Penelope's Guardian (Promises Book 3)

by Laura Clarke

  “Yes, sir,” Clara said. The maid sobbed softly, and Penelope knew that her backside must look a mess now, as the rod came down over the already existing welts. The humiliation she felt was real, and it was much worse than the pain from the few strikes he’d landed. Many members of the staff had seen her naked bottom.

  “Come, miss,” Clara said. She offered her hand and Penelope took it. As she stood her skirts fell to the ground. Clara led her from the room and the staff that had gathered all stood to the side, their heads bowed.

  Penelope hated that they were deceiving the staff. These people had been like her family for years. They’d laughed at things together and they always treated her with respect. And here she was lying to them.

  Tears filled her eyes, not at her pain but at theirs. She and Emmett had not considered this sort of a reaction. All they’d thought about was trying to get to Clara. Which had worked, but it had additional reactions that might cause problems. Not for her, but for Emmett. But she supposed they would face that problem when it came around.

  They made their way up the stairs slowly, and when they were in her room, Penelope turned to Clara.

  “I need a handkerchief,” she said as she dabbed at her tears. Now that she was alone with Clara she needed to vamp up her acting skills.

  “Miss, I’m so sorry for what he did to you,” Clara said. She was crying, too. Penelope hoped that, maybe, just maybe, she would confess.

  “I have some salve for your bottom,” Clara said. “It’s made with roses and will help soothe the pain. Please lie down and I’ll go get it.

  This, too, would be a test. Did her bottom show enough welts for the amount of times Emmett had supposedly struck her? She couldn’t remember the number of times he’d hit the desk. Hopefully, it was dark enough that Clara wouldn’t be able to count the number of marks on her bottom.

  She sat down on her bed, then immediately jumped up and rubbed her bottom. He hadn’t hit her that hard, but it was enough to cause pain.

  Clara was back moments later, a jar in her hand.

  “Let’s get you out of your clothes,” she said as she set the salve on the bedside table. She helped Penelope out of her clothes and asked her to lie down on her stomach.

  Penelope did as she asked, and the first touch of the salve cooled her bottom.

  “What happened tonight, Penelope?” Clara asked.

  In keeping with the theme of trying to push Clara into confessing, Penelope told her the story, but she embellished many of the details. She heard the maid gasp when she told her about what had happened at the party. Of course, she left out the visit to the gaming hall. And the turns around the park.

  “Miss, I’m so sorry,” Clara said. Her voice shook a little, and Penelope thought she might tell all. But she did not.

  The fact that Clara called her Miss, and then Penelope, didn’t escape notice. Penelope hoped it meant she was wavering about whether to tell the truth or not.

  But she didn’t say anything. It was time to make her feel very guilty.

  “I may have to leave the house,” Penelope said. “He promised to care for me and this is how he does it, by birching me.” She turned her gaze to Clara. “Can you help me with that? Do you think I could find a place to go? I have very little money, until the will is read. Then I think I might have more.”

  Even in the darkness, Penelope could see the way Clara’s eyes lit up at the mention of money.

  “What about Mr. Bixley?” Clara said. “Hasn’t he offered to marry you? If you could run to Gretna Green, you would be out from under Sway’s command.”

  “True,” Penelope said. “I will try and meet him tomorrow. No, I will do more than try. I will do it.”

  “If I can do anything to help, Miss, I will do it,” Clara said. “Shall I get a message to him for you?”

  That would not help matters. If she carried a message from Penelope to Bixley she would have an excuse to be with him. Penelope didn’t want to give her that. She wanted Clara to go to the man on her own, to prove she was working with him.

  “Thank you but no, Clara,” Penelope said. “I will handle things on my own. I will find a way out of the house tomorrow and will go to his store. Hopefully he will be there waiting for me. Hopefully he will know that is where I will run to.”

  Was she being too obvious? She certainly hoped not.

  “As you wish, Miss,” Clara said. “Does your bottom feel better?”

  “It does,” Penelope said. “Thank you for your help. Now, you should go to bed. I may need your assistance tomorrow when I try to sneak out of the house. Something tells me Emmett will be watching my every move.”

  “I believe you are right,” Clara said. “Good night, Miss. I pray the pain is less for you tomorrow.”

  “So do I, Clara. Good night.”

  When the maid was gone, Penelope blew out the candle and hurried to the window. She looked down to see if there was any activity. If Clara went out to meet Bixley tonight, she would leave through the kitchen doors, and Penelope’s window looked down on that area.

  She’d stood there for about ten minutes when the door to her room opened.

  “Clara, did you forget something?” she asked.

  “No.” Emmett’s voice shocked her.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “I’m checking on you,” he said. “I worry that the pretend birching did a bit too much damage to your behind.”

  “You’re very kind, Milord,” she said. He had carried a candle into the room. “You should put that out. I’m watching through the window to see if Clara goes out to meet her lover.”

  “Tell me what happened when the two of you came up here,” he said.

  She told him the events, and then said, “I did right, didn’t I?”

  “You did,” he said. “But I think instead of you going to see him I should send him a note inviting him to tea.”

