“What are you laughing about,” she huffed as she fluffed up her pillows and sat with the coverlet up to her chin for protection.
“You, turning your back on me and hiding beneath the covers.” He fluffed his pillows and sat. Only he let the covers fall to his waist. “I saw all there is to see. You are beautiful and need not hide from me. Besides,” he grinned, “when you turned you gave me a perfect view of your backside.”
She wanted to smack him with one of her pillows, but she remained still. At least her body remained still. Her insides burned, which then heated her skin.
“Blushing becomes you, my dear.”
“Stop it.”
“Stop what?”
“Just do your husbandly duty so I may sleep.”
Disappointment flashed in his one eye before he grinned and took her mouth in a kiss meant to curl toes and cause ladies to lift their skirts. Before she knew it, she was kissing him back with abandon and sighing and moaning as his hands roamed her body. When he cupped her there, her breath stalled and then she panted as his fingers played with her. Her hips rose off the bed, noises escaped her lips, and her legs opened wider, seeking some elusive release. As it crashed into her, she screamed as she shook her head from side to side, fighting and enjoying the sensations bombarding her body. Shocked at her behavior, she pushed Harry away and curled up on her side, trying to hide. Trying to find covers to cover her nakedness.
“Easy, Penelope. There’s no need to hide from me. What just happened to you is wonderful. It proves something I knew about you from the start. You are a sensual woman, and our relationship in the bedroom will be anything but boring. “Please.” He touched her shoulder. “Turn around and let me hold you. Let me love you properly.”
Swallowing her mortification, Penelope rolled onto her back. Harry took advantage and wrapped his arms around her and tugged her so she lay half on top of his chest and half on the bed.
He exhaled. “Much better.”
Words escaped her. She nodded her head in agreement. Because being held within his strong, warm arms made her feel safe, cherished and, if not loved, at least appreciated. Perhaps love between them would come in time. Truth be told, she was halfway in love with Harry already. Would he? Could he ever love her? There was no time to ponder the question as his hands began roaming her body, and Penelope’s inner sensual being started taking over her mind and body.
Harry moved over her, and she took the time to study his face. Really study it by the flicker of light coming off the flames from the fireplace. Her eyes moved around his face, but when she returned to his good eye, the soft blue glowed. He looked young, handsome and relaxed. She hardly noticed the scar down his left side, nor the black patch she was becoming accustomed to. Her insides tingled and her heart pitter-pattered inside her chest. Finally, he leaned down and took her lips in a kiss. Breaking it, he placed feather like kisses down her neck, across her chest, and up the other side.
His knee nudged her legs apart, and his hand played with her, causing her breath to catch and her hips to squirm. Now that her body knew what would come, it wanted to feel those sensations again. He rose up, took his member in his hand, placed it at her entrance, and pushed slow and steady. Again and again as her body adjusted to the size and invasion. One more push. Pain seared her insides, and she gasped.
“I’m sorry.” Harry looked at her with compassion, then kissed the tip of her nose. “I believe the pain will subside momentarily.”
Seeing the compassion in his eyes and him giving her a tender kiss on the nose had her heart tumbling again for this man who became her husband today. Before she could say the pain was easing, Harry began pulling in and out of her, causing her body to tighten around his member. The harder, the faster he moved, the more her inner body clamped around his sex until she clutched his hips, keeping him in place as her legs shook, her insides pulsated, and her head spun with what she now knew was sexual release.
Harry groaned, and his body tightened as he released his warm seed.
Not wanting to squish Penelope, Harry rolled off her onto his back and gasped for much-needed air. It took some time for his mind to catch up to his body, but when it did all he could do was smile. Life, this part of their married life, would be satisfying. His new wife would not close her eyes and think happy thoughts while he did his husbandly duties. No indeed. He was a fortunate man to have made such a wonderful match.
Outside the bedroom, they had much to learn about each other, but Harry also knew they would get along splendidly. Hadn’t they already. And when he told her about being both Harry and Hugh, perhaps she would be relieved and not angry.
