A sharp pain stabbed through her at the thought of leaving him, of never seeing him again. Never hearing his laugh, never lying in his arms. An ache formed in the back of her throat. This business of being in lust with a man might be nearly as dangerous as loving him. She swallowed hard and got to her feet. Thank God, she had resisted love. How could she leave him at all if she loved him?
She needed to see the girls at once, if only to assure herself they were still safe. Besides, Colette and Madame needed to know of the possibility of problems. She comforted herself with the idea that Albert had been very wrong before and could well be wrong again.
Patience, Gwen.
She pulled open the door and came face to face with her husband and Lord Berkley.
She started in surprise. “Marcus.”
“Gwendolyn, my dear. You are looking remarkably lovely this afternoon.”
He looked rather remarkable himself. She hadn’t seen him since this morning, and judging by his apparel, he’d been out riding. The cut of the jacket emphasized the breadth of his shoulders, the tight fit of his breeches molded to the curves of his thighs, and a now familiar sense of desire swept through her. Blasted lust. He brushed a kiss across her cheek and strode past her into the room, Lord Berkley a step behind.
Berkley took her hand and lifted it to his lips. “Good day, Lady Pennington. That dress quite becomes you.”
“Thank you, my lord.” She smiled with the pure pleasure of a woman unused to casual compliments who now found them quite enjoyable. “But you should really thank my husband. He is receiving the bills.”
“Bills that are starting to stream in with the insistence of a flood,” Marcus said wryly.
“But well worth it, old man.” Berkley grinned.
“In fact, I was just on my way out,” Gwen said lightly. “I have yet another fitting, and I fear I shall be late.”
“My mother is keeping you busy, then?” Marcus said.
“She’s been wonderful. I confess I am quite unused to dealing with the myriad details of what she insists are the minimum wardrobe requirements of the Countess of Pennington.” She shook her head. “I had no idea. It quite boggles the mind.”
“I can well imagine.” Marcus studied her in an offhand manner. “Godfrey mentioned that you had a caller.”
“Nothing of significance.” She waved dismissively. “A messenger from Mr. Whiting’s office. A minor detail about the terms of my inheritance.”
“Oh?” Marcus raised a curious brow. “Something you’d like me to handle for you?”
“Not at all,” she said a shade too quickly. “I was assured it’s not important. Well, I must be going.”
“Of course.” Marcus nodded. “You wouldn’t want to keep my mother waiting.”
She smiled and started toward the door, then impulsively turned on her heel, crossed the room to him, and threw her arms around him, pressing her lips to his. For a moment he hesitated, then his arms wrapped tightly around her and he kissed her back. Hard and with unexpected ferocity, as if he sensed her need to cling to him and shared it. For a moment she lost herself in his embrace.
Berkley cleared his throat, and a hot blush washed up her face.
She drew her head back and stared up at her husband in horror. “I do apologize, my lord, I don’t know what came over me.”
Marcus gazed down at her with his slightly crooked smile. “Nor do I, but I have no complaints.” He kissed her quickly again and released her. “I believe you said you were late.”
“Yes, of course.” She cast a quick glance at Berkley, who gazed back innocently. “Good day, my lord.”
Berkley nodded. “So it appears.”
Gwen forced a weak smile and fled the room. Good Lord, what had possessed her to exhibit such sheer wantonness in front of Lord Berkley? Certainly she had become rather wanton in recent days when it came to the privacy of the bedchamber. And indeed, there were moments when she wondered how she could survive the long hours when she was not in Marcus’s bed. And yes, aside from the sheer pleasure of his touch, she had found comfort and security and even peace when he held her in his arms. But to throw herself at him as if they would never be together again…
As if they would never be together again.
No. She refused to consider such a thing. If and when the time ever came that she had no choice but to leave him she would deal with it, but much could happen between now and then. It was far too soon to worry.
She noted in the back of her mind how quickly happiness could vanish. Replaced by a heavy, awful weight in the pit of her stomach and an ache lingering somewhere in the region of her heart.
“Well, that was certainly impressive.” Reggie chuckled. “I knew things we’re going well but not that—”
“I spoke to my mother this morning.” Marcus stared thoughtfully at the closed door. “She’s pleased Gwen is taking the acquisition of a new wardrobe to heart and noted she has been absent from the house a great deal in pursuit of it. My mother also said she regrets not accompanying her on most of these errands. Odd, as I was under the impression my mother and my wife were spending most of their time together. In addition, my mother apologized for not being able to meet Gwendolyn today. Some sort of gathering with her friends.”
Reggie shrugged. “Either your mother or your wife was obviously mistaken about their plans.”
“Possibly. I also ran into Whiting yesterday. He didn’t mention any problems.”
“She said it wasn’t important. Perhaps it just came to light today.”
“Perhaps,” Marcus murmured. “Still, Godfrey indicated Gwen’s caller insisted on speaking to her personally. Rather impertinent for a simple messenger, don’t you think?”
“Not in the least.” Reggie’s brows pulled together. “What are you thinking?”
“Nothing really.” Marcus knew full well how ridiculous his suspicions would sound, especially as they were based on little of significance.