  “What?” She watched as he blew out the candle. She turned her gaze back to the window, hoping she hadn’t missed Clara’s exit.

  “I think we need one more confrontation to push him into action,” Emmett said. “He needs to be pushed to the limit. I want him to try to get in touch with Mary. I’m sure she has the books.”

  “Will you try to get in touch with Clark at the library?” she asked.

  “That is on the agenda for tomorrow,” he said. “I think Clark will be easier to break than Bixley. He seems the nervous sort.”

  “Let me talk to him,” she said. “I know him, and I can express concern about Mary. I think it would be easier for me to trip him up than it would be for you.”

  Her eyes had adjusted enough that she could see the smile on his face. “That is a good idea. Go first thing in the morning. Slip out of the house without telling Clara where you’re going. I want her nervous.”

  “As you wish,” Penelope said. “She seemed to be that way tonight. She was crying.”

  “Good,” Emmett said. “You’re right to watch for her. If she’s nervous she’ll be running to Bixley to see what she should do next.”

  He stepped up next to her. Penelope pushed the curtain aside and looked down. There was nothing there.

  “How is your bottom?” he asked. “I’m afraid I was a little too harsh on you.”

  She smiled up at him. “Thank you for your concern,” she said. “But I have had worse. My father birched me once. It was not pleasant.”

  “No, it is not.”

  Penelope looked back out the window and gasped. “She’s leaving.”

  “Are you sure it’s her?”

  “Yes, she’s wearing an old cloak of mine that I gave her when I bought my new one.” Thinking of that made Penelope angry. She’d given Clara the clothes off her back and she’d repaid her by taking part in this scheme.

  “Don’t let your mind dwell on such things,” he said. “We have bigger issues at hand.”

  “You’re right,” she said. “Should we follow her?”

  “Oh, I h
ave a man set up for that,” he said. “He will report back on where she goes and who she sees. I asked him to get close enough to overhear the conversation, but if they are doing it in the shop, or at Bixley’s home, there is no way he could.”

  “You’ve been working hard on this,” she said.

  “I prefer not to spend my life in Newgate,” he said.

  “Understandable,” she said. Clara had slipped from sight. “I have the urge to follow her myself. I want to scream at her and Bixley. It is not going to be easy to treat her as I have in the past.”

  “You will have to work hard on it,” he said. “Come, lie in the bed and let me inspect your bottom.”

  Penelope couldn’t have been more shocked if he asked her to strip, which, for all intents and purposes, he had.

  “I assure you, I’m fine,” she said.

  “I insist,” Emmett said. “Lie down on your belly, please. I know you say you are fine, but I want to see for myself.”

  She opened her mouth to object, but he leaned over so they were face to face.

  “Don’t make me rip off your clothes, Penelope. I want you on that bed, with your bottom half naked. Right now.”

  Chapter 6

  “You want me to do what?” Penelope looked back at the window; she took a deep breath and looked back at Emmett. “I don’t believe I heard you right.”

  “You heard me perfectly,” he said. “I want to inspect your bottom.”

  “And pigs want to fly, or so my father used to say.” She put her hands on her hips. “You saw my bottom earlier tonight, and that is quite enough for me. Now, tell me about the men you have following Clara.”

  “You are not giving the orders here, Penelope,” he said. “Get on the bed with your naked bottom in the air.”

  Why did those words send shivers up her spine? “May I remind you that you’ve already seen my bottom tonight, and placed welts upon it. Now, I am walking around and not crying, so that means that my bottom is fine. It doesn’t need inspecting. I would appreciate it if you would answer my question.”

  “You are not in charge here, Penelope.” He sat down in the chair near the desk and crossed one leg over the other. He looked so at home, as if this was his space and not hers.

  “Lord Emmett, ours is not that sort of relationship,” she said. “Please do not put me in this position.”

  “Please do not put me in the position of being worried that I caused irreparable harm to you,” he said. “It’s not as if you truly earned the birching. We set the scene up to set a trap for Clara. It worked. While she is gone I would like to make sure I did not do real damage to you.”

  “I told you to,” she said. Truly she didn’t want him to touch her bottom because of what she’d heard Andrew tell Parker at the gambling hall.

  “I’ve already seen your bottom,” he said. “I don’t understand your reluctance.”

  “It comes from knowing a man can take a woman that way, and I—it makes me nervous.”

  He took a step back, and she could see the look of confusion turn to anger. “You think I would force myself on you?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I’ve never been in this situation before. Well, except for the time…” She let her words drift off.

  “Yes?” He cocked his head. “Please continue.”

  She laughed nervously. “I suppose if you want to examine my bottom, I will allow it.”

  “We are not there yet,” he said. “I want to know what comes after except for the time. Are you lying to me when you say Bixley has not had you?”

  “I am a virgin, and that is the truth,” she said.

  “There are other things that can happen before a woman’s virginity is lost,” he said. “I think we’ve established he knows about those things. Now, what has he done to you?”

  “He’s kissed me,” she said.

  “And?”

  “He’s felt my breasts.”

  “And?”

  “That was it, I swear,” she said.

  “Did you like it?”