A sudden chill washed across his body. He adjusted the coverlet, so they were both covered. He leaned over and kissed Penelope lightly on the lips. “Thank you and good night.” He would wait until she fell asleep before he left for his own bed. He couldn’t risk falling asleep causing the make-up which created his scar to rub off or his patch to fall off. He knew he needed to confess all to her soon, but some niggling inside him told him to wait a while longer.
Her breath evened out and little snoring sounds escaped her lips, bringing a smile to his. Feeling as though he was invading her privacy, he left the warm bed, put on his clothes and entered his sitting room, poured himself a generous amount of brandy and sat in a chair by the fireplace which had burned down to hot coals and ash. He removed the brace from his knee, then bent and unbent it, hoping to work out the kinks. He removed his patch and blinked several times, adjusting to seeing out of two eyes instead of one. Using a handkerchief he wiped off his scar. Now that he and Penelope were living together it would prove difficult to keep his disguise secret. He would have to be Harry all day, every day. Not that he wasn’t Harry all the time, he just wouldn’t be able to go without his disguise. Not something he looked forward to. His leg got sore, his eye and cheek itched.
There was an alternative. Tell her the truth. Why did he fear the truth coming out? He would think it would relieve Penelope to know she didn’t marry a disfigured cripple. Perhaps over a private dinner tomorrow evening, he would tell her. Explain all that he could without divulging Crown secrets.
After the intimacy they shared this evening, she would forgive his deceit. He had to believe she would. The alternative was too painful to explore.
Penelope awoke to the curtains being drawn back from the windows, letting in cloud filtered sunlight.
“Good morning, Your Grace.”
“Good morning, Clarisse. Would you leave and come back in an hour?
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Once alone, Penelope curled onto her side and hugged herself. She couldn’t stop the smile from forming on her lips as she remembered last night with Harry. How he made love to her with such gentleness and care for her comfort. Over the years, she’d heard stories about the marriage bed. How men could be cruel and violent to their wives. How they took their pleasure with no regard to their wife’s. Her heart jumped. How fortunate for her to have married Harry. Never in her wildest imaginations had she ever thought to be anything more than a farmer’s wife. And if she hadn’t escaped Viscount Hadley, more likely his mistress and whore. Never a duchess.
After dressing in a comely sea-foam green day dress, her hair styled in a loose chignon, she made her way down the hallway, descended the stairs, and followed the smells making her stomach growl until she entered a cheery blue breakfast room. At the table sat her husband and their eyes connected, sending an inferno to her cheeks. Visions of last night flashed before her. How did intimate married people function on a day-to-day basis without embarrassment?
Emma, Bella, and Amelia never, well sometimes they did, blushed at something their husband’s might whisper in their ear. Penelope, at this point, couldn't care less if her sisters and sister-in-law experienced mortification of deeds done in the marriage bed. Penelope cared about her and Harry and now, this very moment in the breakfast room, when moments ago her stomach growled and made known how little she
’d eaten the day before. Only now, her stomach churned, and she felt dizzy and sick. Instead of fixing a plate, she made haste toward the opposite end of the cozy table and sat down with the help of a footman. Inhaling and exhaling, she willed her stomach and head to settle. Not to mention her emotions, which ran rampant the moment she saw Harry.
“Forgive me, my dear,” Harry said with concern. “You appear peaked. Perhaps you’ll feel better after you’ve eaten.” He stood, waiving off the footman who came to his aid. “May I fix you a plate?”
Swallowing the lump in her throat, she replied, “Yes. Please. But not too much.”
Moments later he placed a plate in front of her filled with coddled eggs, a thick slice of ham, and a biscuit with clotted cream and jam. Her mouth watered either from revolt or hunger. She would find out soon enough. “Thank you.”
