“Don’t come any closer,” she said sharply.
“Why not?” He grinned wickedly and continued toward her. “This is the point at which I take you in my arms and we promise to love one another until the end of our days.” He reached out to pull her into his embrace but she stepped away.
An odd sense of panic filled her. “I can’t promise that, Marcus.”
“Why not?” His brow furrowed. “We have no more secrets between us. I am more than willing to raise these girls as my own. In truth, I quite like them. Almost as much as I like their aunt.”
“But”—she struggled for the right words—“I don’t love you.”
He studied her carefully, then grinned. “I don’t believe you.”
She gasped. “It’s true. Granted, I feel a certain amount of affection for you. And I do like you a great deal. And admittedly I do feel”—she blurted the words—“lust for you.”
He laughed and pulled her into his arms. “Lust?”
“Yes.” She stared up at him defiantly. “I believe I am, well, in lust with you.”
“In lust with me?” He laughed again, then bent to feather kisses along the side of her neck. “How delightful.”
“You don’t mind, then?” she said, struggling against the weakness in her knees his touch always triggered.
“Not in the least,” he murmured. “I will take lust for the moment.”
“What do you mean, for the moment?”
“My darling Lady Pennington.” He raised his head and looked into her eyes, and she resisted the urge to melt against him. “It has taken me a very long time to find love. And I suspect it will take a fair amount of time for you to accept that I may be trusted. With your future and the future of your nieces and the future of our children. However, I believe you already trust me with your heart, whether you’re willing to face that yet or not.” His lips met hers, and he kissed her with a passion and desire that quite took her breath away. He drew his head back and grinned down at her. “You may call it lust all you wish but you love me, Gwen, and I shall spend every hour of the next seven and a half years in a concerted effort to make you admit it. Beginning right now.”
She swallowed hard. “Here?”
“No, not here.” He laughed. “At the moment we have a curious Berkley waiting, probably with his ear pressed against the door, as well as a new family that needs attention. I am more convinced than ever that it was fate that we should marry, and I am just as convinced I am destined to love you, as you are destined to love me.”
“Really, why?”
“The three Fates in the garden decreed it, and there are three girls who will no doubt expect it.” He kissed her again firmly. “Later I shall show you precisely what plan of attack I intend to use to convince you to accept your fate.”
“Oh my.” She breathed the words. “Regardless, Marcus.” She pulled herself together and drew a deep breath. “Love is a trap for women and I shall not fall into it.”
“My dear Lady Pennington.” He grinned wickedly. “You already have.”
Chapter 16
One can always count on uncles to set things right. However, since uncles are men too, one cannot be as confident that they recognize a problem in the first place.
Charity Loring
“We wish to speak to you.”
Marcus looked up from the desk to find himself confronted by three pairs of unblinking eyes. He was no longer surprised that the girls had managed to enter the library and line up before his desk without his notice. Indeed, while in the weeks since their arrival he had noticed they made a considerable amount of noise on occasion, they were also prone to stealth when they wished. And life was certainly no longer dull.
He leaned back in his chair and smiled. “What did you wish to speak to me about?”
The girls traded glances, then Charity squared her shoulders. “First of all, we want you to know we are quite happy here.”
“We like our new family,” Patience said.
“Especially Uncle Reggie and Grandmama Pennington,” Hope added. “She is great fun for someone so old.”
“She will be delighted to hear it, but I would suggest you not mention to her the old part.” Marcus nodded somberly. “She is rather sensitive about her age.”
His mother had arrived last week, a few days after Madames Freneau and de Chabot had returned to London, and was thrilled to discover the girls. They had become fast friends and, he’d been told, his mother didn’t so much as hesitate to participate in the blood oath. Obviously a point in her favor in the eyes of his new nieces.
“This is all very good to know.” He studied the faces before him. “But there’s more, isn’t there?”
Charity nodded. “We don’t think Aunt Gwen is happy.”
Hope leaned forward and lowered her voice confidentially. “We do like her now but she’s really rather an odd sort of person, don’t you think so?”
Marcus frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Well.” Patience thought for moment. “She acts as if she’s waiting for something to happen.”
“Something horrible.” Concern colored Charity’s face. “Something dire.”
“The end of the world when we shall all be judged,” Hope intoned.
He bit back a grin. “Surely it’s not that bad.”
Again the girls exchanged looks. “It is that bad,” Charity said firmly. “You just can’t see it because you’re a man and don’t understand anything about women.”
“Madame de Chabot says men are pleasant enough creatures but not very, oh, what was it she said?” Patience hopped up to sit on the edge of his desk. “Perceptive. That’s the word. She says they often don’t see what’s right under their noses.”
“And is there something about my wife I’m not seeing?” he said slowly, wondering which was worse: the influence of the missionaries on these children or the influence of Madame de Chabot.
“Yes.” Charity heaved a sigh. “And it’s up to you to make it right.”
He shook his head in confusion. “Make what right?”
“It’s up to you to make her happy.” Hope huffed.
