The Unexpected Bride (11 page)

As for Peter, he found his wife’s innocent response to his advances a revealing experience. The relationship he had enjoyed with Lady Caroline and other even less respectable partners since his first wife’s defection; had not prepared him for the protective instinct aroused by Penelope’s timid return of his embrace. Her mouth was unbelievably sweet. He was ashamed when he recalled how brutally he had taken it the previous day. Now his mouth moved gently yet passionately over hers as his arm tightened around her waist. The other hand slid over the curve of her breast under the muslin gown and he felt her gasp in surprise. Reluctantly he released her. He wanted to bed her, most certainly, but for her sake he did not want to rush his fences.

‘Thank you, Penelope. I…I…think we should return to the house,’ he said. His voice betrayed his confusion. Dear God, he wanted her so much. It would
be torture to know she was asleep in the bedroom next to his, that all he had to do was walk through the connecting door and get into her bed. He remembered how lovely he had thought her when he’d put her to bed last night, still with the tears on her cheeks. It had been impossible to resist the temptation to caress one of those delicate white breasts, and she had smiled so tenderly in her sleep!

Penelope rose slowly to her feet, rather surprised to discover that her legs would still obey her commands. She did not know what to say. His kiss had left her shaken physically and with her emotions in a whirl. The feelings he had aroused in her were beyond her comprehension. Her gasp when he touched her breast had been one of pleasure, and she wondered if her response had disgusted him. On the whole she thought not, he had released her very gently, not at all as though he were angry.

Peter’s thoughts were also in turmoil, but of a different kind. A nasty suspicious voice in his mind was warning him to watch his step, that he was becoming interested in his wife as a person, perhaps even as a lover. Better not to care, just be civilised, keep a distance. Remember Melissa. You don’t want to make the same mistake twice. But she’s not like Melissa, he argued. Melissa had been a virgin, certainly, but she had not been the total innocent this girl was. The nagging doubts persisted. Perhaps it would be better to keep some emotional distance between them.

By the time they reached the house Penelope was aware of Peter’s change of attitude. His manner towards her was still friendly but he made no attempt to win her confidences, merely speaking of the route they
were taking back to the house. She was a little saddened by this, assuming that somehow she had caused his withdrawal, and decided firmly that she had better not become too attached to her incalculable husband!

A
month later Darleston sat in his sunny breakfast parlour consuming a plate of ham and eggs, wondering if he would see his wife at breakfast or indeed at all that day! In the time since their wedding the couple had made very little progress in their relationship. Peter acknowledged to himself that this was his fault.

For perhaps a week Penelope had tried very hard to get to know him and he had politely rebuffed her every time. Then she had given up and had appeared to avoid his company. After a week of being effectually ignored, Peter had begun to feel piqued and had made tentative advances, hoping to mend the breach.

Penelope it seemed, had other ideas. She had made it quite clear that she had plenty to do and was not pining for his company! She spent a great deal of time with his housekeeper, learning the ways of the house, and even more time in the drawing room, playing the piano. He had frequently paused outside the door to enjoy the music, knowing from experience that if he went in she would not continue past the end of the movement.

‘Good morning, Penelope,’ said Peter now, looking
up from his letters as his wife entered the breakfast parlour with Gelert. ‘Did you sleep well?’

‘Very well, thank you, Peter.’ answered Penelope.

Peter rose to his feet to help her to a chair and bestowed a pat upon Gelert, who had completely accepted him as a friend. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’

‘Yes, please.’

He poured one for her, saying as he passed it to her, ‘There you are, my dear. Are you very busy today? I thought we might go for a drive together.’

‘That is very kind of you, Peter, but I will be in the stillroom for much of the day. Perhaps another time.’

‘As you please.’

Having seen that Penelope had everything she needed, Peter continued reading his correspondence, feeling that he had perhaps been too thorough in avoiding any emotional involvement with his wife! Despite the fact that she generally used his Christian name in private, the polite formality of her manner always made it
sound
as though she were calling him my lord.

To make matters worse for Peter, he was having a great deal of difficulty remaining on his side of the door which connected their rooms. He was not sleeping particularly well, and when he did sleep he was disturbed by dreams which made it even harder not to be able to go through that door. He had not attempted to kiss her since that first day in the garden and the memory of her response haunted him.

It was difficult to believe that the remote girl on the other side of the table had responded so sweetly to his embrace. She seemed as distant and cool as the moon. Peter gazed at her in frustration as she sat in the sunlight from the window, munching a scone and sipping
her tea. Her dark red hair showed gleams of copper in the light and there was a slight tinge of pink in her usually pale cheeks.