He made his way to his chair, sat, placed a napkin on his lap, and went back to eating. “If there’s anything specific you would like for the morning meal, cook would be happy to prepare it. The same goes for midday and evening meals. Perhaps, when you feel more comfortable here, you will begin the duties expected of the lady of the house?”
Penelope’s eyes lifted from the plate of food, which she’d yet to touch, except for the biscuit. Hoping to settle her insides and nerves, she nibbled on it. “I’d be happy to take over the duties from the housekeeper regarding the daily meals. I’ve not any experience in it, but how hard can it be?” She fervently hoped not hard at all.
“Splendid.” He wiped his mouth with his napkin, stood, and bowed. “If you’ll excuse me, I have things to attend to. I will see you at the evening meal.”
Evening meal? Obviously, he had much to do on the day after their wedding. She needed to find something to occupy herself. She spent most of her life in service to the Viscount. Having idle time didn’t arrive until she fled his house and became part of Wentworth’s house as his half-sister. Leisurely time on her hands was something new to her, and she’d yet to be comfortable with it.
She made her way up the stairs to the family drawing room, thanks to directions from the young footman who blushed when she inquired of the room. She sat on a deep blue settee and rummaged through a basket filled with un-started needlepoint. Needlepoint was something she was quite adapt at, having learned from her mother, but never had much free time to accomplish anything but a small pillow. Same for embroidery. Inside the basket she found several white, clean handkerchiefs and decided she would embroider Harry’s initials on them and present them as a late wedding gift.
Busy at work, she didn’t realize the time flew by until a servant brought in the morning tea tray. At the same time the butler announced, “The Duchess of Wentworth, the Countess of Bridgeton, and the Countess of Northborough.”
Dear me, the day after the wedding and they all visit? “Welcome. Please sit down. You have arrived at the correct time for tea.” Penelope smiled to her family, sat down and poured tea for all. Strange how cook knew to expect visitors. “Did I not see all of you yesterday at my wedding?” Even she heard the sarcasm in her voice.
“Yes. Well,” Bella, began, “we wanted to be assured you survived your wedding night.”
Emma and Amelia both gasped out, “Bella!”
“Honestly,” Bella huffed. “It’s what you both are thinking. Our dear new sister marries a mysterious, scarred, one-eyed duke. A man rumored to work for the Crown in some secret capacity. Surely, we have a right to worry over her safety. Spies and gentlemen with dubious reputations could come and go in this house at all hours of the night and put our dear sister in danger.”
Penelope laughed and nearly choked on her tea. “Really, Bella. What an imagination you have. I would expect it from Emma, our family gothic novelist, but you? Surely you don’t really believe I’m in any danger from my husband or his associates?”
Bella looked at Emma and Amelia, silently pleading for help. Amelia took pity. “I believe our family history and the tragic events that seem to plague us has Bella worried.” Amelia sipped her tea. “I’m not worried. The duke, although both handsome and scarred and mysterious all at the same time, appears to dote on you. Besides, Wentworth would never have married Penelope off to a degenerate.”
Bella snorted most unladylike, “Well, let me remind you, Amelia, how our dear brother nearly married you off to a duke who was a degenerate of the first order. You barely escaped unscathed. The man tried to force himself on you.”
Amelia’s cheeks pinked and once again Penelope was hearing about the lives of her family members that she knew nothing about. So much had happened to them before she found them. Or rather, they found her after receiving her letter introducing herself. Penning that missive was one of the hardest things she’d ever done. Asking the family of her dead father for help, knowing she was a bastard and an embarrassment to them hadn’t been easy. Somehow she’d mustered the courage and sent the letter off, praying someone in the Seabrook family would take pity on her and rescue her from her dire predicament. Now that she’d met the entire family she should not have worried. More kind, compassionate, and honorable people didn’t exist. She tried to remind herself every day how lucky she was.
“Someday real soon, I wish to hear all the scandal, gossip, and stories that have followed our family and close friends, but not today. Today we’re celebrating my marriage.”
“Yes,” Emma chimed in. “We came to hear about your wedding night.”