“If she is unhappy, and frankly I don’t know that she is”—he chose his words with care—“what would you suggest I do about it?”
“You have to give her what she wants more than anything else in the world,” Hope said firmly. Her sisters nodded their agreement. “I think it’s a dog.”
“A dog?” He raised a brow.
Hope nodded. “A dog would make her happy. Extremely happy.”
“Somehow I doubt that.” He chuckled. “However, aside from a dog, what do the three of you think your aunt wants more than anything else in the world?”
“We don’t know exactly but we have talked about it.” Patience considered him for a moment. “Madame de Chabot says all a woman really wants is to love and be loved.”
“Ah, but I do love her,” he said with a smile. “Very much.”
Hope’s forehead furrowed. “And does she love you?”
“Of course she does.” Patience rolled her gaze toward the ceiling. “She looks at him like he’s a sweet she’s dying to eat.”
“But she won’t because she’s afraid of a stomachache.” Charity gazed at him intently. “That’s it, then, isn’t it? She wants to love you but she won’t or can’t or something like that.”
“That sounds stupid to me,” Hope muttered. “I think what she really needs is a dog.”
“Forgive me for pointing this out, ladies, and while I do appreciate your concern…” He paused. “The relationship between your aunt and myself isn’t really your affair.”
“We think it is.” Patience cast him an innocent smile.
“Uncle Marcus,” Charity began patiently, as if she were talking to a small child. “One of the things we quite like about you is that you don’t treat us as if we are children.”
“Even if you are,” he said.
“That’s not important right now.”
Charity waved in a dismissive gesture exactly like her aunt’s. “For the first time since our parents, um, left, we feel as if we, well, belong somewhere and to someone.”
“Aunt Gwen has never belonged anywhere,” Patience said bluntly. “And she’s never had a family. Not a real family.”
“Or a dog,” Hope murmured.
Charity crossed her arms over her chest. “Don’t you think if you never had a family or never belonged anywhere or was never loved and then all of a sudden you had all these wonderful things, wouldn’t you worry that maybe they’d all vanish as quickly as they’d appeared?”
“But a dog is always with you,” Hope said under her breath.
“And sometimes, when you haven’t had very good luck, you’re afraid to say things out loud.” Patience’s heels thudded against the side of the desk. “Because you’re afraid if you say how happy you are or how in love you are”—Patience shrugged—“the Fates will hear you and take it all away.”
“You three certainly are an interesting mix of philosophies,” Marcus murmured.
Patience grinned. “Thank you.”
“So.” Charity thought for a moment. “Perhaps all you really have to do is get her to admit how she feels about everything. Especially about you.”
“And once she says it out loud and nothing happens”—Patience shrugged—“she’ll be happy.”
“We’ll all be a lot happier with a dog in the house,” Hope said.
“We’ll see about the dog. As for the rest of it…” Marcus sat back and studied the trio.
They were exceptionally old for their ages. Of course, they had been through a great deal during their young lives. Their parents could well be faulted for bringing their children along on the adventurous life they had led before their deaths, but was that, in truth, worse than abandoning them to others to raise? Send them off to a school somewhere as Gwen had been sent away? At least these three never doubted they were wanted.
Were they right about Gwen? Was she indeed unhappy?
She’d been a bit moody since the girls had come to live with them, but then she was a woman, and weren’t such things to be expected of women? He’d always thought he knew a great deal about women but he had discovered, in the few short weeks since his marriage, what one knew of the gender from flirtations at public events or even intimate encounters had little to do with what one learned living day in and day out with a female. They were, or at least Gwen was, unique creatures and quite fascinating, even if they had a way of looking at the world that was completely foreign to him. Indeed, there were moments when the working of Gwen’s mind completely escaped him and he wondered about not only her sanity but his own.
“It seems we are back to the crux of the matter,” he said carefully. “If indeed your aunt is not happy, what do I do to make her so? And if she is, how do I get her to admit it?”
“You could give her a gift, I suppose. That might work.” Charity’s brow furrowed with thought.
“Madame de Chabot says there’s nothing like a fine piece of jewelry from a man to improve a lady’s spirits. I think it’s a capital idea.” Patience nodded her approval. “She mentioned that diamonds are especially effective.”
“I would imagine,” Marcus murmured.
“But Madame Freneau says a gift doesn’t have to cost a great deal if it’s from your heart.” Charity considered him curiously. “What could you give her from your heart?”
He blew a long breath. “I haven’t the vaguest idea.”
“A dog would be…” Hope looked at the faces around her. “Well, it would,” she muttered.
“I don’t think a dog or diamonds is the right answer.” Marcus shook his head. “But I don’t know what the answer is.”
“Well, you will surely think of something.” Patience hopped off the desk with the satisfied air of one who has accomplished a critical mission. “We know you will.”