“I know you as well as you know yourself, old friend. And I know when you have something on your mind.” Reggie studied him curiously. “It has to do with your wife, doesn’t it?”
“It’s nothing,” Marcus said with a firmness he didn’t feel. “I have simply begun to wonder if she is keeping something from me.”
“I suspect most wives keep a great deal from their husbands.”
“I suppose.”
“I should think you have little to worry about with a wife who would kiss you in a manner that curled my toes from halfway across the room.” Reggie chuckled. “Forgive me, but I didn’t seem to note anything even remotely secretive about her behavior. Would that I, when the time comes, have a wife as passionate in her nature.”
“Her passion is not in question.”
“Then what is?”
“You will think me insane.”
“Probably.”
“Have you wondered, in this past week, why she consented to marry me?”
“No.” Reggie shook his head. “I assumed, once she’d thought about it, she agreed for the usual reasons. You have wealth, a respectable title, and you’re not entirely ugly. In truth, you’re an excellent catch. The woman could scarce do better. Unless, of course, she married me,” he said with a grin.
Marcus ignored him. “I really don’t know her, Reggie. Oh, certainly I know her background. What her life has been like these last five years. Her ancestry, that sort of thing. I know she claims not to desire love—”
“You never told me that.”
“I don’t tell you everything.” Marcus gestured dismissively. “It scarcely matters except one does wonder why a woman as lovely and intelligent as she would not have married long ago.”
“She was a governess, Marcus,” Reggie pointed out. “In truth, little more than a servant. I daresay suitable matches for ladies of breeding rarely come along when one is forced into such a position.”
“But what if she had found someone?” Marcus knew how ridiculous he sounded but couldn’t seem to
stop himself. “What if indeed there was some man she’d pledged her heart to.” He turned and paced the room. “Someone who had tossed her aside without a second thought. Someone who was now back in her life.”
“Marcus—”
“You said it yourself, women are always fascinated by men who are no good for them. It would explain why she is so set against love. Oh, certainly she claims love is a cage or a trap or some such nonsense.”
“You have never especially seen the merits of love yourself,” Reggie said mildly.
Marcus continued without pause. “What if this man now demanded money from her? Or worse, wanted to take her away. What if—” He swiveled toward his friend. “What if I lose her?”
“Why do you care?” Reggie said carefully.
“Bloody hell, man, what kind of a question is that? She’s my wife.”
Reggie stared at him for a long moment. “You’re right, I do think you’re insane.”
“I knew you would and I daresay you’re right.” Marcus strode to the nearest chair, collapsed into it, and blew a long, frustrated breath. “My mind seems to have gotten hold of this admittedly absurd idea, and it’s like the refrain to a tune you cannot abide, yet it plays over and over in your head until you’re quite mad.”
“I know of the two of us, I have never been the one with the most rational way of looking at the world, but in this particular instance, apparently mine is the clearer head.” Reggie settled into a nearby chair and leaned forward. “First of all, you must admit everything you’ve cited is no more than mere speculation. The facts, as you have detailed them, are easily explained away. In truth, your interpretation is one of the most fanciful I have ever heard from anyone, let alone you. You are assuming the worst on the basis of next to nothing. There are a dozen innocent explanations for everything you’ve mentioned.”
Reggie leaned back in his chair and studied him intently. “The question now is why you have done so.”
“She’s my wife,” Marcus muttered.
“A wife you didn’t particularly want. A blasted inconvenience, I think you called her.”
“I want her now.”
“I see.” Reggie’s voice was smug.
Marcus narrowed his eyes. “What, precisely, do you see?”
“You won’t like it.” A warning sounded in Reggie’s voice.
Marcus heaved a resigned sigh. “Probably not. But my displeasure has scarcely stopped you before.”
“Very well.” Reggie considered him thoughtfully. “First of all, I see a man in the throes of irrational jealousy.”
“I most certainly am not.”
“You most certainly are. If I behaved as you are now, you would be the first to point it out to me. With a great deal of glee, I might add.” Reggie raised a brow. “Shall I continue?”
Marcus shrugged. “As you wish.”
“Oh, I do wish. I am rather enjoying this.” Reggie flashed a grin and then sobered. “This jealousy of yours is based on nothing of substance, and I suspect has much more to do with incidents in your past than in your present. The only times you have truly grown close to a woman, she has ultimately been involved with someone else. While there is no real evidence that the same thing is happening with your wife, your previous experience has made you wary. You are now prone to suspicion where there is, in truth, nothing suspicious at all.”
“I know that.” Marcus clenched his jaw. “I have already, in a calm and intellectual manner, thoroughly examined my suspicions and have furthermore tried, and failed, to lay them to rest. My head understands this is sheer nonsense, but what I”—he thumped his chest—“feel will not let the matter be.”
Reggie grinned.
“What?” Marcus snapped.
Reggie’s grin widened. “Welcome to my club, old man.”
“I am not in love with her.” Marcus’s tone was firm.
Reggie snorted.
“I like her a great deal.” Even as he said the word, Marcus cringed to himself at the defensive note in his voice. “Indeed, I even care for her. There is a certain amount of…affection. But it is not love.”