Penelope was perfectly aware of Peter’s scrutiny, as she always was. It was not distaste for his company that made her avoid him, but a profound distrust of her own feelings. She was uncomfortably aware it would be only too easy to fall in love with her husband. Obviously that was the last thing he wanted. He had made no further attempt to kiss her, or to do anything else a marriage should involve, so she must assume that either he was not attracted to her or that she had disgusted him. Therefore it would be most unwise to indulge in any affection for him. She continued to sip her tea, conscious of her husband’s regard but utterly unconscious of the fact that he was jealous of the teacup.

‘I have received a letter from George Carstares. Would you object if he came to stay, Penelope?’

‘Not at all, Peter. I should like to know your friends. When will he arrive?’

‘I shall write telling him to come when he likes, which means he will come as soon as he receives my reply, in all probability.’

‘Then I shall inform Mrs Bates and ask her to have a room made ready for him at once. I am glad you will have some company.’ Having finished her breakfast, Penelope arose. ‘If you will excuse me, Peter, I will go about my day now.’

‘A moment please, Penelope, if you would not mind.’ Peter had made up his mind swiftly; he must try to breach the gap between them.

She turned towards him with a questioning look on
her face, said, ‘Very well, my lord,’ and sat down again.

He winced at the chilling formality of her response, which made it quite clear she waited from duty, not inclination. For a moment he hesitated, before saying, ‘I would very much like you to come for that drive with me, my dear. We seem to see very little of each other and I grudge your company to the stillroom and Mrs Bates. Besides, Gelert will enjoy the run!’ Gelert, hearing his name coupled with the word ‘run’, uttered an enthusiastic bark and wagged his tail.

‘You really want me to come out with you?’ Penelope was surprised. Always before he had accepted her refusals with equanimity, which had reinforced her belief that he preferred it that way and merely requested her company out of duty.

‘Yes, I do want your company, Penelope. I think it is time you met some of my tenants. As my wife that is one your duties,’ he said, wondering just how he should go about convincing her that it was time she fulfilled all her wifely duties.

‘If that is your wish, Peter, of course I will accompany you. When do you wish to set off?’

‘I should finish reading my letters and reply to some of them…an hour from now shall we say?’ answered Peter, glancing idly at the rest of his letters.

One of them caught his attention. ‘Oh, here is a letter for you, Penelope, from your mother!’

‘From Mama? Please read it to me, Peter!’ said Penelope in unabashed delight.

‘Read it to you?’ It had not occurred to Peter that he would have to read his wife’s correspondence.

Misunderstanding his exclamation, Penelope blushed. ‘I beg your pardon, my lord. I will ask Ellen
to read it for me if you are too busy.’ She went to Peter’s side and held out her hand for the letter.

Realising that he had unintentionally hurt her, Peter ignored her outstretched hand and slipped his arm about her waist. ‘Silly child, of course I’m not too busy! It was just that I had not really thought about how you were to read your letter. Come, sit down again and I’ll read it for you at once.’ Before she could protest he had pulled her onto his lap. ‘There! Comfortable? I do hope your mama hasn’t written anything too personal! What should I do if she has, my dear?’

Stunned to find herself sitting in her husband’s lap, with his arm around her waist, Penelope was taken off her guard and answered without thinking, ‘Don’t listen, of course!’ Peter burst out laughing.

‘I suppose I could try that, or shutting my eyes might help!’ He opened the letter and began to read aloud.

‘“Dear Penny, Thank you for your note letting us know you are well—” Did you write, Penelope?’ Peter was very surprised.

‘Yes, just a short note to say I was well. I can write if I am very careful and don’t rush. Ellen addressed it for me. I asked her to post it when she went to the village. Should I not have done so?’

‘You most certainly should not!’ said Peter. ‘Why didn’t you get a frank from me, and leave it on the table in the hall, you silly girl? Your mother will think I won’t let you write to her!’

Penelope blinked. ‘A frank! Oh, dear, I forgot you could give me one. I hope she didn’t think that you are a sort of Bluebeard! Perhaps I’d better write again.’

‘I think you should, or I’ll have that ferocious
brother-in-law of yours down upon me!’ teased Peter. ‘Now, where was I? Ah, yes. “Could his lordship not give you a frank?”—see! “Or did you merely forget that he could do so? Sarah gives it as her opinion that Darleston has you locked in a dungeon and that you were forced to write the letter. I think it was a mistake permitting her to read
The Mysteries of Udolpho
and Richard has apologised for giving it to her. I suggested that if Darleston had wished to behave in such a dastardly fashion he probably would have franked the letter and made you write more, but she informed us that criminals always make one fatal error and that this is his. She was more convinced by Richard’s comment that Darleston would have chosen a really wealthy victim like Emily if he’d wanted to behave like Montoni!”’

