The Unexpected Bride (13 page)

Coming up to bed an hour later, Peter stood at the open connecting door to gaze at his sleeping wife. He too was feeling frustrated, and the confused look of pain on Penelope’s face when he thrust her away refused to be banished from his mind. Why, he asked himself, couldn’t he initiate a physical relationship with his wife without all these unwelcome emotions creeping in? Perhaps it would be safer not to take her to bed if it was going to stir up feelings best forgotten? But he had to take her to bed if he wanted an heir! Blast it all, why did she have to be so sweet, so damned responsive and yielding? He didn’t want to care for the girl. He liked her very much; she was a charming companion. That was all he wanted to feel!

P
enelope entered the breakfast parlour the next morning determined to try and recapture the friendliness of the previous day. She had taken particular care with her choice of gown, selecting a dark blue morning dress which Ellen and the housekeeper assured her was most becoming. Her efforts were not entirely wasted.

Peter looked up as she entered and caught his breath. The deep blue emphasised the fairness of her complexion. Her hair was caught at the nape of her neck with a wide blue bow and lay carelessly over one shoulder, the burnished curls blazing against the dark fabric. An affectionate smile hovered around the delicately cut lips. He remembered how they had yielded to his demands the evening before…soft, trembling…Hell and damnation! He wouldn’t think of it! He would not be undone by a pretty face again!

‘Good morning, Peter.’

‘My lady.’ He rose and pulled out a chair for her. ‘I trust you slept well?’

‘Er…yes,’ she lied gallantly. In truth she had not slept well at all. Nervously she seated herself. The
formality of her husband’s greeting chilled her. His tone was simply arctic.

‘Would you like a cup of tea?’

‘Thank you, my lord.’

He poured it and passed it to her, trying to ignore his conscience, which told him that he was behaving badly. He retired into his newspaper.

Penelope tried again. ‘I did enjoy the drive yesterday, Peter. If you are going again, may I come?’

‘I will be going on horseback today. It will waste less time.’

He looked into her face. For one fleeting instant he thought he saw her mouth tremble, but then an expression of cold indifference settled over her face. ‘I beg your pardon, my lord.’ She would not try again; his rejection hurt too much and it was too much like begging. Next time he invited her out he could go to the devil!

The following hour found Penelope in a restless mood, longing to go out. She tried to concentrate on her music but found the charms of Handel were nothing compared to the prospect of exercise. A ride would have been enjoyable, even on the inevitable leading rein. She told herself firmly that it was merely for Gelert’s sake that she wanted to escape from the house. Innate honesty forced her to admit to herself that she had wanted to spend time with her husband.

The memory of his passionate kisses the previous night had disturbed her sleep. He had been so gentle, yet demanding. He had even said that he wanted her! Her fingers slowed on the keys as she dwelt on the memory. What had she done wrong? She longed for the courage to ask him, but his greeting at breakfast had been so distant and icy. A waste of time! What
on earth was wrong with the man? One moment he behaved as though he liked her, the next as though she were a nuisance.

A rebellious thought crept into her mind. Why should she not go out? After all, she did not have to wait on Peter’s pleasure for her entertainment! One of the grooms could just as easily escort her! Her decision made, she closed the piano, and went to change.

Ellen was predictably horrified. ‘Riding? But, milady, what will the master say?’

‘The master,’ said Penelope between her teeth, ‘may go to the devil! Please just find my riding habit.’

Ellen did as she was bid, reflecting that her mistress surely couldn’t come to much harm on a leading rein. The head groom, Johnson, was very reliable. But what the master was going to say she hardly dared to think!

The master, having spent a busy morning visiting tenants and discussing improvements to his estate and crops for the coming winter, was startled to say the least at the sight which met his eyes as he rode homewards across the park. His wife, atop his favourite retired hunter, with his head groom and her dog in attendance, was cantering off goodness knew where!

Good God, what the hell did Johnson think he was up to? Swearing under his breath, Peter galloped his mare over to intercept them.

Hearing the hoofbeats, Johnson turned around and immediately said, ‘We’d best stop a moment, your ladyship. The master is back and he’s coming this way.’

Penelope bit back the very unladylike rejoinder which rose to her lips and merely said, ‘Very well. Perhaps his lordship wishes to join us.’

Observing the grim look upon the Earl’s face, Johnson could think of nothing less likely. Gloomily
he wondered just why he had let his mistress cajole him into this foolishness and whether the master would give him a reference or not.

Penelope on the other hand was quite calm. She was determined to give as good as she got. After all, he had not told her that she might not ride any of his horses! It occurred to her that Johnson might be in a certain amount of trouble, however.

‘Don’t worry, Johnson. It will be me he’ll be annoyed with. I’ll tell him you didn’t like the idea,’ she said encouragingly.

‘I’d appreciate that, milady!’

Peter pulled the mare in beside his errant bride and her escort and glared at them.

‘What the devil do you think you’re doing?’

His head groom wilted at the outrage in his voice, but Penelope faced him squarely with her chin up and answered in dulcet tones, ‘Riding, my lord. Do you care to join me? I understood you to be otherwise engaged this morning, but if you have finished your business early and would not be wasting your time of course you are most welcome.’

He stared at her and said angrily, ‘I do not consider it safe for you to be on horseback, my lady. You will please oblige me by returning to the stables at once. And as for you, Johnson, you must be out of your mind!’

Penelope sniffed disdainfully. ‘My lord, I have been riding since I was a little girl. If my parents saw no need for me to stop when I lost my eyesight, I can see no reason for you to concern yourself with my safety. Johnson merely obeyed my orders in saddling a suitable horse and accompanying me. You had given no contrary orders, so you can scarcely blame him.’