“It may take some time though.” Charity cast him a warning frown. “You can’t expect her to immediately trust that everything she has now won’t go away tomorrow. You probably have a bit of work ahead of you, but we have every confidence you will do what is necessary to make Aunt Gwen as content as we are.” She met his gaze straight on. “We are most grateful for that, Uncle Marcus, and we don’t want anything to muck it up. Do you understand?”
“Of course.” He wasn’t entirely certain, but he might have just been threatened.
Charity favored him with a brilliant smile, and abruptly he realized she would all too soon no longer be a child. It was a terrifying thought. “I thought you would.”
The two older girls started toward the door. Hope hung back, her words low and intended for his ears alone. “I truly think a dog is an excellent idea, but if you don’t think that is what will make Aunt Gwen happy, I shall understand. However, I do hope you will consider it on those occasions when you are trying to find a gift for someone else. I know my spirits would always be lifted by the presence of a dog.”
“Thank you, Hope.” His serious tone matched hers. “I shall indeed keep it in mind.”
“Good.” She grinned with obvious relief.
“Are you coming?” Patience called from the open door.
“Yes, of course.” Hope scrambled after her sisters. Her voice drifted in from the hall. “I really do think a dog would…”
Marcus chuckled. A dog was certainly one problem he could solve without the least bit of effort. There were dogs at the stables, of course, but he wouldn’t mind having some sort of more sedate creature for the girls. Nothing too fluffy or insipid. Something less than a working beast and more than an animal suited for nothing more than sitting in a lap and yapping indiscriminately.
The question of Gwen’s state was a bit more difficult to solve.
Had he truly been so stupid, so dense, so smug in his own happiness that he hadn’t noticed his wife was not? Apparently.
Charity was extremely clever for one so young. How could the girl see what he didn’t? She was no doubt right about Gwen. Gwen did now have all those things she’d never really known before: family, home, and even love. Oh, there was fortune too, of course, but that certainly wasn’t as important as those more intangible things. It made perfect sense that she would not be able to trust that it would not all vanish with the next stiff wind.
Marcus had always been cautious about his emotions and had recognized that same quality in Gwen. But he had never experienced the same kind of abrupt loss she’d faced in her life. He’d never known what it was to feel unwanted, as if you had no worth, as if you did not belong. How could anyone weather such emotional storms and emerge unscathed? Yet Gwen had survived remarkably well. She was strong and determined and…and apparently far too intelligent to accept her new life without question. It made a great deal of sense, and he was an arrogant, inconsiderate idiot not to have realized it.
Thanks to his nieces, he now understood.
Pity he hadn’t the faintest idea what to do about it.
She was insane. There was simply no other answer.
Gwen slipped off her horse, ignoring the fact that getting back on the sidesaddle without help would be awkward if not impossible. But if she had to walk all the way back to the hall, leading the animal by the reins, so be it. A long walk would do her as much good as a long ride.
Marcus was right about this spot: it was indeed wonderful, especially late in the afternoon with the sun lingering low in the sky. In recent days she had found herself drawn here more and more often. It was the perfect place to think and attempt to sort out feelings that made absolutely no sense.
Gwen wandered over to the beech and sank down beneath its gnarled branches. She didn’t particularly want to be insane, but it was the only answer that made even the least bit of sense.
For the first time she could remember, she wanted for nothing. Oh, not simply financially, although that was admittedly pleasant, but she had a place she could truly call home and people who wanted her around and a position of
permanence. Even her fears about the girls had eased. She had heard nothing from Whiting and with each passing day Gwen was more and more confident that, once again, Albert had been mistaken.
She had, in truth, everything she’d ever wanted, everything that had been missing from her life, and more than she’d ever imagined.
She had Marcus.
She pulled her knees up in a most improper manner and wrapped her arms around them. What would he do when her insanity was discovered? Would he keep up a public image as the duke did and refuse to divorce her? Would he spend his life in a futureless liaison with a woman who could give him what his wife could not?
No, of course not. She heaved a heavy sigh. Marcus would never follow in the duke’s footsteps because Marcus’s wife was not truly insane. The madness that afflicted Gwen was nothing more than love.
She’d fallen in love with her husband, and she’d never faced anything more terrifying in her life. Not being penniless, not running away to take her first governess position or any of the ones that followed, absolutely nothing until now.
From the moment he’d admitted his own feelings, she’d had a horrible weight in the pit of her stomach. A dreadful feeling of apprehension that would not leave. A terrible sense that if she accepted all she now had, admitted she had done the one thing she’d promised herself she’d never do and fallen in love, something truly terrible would happen. The house of cards she had built would totter and finally crash. And destroy her in the process.
She rested her chin on her knees and stared unseeing into the distance. She’d never thought of herself as being particularly cowardly, indeed, she’d considered herself rather courageous, the way she’d always been willing to seize control of her life. But lately she’d wondered if the greater courage wasn’t in facing whatever confronted her head on instead of running from it. If true bravery didn’t lie in facing down the panic that rose within her like her own personal demon. And if what she always thought was fearlessness was, in truth, the worst kind of lie. The kind you tell to yourself and never question.
Love with the Proper Husband Page 24