistan 03]

by Strangers Kiss

  “Thank you for telling me, Meryon. I promise your secret is safe with me. Based on my experience with Bendas I agree that your actions are warranted. I will say nothing to William. I promise.”

  “Lord William already knows everything I have told you, one of the few so informed,” Meryon said as he turned his attention to directing the horse around a cluster of men and women on horseback.

  Oh dear God in Heaven. He has told me everything and I still have my secrets. “You know that I am in accord with you on this. I consider the duke no more reputable than a pickpocket,” she began, even though she did not think Hyde Park was the best place to tell him of their kinship.

  Meryon gave his attention to directing his horse between other conveyances and men and women on horseback, then he spoke again, very quietly, for her ears alone. “I understand your feeling, Elena, and that is all I need to know.”

  Someone called to him and he turned to wave. Blessed with his permission, Elena tried to put the confusion out of her mind, but the deep, dark blue of his coat was not compelling enough to make her forget that as they grew closer, more intimate, the secret she kept would become bigger and bigger.

  Both of them exchanged greetings with those they recognized or who recognized them, and Elena noticed more than one of The Gossips make note of this new couple.

  She felt his arm brush hers as he reined in the horse, with the still-amazing song of attraction that came with it. Whether to become involved with him or not no longer seemed an option.

  What was too much to give and what was too little? Did she even have a choice but to give all of herself?

  Elena noticed they were a good distance from other carriages. The raised cover of the cabriolet blocked them from sight and while it looked quite proper it was almost as private as a room with the door closed.

  Was he thinking the same thing she was? When he smiled there was little doubt of it. His eyes danced, the lines near his eyes emphasizing the goodwill that radiated from him.

  “Just a moment.” He was still smiling as he turned his head. “Wilson!” he called, and the tiger jumped down from his perch behind them.

  “Yes, sir, Your Grace.”

  The boy stood before them with such pride that Elena thought he might pop the buttons on his livery.

  “I dropped my walking stick. Retrace our route and find it, then wait for us at the Park Road gate.”

  “Yes, sir, Your Grace.” He turned and walked slowly along the route they had followed, studying the road so intently that he was almost hit by a phaeton.

  “Your cane is right here, Your Grace.”

  “Yes, I know.” He shrugged. “I wished some privacy.”

  The smile was back, still so tempting. She forced her eyes away and stared at the green of the grass and the buds on the trees. “Will he not be afraid when he is not able to find it?”

  “What does the boy have to be afraid of?” He touched her hand with his fingertips, drawing her attention away from the trees. In response, as natural as Adam and Eve in Eden, Elena put her hand in his, watching the way his black gloved fingers covered the dark lavender that she wore.

  She cleared her throat. “Will he not worry about being dismissed if he is unable to find it?”

  “Oh, yes, I see what you mean.” He glanced over his shoulder, but even she could see that the tiger was now out of sight. He turned back to her. “Elena?”

  “Yes.” She raised her eyes to his, smiling at the way he used her given name, breathed it out with an air of fond exasperation.

  “You care too much.”

  “That is impossible, Your Grace.”

  His smile mellowed and he sat back, still holding her hand. “Then I will explain why he has nothing to fear.”

  “What a gesture, Your Grace.” She would have curtsied if she had been standing. “Thank you.”

  “Nonsense.” He let go of her hand. “I am sure the coachman explained to him the way of the quality when he explained all his duties. Wilson will not find my walking stick. He will wait as I ordered. I will tell him I had not lost it after all and he will learn there are times when I wish him to disappear.”

  “Then the next time you are in the park with another lady,” Elena said, still grinning, “your tiger will be the one to announce your walking stick is missing.”

  “There is no other lady I want to be seen with in the park.” The intensity was back, banishing her smile and his, drawing them together, intent on one thing.

  He took her hand again and kissed it. “Elena, I want to talk to you about something.”

  “Meryon!” She could not stand it any longer. “How can you think of anything but this?” She laid her hands flat against his coat, feeling his breath quicken, and ran them up until they reached his shoulders. Then leaned toward him, all but demanding a kiss.

  With the ghost of a smile he gave her one. His lips warmed quickly with an ardor that was neither innocent nor practiced, but filled with honest desire.

  Oh yes, she thought as she gave herself to him. He pushed her cloak aside, crushing her to him, surprising her with the strength of his arms. His embrace made her feel as though she were a treasure that he was afraid would escape.

  The smallest frisson of fear aroused her even more and she opened her mouth to him with an abandon that she had thought lost forever. The sweep of his tongue, the smell of sandalwood, the beat of his heart, all her senses but sight were filled with him. Even with her eyes closed she could see an invitation that had been offered, and she eagerly accepted.

  He ended the kiss too soon, but touched his lips to the corner of her mouth and to her cheek as he moved away, promising that this was only the beginning.

  Drawing her close again, he did not kiss her, but pressed his lips into her hair.

  “Elena.”

  He was the duke now. It was amazing how quickly he gathered his self-control.

  “Elena,” he said again, “I have a house in Mayfair.”

  “Oh?” Yes, of course he did. Her brain was fuzzy, still feeling his lips, still tasting him. With effort, she took command of her senses and listened.