“What makes you think so?”
“For one thing, from my observation, every time you have been in love you have been quite miserable,” Marcus snapped.
“Are you so very happy?” Reggie said mildly.
“This is entirely different.” Marcus glared for a moment then blew a long breath. “What am I to do now?”
“Ah, the eternal question.” Reggie chuckled. “I suppose you could always try talking to your wife. Asking her straight out about your suspicions.”
“I couldn’t possibly do that.” Marcus shook his head. “She would think I did not trust her, and that does not strike me as a good way to begin our life together. Besides, we agree my fears are no doubt groundless. Still, I feel I should do something.”
“Then why not take her away from London for a time? You could go to the country. She hasn’t seen Holcroft Hall yet.”
“I could do that,” Marcus said slowly. “Of course, the season is just getting under way. She’s never had a season, you know. We have already received a fair number of invitations. I did think she would quite enjoy the upcoming festivities.”
“But given your current state, would you?”
“No, not in the least. I fear I might well view every man who so much as asked her for a dance with unwarranted suspicion.” Marcus drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair. “Gwen would probably like the estate, don’t you think? It’s her home now and she should see it. And the countryside is lovely at this time of year.” Marcus thought for a moment. “Besides, I could take the opportunity to pursue the acquisition of the dower house. Whiting still hasn’t managed to strike a deal for its purchase. When I was last there it was vacant but perhaps someone in the village can direct me to the owner and I could approach him myself.”
“It’s the perfect answer, then. You will have your new bride to yourself and your fears will be set to rest once and for all.” Reggie leaned forward. “I am confident, Marcus, that your concerns are groundless. One has only to look at the lady to see how much she cares for you. I would wager my entire fortune this woman who claims no interest in love has already fallen over the precipice of that uncertain emotion.” Reggie settled back in his chair and grinned. “As have you.”
“Nonsense,” Marcus said with a certainty he did not feel. If this was love, this unpleasant, unsettled tension lingering in his midsection like a poorly digested meal, he had been right to step cautiously around it in the past. This couldn’t possibly be love.
But what of Reggie’s observation of Gwen’s feelings? Could she be in love with her husband? Certainly the look in her eye when she gazed at him was warm, and there was obviously already affection on her part. Admittedly, on his as well. But love? The idea was not nearly as offsetting as it had once been. Indeed, the very suggestion that Gwen might love him touched something deep inside him.
And if Reggie was right about Gwen’s feelings, could he be right about Marcus’s as well? At the moment Marcus wasn’t entirely certain how he felt about anything beyond keeping Gwen in his life.
Whether Reggie was right or wrong, about either Gwen’s emotions or Marcus’s suspicions, she would soon be far removed from anyone who might try to take her away. And Marcus could concentrate his effort on determining if indeed, in spite of his resolve, love had caught him unawares.
And hoped it would not destroy them both.
Chapter 12
There is nothing more charming than those moments when a man who is supremely confident of his own nature falters and a woman knows it is to her credit.
Francesca Freneau
“So, what am I to do?” Gwen nervously prowled the perimeter of Colette’s parlor.
Madame sat in a chair calmly working on her embroidery. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?” Gwen pulled her brows together in frustration. In the past, Madame’s unrelenting serenity in the midst of turm
oil had always served to calm Gwen’s own nerves. Until today. “What do you mean, nothing? I have to do something. I can’t just wait until—”
“You can, my dear,” Madame said coolly, “and you shall. You must cultivate patience, Gwendolyn.”
“I thought I had.” Gwen sighed. “At least when Albert—Mr. Trumble—at first told me there might be some problem with my guardianship, I was determined to keep my wits about me. But that was earlier today and now I cannot help but think about what could happen. And—”
“What could happen is precisely the point.” Madame put her needlework in her lap and met Gwen’s gaze. “The gentleman who gave you this news, this Mr. Trumble—”
“Albert,” Gwen said under her breath.
“He is the same man who told you that you were penniless after your father’s death, is he not?”
Gwen nodded. “Yes.”
“And his information was erroneous then, was it not?
“Yes. But—”
“But even should his vague comments prove to be accurate now, there will be time to determine a course of action short of running away. I would hate to see that happen again, and I am certain, should the situation warrant it, that we can find a much more suitable solution.” Madame nodded at the sofa beside her chair. “Now, do sit down, Gwendolyn, you are making me dizzy.”
Gwen sank onto the sofa. “I cannot lose them, Madame. They are my family. I am all they have. And they are all I have.”
Madame raised a chastising brow. “And what of your husband? Is he not your family now?”
“Of course.” Gwen picked at a thread on the arm of the sofa and avoided Madame’s gaze. “But Marcus is…well…”
“Honorable and intelligent. And I suspect he has a good heart.” Madame studied her for a long moment. “When are you going to tell him about the girls?”
“Soon,” Gwen hedged.
“And what, pray tell, is your definition of soon?”
“I don’t know.” Gwen huffed and got to her feet, took one look at Madame’s frown, and promptly sat back down. “I don’t know.”
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