Peter had to stop reading at this point, to regain some control over his voice. ‘Good God, what an imagination! Penelope, you are to write immediately! I intended to offer my services as your amanuensis, but no doubt that will afford your sister fresh grounds for suspicion. Stop laughing, girl, this is my reputation at stake!’

Penelope tried to contain her mirth, but failed totally. Peter was delighted to see her quiet reserve shattered and continued with the letter.

Peter was silent for a moment after finishing the letter. Penelope was leaning confidingly against him, smiling tenderly at her own thoughts. He studied her delicate profile, delighting in her proximity. Gently he reached up to stroke her cheek, marvelling at its softness. Startled out of her thoughts, she turned to him enquiringly. He gave her a hug and said, ‘Perhaps we should write to your family this evening to allay the fears your little sister entertains.’

Unable to resist the temptation to tease him, Penelope said, ‘Goodness no! She’ll enjoy it far more if we fuel her suspicions. It will be a very good idea for you to write the letter and me merely to sign it! Think what a thrill for her to be the heroine and to dream of rescuing me from your clutches!’

‘Thanks very much. My clutches don’t seem to be that unbearable to you!’ said Peter in amusement. ‘If we do that she will probably disguise herself as a boy and run away to rescue you. I shall give her a copy of
Northanger Abbey
at the first opportunity!’

‘What’s that about?’ asked Penelope curiously.

‘A young lady who reads too many sensational novels,
The Mysteries of Udolpho
in particular, and allows
too free a rein to her fancies! It was written by the same woman who wrote
Pride and Prejudice
and
Mansfield Park.
Do you know them?’

‘Mama read
Pride and Prejudice
aloud to us. We all liked it.’

‘Good! I shall recommend
Northanger Abbey
with a clear conscience.’ He stood up and set Penelope gently on her feet. ‘Come along, Penelope. If we are to go for our drive I had better finish the rest of these letters and write to George at least. That is, if you really don’t mind him visiting us. Shall we invite Sarah later on as well—just to lull her suspicions of course!’

Penelope’s face plainly mirrored her delight. ‘Could we. Peter? I mean, I’m sure she doesn’t really believe you are a villain, but I should like to see her.’

‘Of course you may invite her,’ said Peter, happy to have hit on such a simple way of pleasing her. Surely now they would go on better than they had been doing. He held the door open for her and watched her departure with Gelert, an odd smile on his face. Slowly he walked to the study, still chuckling at the letter Penelope had received.

Penelope came to seek him out an hour later, ready to go for their drive. She had spent a great deal of time discussing her bonnet with Ellen and was feeling particularly frustrated that she could not judge the effect for herself. She knocked at the study door shyly, amazed at the slight feeling of breathlessness that took hold of her as she heard his deep voice. ‘Come in, Penelope.’

Peter looked up from his desk as she entered and smiled. ‘Ready, my dear? My letters are finished, so we shall go?’ He added, ‘You look charming in that
bonnet.’ She did. The bonnet framed her face and the dark green ribbons that were tied under her chin emphasised the fairness of her complexion.

Penelope did not really know how to respond to the compliment. She wondered why he was being friendly again and how long it would last. ‘Thank you,’ she said at last, feeling that she must say something.

Peter led her out to the waiting phaeton and lifted her up into it effortlessly. Penelope trembled as she felt his hands encircle her waist. She told herself fiercely to stop being silly. After all he was only lifting her into a carriage!

Peter told himself exactly the same thing, and reminded himself that an open carriage, especially with a groom up behind, was not a good place to make love to a girl, even if she was your wife.

He leapt up into the vehicle, trying very hard not to think about the delicious curve of Penelope’s waist, or how she had sat in his lap while he read her letter. It would be positively dangerous to dwell on such thoughts while driving a high-couraged pair like his matched greys!

The drive was very pleasant. They called at several farms on the estate, and while Peter discussed the crops and harvest with the farmers Penelope was entertained by their wives. She discovered that Peter was looked up to as a good landlord and that he was genuinely concerned with the welfare of his tenants. The last farm they visited was particularly interesting.

‘We may not be able to stay long here, Penelope,’ said Peter. ‘Jewkes got married last year and his wife is expecting their first baby very soon. As a matter of fact she is Ellen’s sister!’

‘Peter, if only you’d told me I could have brought a note from Ellen,’ said Penelope.

‘I’m sorry, dear, I didn’t think. But at least you may take a message back,’ he apologised.