  “The house has a cozy feel,” he went on, “but I think it quite perfect in every detail.”

  She eased away from him to see if he was teasing her. “The Duke of Meryon’s house is small? That cannot be.”

  “Oh no.” He smiled a little, a social smile, the briefest apology for the confusion. “The ducal residence is a huge place off Berkeley Square, guaranteed to impress anyone. My grandfather saw to that. No, the house I am speaking of I own personally, for my own use.”

  Was he going to suggest that they go there?

  “I want to go there more than I want to sing, Meryon, but it’s too soon. We hardly know each other.”

  He kissed her with such intensity it was more of a branding than a gifting. “Come and dine with me. Garrett will act as our chaperone and we can become better acquainted.”

  “This evening?”

  “Yes, tonight.”

  Did he mean it to sound like an ultimatum, or was that a command? It could be no more, or less, than ducal habit. It didn’t matter. He had not tried to seduce her with promises or more kisses but had accepted her hesitation.

  “Tonight.” She echoed and kissed him, intending a sweet touch of the lips. It became more and deeper. They broke apart, laughing.

  “Dinner first,” he said, as if he could read her mind.

  Meryon gathered up the reins, concentrating on turning the horse and not letting his sensibility communicate itself to the animal. Soon, soon. They would be together soon.

  It said something for their acting skills that they traveled the length of Rotten Row and to the gate at Park Lane appearing before the ton as though all they had in mind was seeing friends, enjoying the weak sunshine.

  Wilson stood on watch for them, at the gate as he had been told. The boy hurried to him almost in tears for his failure to locate the supposedly missing stick. The duke held up the
cane and gestured for the boy to hop on the back.

  “My father lived in France during the Revolution.” He glanced at Elena to be sure he had her attention. “He taught all of us to value the servants, pay them well, be sure that the house steward listened to their needs and complaints.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  He could tell by her expression that Elena had no idea why he had brought up this subject.

  “Now you have taken it a step further. You have made me care about Wilson’s sensibilities. I do not thank you for that. Now I will have to work not to see each one as an individual and wonder what they need.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  “And that means you expect me to?”

  “No, of course not. Only to think about it.”

  “Oh, I have a great deal to think about. I think you try to distract me from what I want to think about most.”

  “Dinner?” she asked with a sweet innocence that she compromised with a devilish smile.

  “Most assuredly not.” He emphasized the last word. “But I suppose I should think about what Cook, whose name I do not know, will say when I send word that we are a party now and not just a meal for Garrett and me.”

  20

  DINNER BECAME MORE of an event than Meryon anticipated. His brother Gabriel and Gabriel’s wife, Lynette, along with two of their children, had arrived with no advance notice. Gabriel insisted that he had written two weeks before, advising the household of their visit.

  Lynette, mortified, admitted that they would probably find the letter buried under some pile or other once they returned to Sussex.

  “It hardly matters,” Meryon said. “The nursery will hold a dozen and to have two older boys to play with will make Rexton deliriously happy.”

  “And his nurse will hate us forever.” Lynette spoke the words with no laughter in her voice.

  “Nonsense. Yesterday she hired a new nursery maid and a schoolroom maid. And my tiger, Wilson, helps with Magda in the evening. The nurse has too much staff.”

  Gabriel let himself be convinced, and with assurances that their rooms were always kept ready, the housekeeper escorted them up the stairs.

  “Are their rooms really kept ready?” Michael asked Meryon once Gabriel and Lynette had left the room.

  “Yes, because those mysterious letters Gabriel insists he sends never actually arrive.”

  As he dressed, Meryon wondered what his family would make of another unexpected guest. Of course it was hardly a faux pas in this unconventional gathering of Pennistan relations.

  He laughed, causing Blix to nearly cut him as he trimmed his hair. Garrett had been a spy, less than a gentleman, for years. Now a vicar, Garrett understood discretion and human weaknesses better than most, and Gabriel and Lynette were such an eccentric couple that he suspected they would approve of his behavior before they would be shocked by it.

  So the five of them sat down to dinner. They all welcomed Elena warmly, pretending there was nothing unusual about an unrelated female guest at their table, seated on the duke’s right.

  Meryon could not recall a more delightful dinner. He let the talk flow around him. He certainly did not need to direct it. He could barely fit a word into the conversation. Elena would include him, often directing her comments to him, but the others acted as though they wanted to impress Elena and did not know, or care, the name of the man next to her.

  In no time, the group made unexpected connections.

  Before the footmen removed the first course, Lynette remembered that she had heard Eduardo Verano play more than once during her years in Europe.

  “Verano had a way of reaching both the heart and the brain,” Lynette explained to the others. “He shared his very self when he played.”

  When Elena’s eyes grew teary, Lynette hurried to apologize for mentioning her husband.

  “Oh no,” Elena said hastily. “I am touched that you remember Edward’s talent. He and I consider a memory like yours the finest tribute in the world.”

  Her loyalty impressed him. Well, everything about her impressed him.

  By the time the last course arrived, Elena asked that Lynette and Gabriel explain more about their project.