Now it was Penelope’s turn to blush. Surely they didn’t expect her to share the intimate details of last night?
Of course, all the ladies present with her were married and had birthed children. So they… More heat suffused her cheeks at the thought of…
“You are blushing,” Bella said. “Do we take that as a wonderful sign. That the marriage bed with the duke was…fulfilling for a better word.”
All four of them giggled. “It was fine. He was kind and gentle.”
Between nibbles on her biscuit, Emma said, “Good. Now let’s talk about this monstrous house. It needs a feminine touch. Has His Grace said anything about making changes?”
“Actually, he has.” Penelope looked around the drawing room. Although it was nice and cozy, it did need some updating and some brightening. Most all the rooms in the house were dreary. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”
“Say no more,” Bella added. “I will help you. Since I recently remodeled Northborough Estate, I have the perfect designer and carpenters for you. Shall I send them over?”
For the second time, Penelope nearly choked on her tea. “My goodness. I must discuss it with him. I don’t think he expects me to remodel immediately. I need to get acclimated to being the lady of the house first.”
“Sorry.” Bella turned serious. “I’ve been distracted of late and was hoping for something to do. Selfish of me. Please forgive me.”
Penelope had never seen Bella so somber and near tears before. Not that she’d known her all that long, but still. “When I do remodel, Bella, you will be the first person I contact for help. Meanwhile,” she paused and studied Bella, “is there something amiss with you?”
After several moments, she finally wiped a stray tear from her eyes. “I lost a babe last week.”
All three gasped. “Why didn’t you say something.” Amelia reached over and patted her sister on the knee.
“Because I had just confirmed it with the physician the week before. Hardly had time to get used to being with child and then…” She shook her head and wiped away her tears. “I’m fine. Myles took it hard. I know there will be more children, so that is what I’m looking ahead too. Also, I can’t wait until our Penelope has news for us.”
Third time she almost choked on her tea at the words coming out of her sister’s mouths. “Yes. Well. I don’t believe it happened last night. Doesn’t it take time?”
Three sets of eyes looked amusingly at her. However, Emma was the first to speak. “Sometimes all it takes is one time. Perhaps you will be one of the
fortunate brides to have conceived on your wedding night.”
When she caught her breath from a coughing fit, she said, “Enough. Please. Someone tell me some juicy gossip?”
“Rumor has it Penelope Seabrook wed the Duke of Newbury in a hurried ceremony. Gossips speculate they were found in a compromising situation and her reputation would be in ruin if they didn’t wed posthaste,” Bella said with a hand flick and a laugh. “Honest. It was in the paper this morning. You asked for gossip.”
Her stomach tightened. People were reading about her private life and gossiping about her and Newbury. And what they may or may not have done? Surely the privileged members of the ton had better things and people to gossip about. Her cheeks flamed. She hated people making speculations about her and Newbury. It was nobody’s business but theirs.
It wasn’t long after when her sisters and sister-in-law left and loneliness settled in. What would she do to occupy her time each day? She could only embroider so many handkerchiefs and needlepoint so many samplers and pillows. She’d never been one to nap in the afternoon. Perhaps she could take up watercolors. Silly, she’d never thought about painting before. She now had a life of leisure, she could do anything her heart desired.
Too bad the life of leisure didn’t suit her. She needed a cause. Yes. That was it. Emma’s cause of raising funds for the women and children in London. Too bad she hadn’t thought of it when Emma was here earlier. She hurried upstairs to her chambers, sat down at her desk, and penned a note to Emma asking if she could help.
Perfect. She had a cause now. Since she’d lived the life of a servant, someone without means and money, someone who relied on the goodwill of a vile viscount, Penelope knew there were plenty of others out there who had been wronged. She intended to find them and offer up help.
Would the duke allow her to? Now that they were married, did she need to ask his permission? If the charity was run by Emma, he could hardly disapprove, could he?
The Spy and His Lady Love Page 12