  She didn’t like that question, or the seductive tone of his voice. Why would he care if she liked it? She understood he would be angry if she had let go of her maidenhead, but why would he care about the other?

  “I’m waiting.”

  She felt cornered. No matter what she said, it would be the wrong thing.

  “Why do you want to know if I found pleasure when another man touched me?” It really didn’t make any sense to her.

  “Many women are immune to sexual feelings,” he said. “I want to know if you’re one of them. When your head landed on my cock I really couldn’t tell.”

  “Must you bring that up?” She straightened her shoulders.

  “Yes, I must,” he said. “You should be happy the conversation has taken this turn. After all, I’m not demanding you show me your ass anymore.”

  “Such a nasty word,” she said.

  “How about bum? Or arse? In the school I went to we just used ass,” he said.

  “How about bottom?”

  “That word works, but right now I would like an answer to the question as to whether or not you enjoyed Bixley’s touch.”

  This was a conversation that could get her into trouble. She needed to be very careful about what she said.

  “You’ve made so much about being my guardian, and keeping me out of trouble.” She made sure to keep her gaze on his eyes and not let them drift down to his lips. “This conversation is hardly appropriate.”

  “Very true,” he said. “But neither is this.”

  He closed the space between them in seconds and gathered her in his arms.

  “Did he kiss you like this?”

  She opened her mouth to object, but before words came out he was kissing her. He took advantage of her open mouth to push his tongue into her mouth, probing and claiming her. No, Bixley’s kiss had not raised the sensations that were currently running through her body, making her nipples hard and quim wet.

  She should be trying to push him away, try to get away from him. Instead she melted into his chest. At least she did until he broke the kiss and took a step back.

  “Well, that answers that question.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Good night. I’ll see you at breakfast.”

  Penelope stared at his backside as he walked toward the door. “Where are you going?”

  “It’s been a long night and I’m tired,” he said. “Good night, Penelope. Sweet dreams.”

  The door was closed before she could respond in kind. She ran her hands down her sides and wondered what had just happened. Her body was more awake than it had ever been, and she wasn’t sure how to put it to sleep. There was no way she would be able to sleep now.

  She paced, trying to figure out what game Emmett was playing. Why did he kiss her? More to the point, why didn’t he touch her breasts? She wanted him to.

  “He can go to the devil,” she said as she sat down on her bed. The pain in her bottom made her jump up and rub her bruised flesh. She wanted to run out and find Clara, despite the fact it was the middle of the night. But she knew that wasn’t a good idea.

  She needed to wait until tomorrow and talk to Clara while she was getting ready for breakfast. Then, maybe she would talk her maid into going to the library with her. If indeed they were all working together, there was every chance her appearance would throw Clark for a loop. Maybe Clark would tell something he knew if he were rattled.

  Once she was settled in the bed, on her side because being on her back was not pleasant, she tried to fall asleep, but her mind kept racing, not about the library visit, but about the feel of Emmett’s lips against hers, and how she could get him to caress her breasts.

  “Such a beautiful morning, isn’t it?” Penelope held her head high, even though the two ladies walking behind her and Clara had been whispering about her ever since they’d gotten out of the carriage a few doors down from the library. She’d heard the word, “loose,” bantered about.

  “It
is indeed, Miss,” Clara said, and then she yawned.

  “Did you not sleep well last night?” Penelope asked.

  “I was worried about you, Miss,” Clara said. “Are you sure you’re feeling all right?”

  “I’m fine,” Penelope said. She’d tried to start a conversation with Clara that morning, but the maid had been reluctant to speak. She’d been very quiet while she’d helped Penelope bathe and dress. It wasn’t as if Penelope could come out and ask her how her midnight stroll had been. She wasn’t supposed to know Clara had left the house.

  When Penelope had asked her to go to the library with her, Clara had expressed shock. “You’ve never wanted me to go out with you,” Clara had responded.

  “True, but usually I went with Mary, and since she is not here she can’t go.” Penelope had tried to put sorrow in her voice. “I don’t want to go by myself. Please go with me.”

  Clara had continued to resist, until Penelope said, “I am so sore from last night, and I want to get away from Lord Emmett. I don’t want to be alone. People will be talking about me, and I’ll need someone to support me.”

  Clara had nodded. “Very well, Miss,” she’d said.

  So here they were, inches away from the library. She wished that Emmett had given her a few clues about how to proceed once she arrived, but he’d said nothing, except to talk about the food.

  “Firm eggs are the best,” he’d said. “You should have some. Soft eggs do not set well with some people.”

  “Eggs?” What was he talking about? They needed to talk about how she would get Clark to give her information on Mary, and he was talking about firm eggs. If he didn’t want to talk about how she would gather information, he could talk about the kiss he’d given her last night. Her toes still tingled from the memory. She wasn’t sure how to bring it up, though. If she thought about it hard enough hopefully she would be able to come up with something by tonight.

  “What book are you looking for, Miss?” Clara asked as they stepped through the door.

  “I don’t have a certain book in mind, Clara,” she’d said. “I browse until something strikes my fancy.”

  The tinkling bell brought a clerk out from behind the desk. Penelope was happy to see it was Clark.