  She leaned across the empty table and insisted when they demurred. She turned to Meryon. “Command them to tell me, Your Grace.” He picked up her hand and kissed it lightly.

  “Her wish is my command, brother. Tell her about the project.”

  Complete silence reigned for the first time since they had sat down to dinner. Lynette and Gabriel looked at Garrett, who gave a slight nod and reached for his wineglass.

  “I’ve never known you to be so humble, Gabriel. I warn you if you do not tell the Signora I will, and you know I will make a hash of it.”

  “Very well.” Gabriel acquiesced with a slight distracted air. “If you insist.”

  Meryon knew the work involved an attempt to prepare a modern version of the knowledge of the human body shown through the use of cut-paper silhouettes, layering the musculature, the heart and respiratory system, and other body parts over the human skeleton.

  Elena, however, struck to the heart of the matter. “So your project represents both art and science? Is it what brought you together?”

  “Not really,” Gabriel said and shared a secret look with his wife. “But it is what keeps us together.”

  Lynette laughed at the absurdity, raising her serviette so she did not spray the table with wine.

  Michael took up the issue. “You know, he could be right, Lynette. All those days when you will not talk to each other because your art and his science do not agree?”

  Lynette nodded.

  “Olivia insists it is arguing that keeps a marriage strong.” Garrett looked around the table.

  “Oh, yes,” Elena concurred. “I agree completely.”

  Meryon sat back a moment. He had never in his life experienced any estrangement from his wife.

  “The duke and I have spoken of this.” Elena gave him a smile that made his stomach flip. “I think that trust between a husband and wife adds passion to all dimensions of a marriage.”

  There was complete silence at the table and Elena blushed. “I am sorry if that was inappropriate.”

  “Not at all, signora,” Gabriel said. “How long have you known Lyn? He is not usually so forthcoming, even with us. Tell us your secret.”

  “She likes to make me think.” Meryon answered the potentially embarrassing question for her. “You see, signora,” Meryon added, “you have reminded them of what they have in each other. Stop blushing. We are all married, or have been.”

  They all agreed and began to discuss the travesty that was the Prince Regent’s marriage to Caroline of Brunswick.

  Eventually Lynette suggested that she and Elena retire to the salon while the gentlemen smoked or drank port. Though Michael and Gabriel agreed, Meryon had no intention of subjecting himself to their questions. It might also have had a little to do with a desire to be alone with his lady.

  “We will dispense with that this evening, Lynette, and join you for tea immediately. The Signora and I are expected elsewhere.”

  He made sure not to look at her, in case she was blushing or would blush. The others accepted the announcement with aplomb and abandoned the dining room together.

  They were in the salon, sipping tea, with Meryon wondering exactly how quickly he and Elena could say good night to the others when the sound of running feet, the four-legged kind, distracted them all.

  Meryon heard more running sounds and yelling of the boyish variety before he had the door completely open. He stepped into the hall; Magda saw him and leaped into his arms.

  Rexton, Wilson, and one of Gabe’s boys raced down the stairs, yelling at Magda and one another, apparently unaware that the duke, who was, respectively, their father, employer, and uncle, could hear every word they said.

  “If she bothers the duke and his company it will be my head!” Wilson insisted.

  “If
she dies I will beat you up,” Rexton shouted.

  “If my mother catches us she will beat me up!” Peter did not so much shout as moan.

  The three skidded to a halt when they saw Meryon holding a shaking Magda.

  “She is perfectly safe. Rexton, tell me what made her run away from you.” Meryon could hear the other adults behind him, but the boys had eyes only for him.

  Wilson stepped back and let Rexton speak. “The maid wanted to brush Magda’s hair and you know how much she hates that. So she was running around the room and we were chasing her.” He paused a moment and Wilson whispered something to him. “Someone left the door open and Magda ran out and we wanted to catch her before she interrupted your dinner party.”

  Meryon turned to Wilson. “Take Magda out, on a lead, for her nighttime walk. The rest of you go back to the nursery.”

  Wilson’s relief was obvious. He took Magda and made soothing noises as they moved to the back of the house.

  “Sir, may I go with him? He might need help if Magda runs away.” Rexton did his best to look responsible, but no father in his right mind would let a boy his age out alone at night.

  “No, son. Later this summer when the sun sets so late, you may go, but it is up to bed now.”

  Rexton nodded, his eyes swimming with disappointment. When he could see that tears would not work with his father, the boy turned, touched his cousin on the arm, and yelled, “Race you!”

  They were out of sight before Peter’s parents could say anything.

  “You do not believe that story, do you, Lyn?” Gabriel’s incredulity illustrated he had learned a lot about children in the last few years.

  “Of course I don’t believe him. But it would have been unfair to ask either Peter or Wilson for the truth. Wilson thinks that I can tell lie from truth and knows a lie would ruin the trust I have in him. But if he told the truth then Rexton would hate him and Peter forever.”

  “Forever being about a week,” Garrett explained and then went on. “How long do you worry about every noise and cough?”

  “If you believe my mother,” Gabriel’s wife offered, “parents never stop worrying about their children.”