Unable to think of a single answer which would not shock his servant, Peter was at a loss for a moment. Then he said curtly, ‘Change horses with me, Johnson. Griselda is too lively to lead another horse from. I will take your mistress for a ride.’ He suited the action to the word and dismounted.

Johnson obeyed, and gave the reins of his quiet hack to the Earl, who vaulted effortlessly into the saddle. He took the leading rein and said, ‘You may return to the stables, Johnson.’ Then, seeing the woebegone look on the man’s face, ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake man! You can’t imagine that I’d sack you for obeying orders!’

‘Yes, sir! I mean, no, sir. Thank you, sir!’ Johnson mounted and set off, leaving the Earl and his unrepentant Countess confronting one another.

Peter drew a deep breath and said, ‘Shall we go, my lady?’

‘Certainly, my lord.’

Peter pressed his mount into a trot, observing that his bride sat the old hunter with easy confidence.

‘In future, Lady Darleston, I would appreciate it if you checked with me before setting my household by the ears!’ The fury in his quiet voice was unmistakable. Inwardly she quaked but lifted her chin even higher, facing him defiantly.

‘Indeed, my lord? I cannot conceive what concern it is of yours how I choose to spend my time, always provided I do not waste yours, of course!’ she replied.

‘You are my wife! Of course I am concerned with your safety!’ he said furiously.

‘Oh. I’m afraid that didn’t occur to me, my lord. I was not aware that you had any interest whatsoever.’

Her air of calm detachment galled him. Damn it,
the impertinent chit had as good as told him to mind his own business! Despite his anger he had to acknowledge that her seat on a horse was magnificent. She rode so well that he could understand her reluctance to give up after her accident. He decided that there was nothing to be gained in arguing the point. Obviously she was quite capable of controlling a horse and he was making a fool of himself.

‘Well, you are obviously able to handle a horse. As long as you ride with either myself or Johnson you should be safe enough. Believe it or not, I do take an interest in your well-being!’

‘How kind of you, my lord. However, I beg that you will not concern yourself with me. I shall be more than happy to ride out with Johnson. You must have a great deal of estate business to occupy your time.’ Her voice spoke volumes of indifference she was far from feeling. The thought that he would offer to spend time with her as an unwelcome duty stung her pride unbearably.

Peter immediately realised that he had offended her deeply. He changed the subject at once. ‘How do you find Nero’s paces, Penelope?’

‘Very comfortable, my lord.’

He winced at the formality of her reply but forbore to comment upon it. After all, he had started it!

She continued, ‘Johnson informed me that Nero is practically retired but is the most reliable mount in the stables.’

‘He certainly is,’ said Peter with a fond glance at his old friend. ‘I rode him at Waterloo. But for him and George Carstares I should have been killed.’ He was silent for a moment, reliving the battle, lost in a haze of smoke, the roar of guns and the screams of
dying men and horses. He shook his head to dispel the hellish vision.

‘What happened, Peter?’ Her voice was gentler, drew him back. Something in his voice had told her that the horror of the things he had seen that day would live with him for ever.

After a moment he went on. ‘I was rallying my men. They were in a square, holding their ground, but the French columns kept coming. There were shots flying everywhere but Nero was as steady as though he’d been in his stable. Finally a musket ball hit me. All I remember is a pain in my side and lying in the mud, staring up at Nero’s belly. The men said it was the strangest thing they ever saw. Any other horse would have taken to his heels, but he stood right over me until our men managed to beat back the French. Otherwise I would have been trampled.’

‘And Mr Carstares?’ prompted Penelope softly.

‘George saw it happen. When he could, he fought his way to me and got me back on Nero, had one of the men lead me to the rear.’

Penelope was silent for a moment. Perhaps his anger had simply been at seeing her on a horse he must regard as very special. Eventually she said, ‘I’m sorry I rode Nero without your permission, Peter. I can understand that you would prefer no one else to ride him.’

‘It’s no matter Penelope,’ said Peter in embarrassment. ‘He needs to be ridden, and since he is getting on a bit now I don’t ride him as much as I used to. If you will exercise him I shall be glad of it. I still ride him occasionally, for old time’s sake, but otherwise please consider him as your own.’

‘Thank you, Peter.’

They rode on in silence. When Peter spoke again he had reverted to formal indifference. With a sigh Penelope gave up trying to regain lost ground. If his lordship wished for a relationship distinguished by cool propriety he should have it!

The following morning Penelope arose and sent a message to the stables to find out when it would be convenient for Johnson to ride out with her. The answer came back before she was out of her bath that Johnson would be at her disposal whenever she wished.

Penelope thought about this carefully as she dried herself. ‘Very well, Ellen. Please lay out my riding habit, and then when I am dressed you may send someone to tell Johnson that I shall be down directly after breakfast.’

‘Yes, my lady.’

‘And, Ellen.’

‘My lady?’

‘I think I will go for a good long walk after my ride and take something with me to eat. Just fruit, bread and cheese will do, and whatever you would like to eat if you will come with me.’

Ellen blinked in surprise. ‘Don’t you think you’ll get tired, my lady?’ Then, remembering her place, ‘I mean, of course I’ll come, but…’

Penelope set her jaw and said firmly, ‘No buts. Just lay out my habit and think about what you’d like to eat for lunch!’

Ellen did as she was told and shortly, arrayed for riding, Penelope made her way down to the breakfast parlour. As she passed along the corridors and galleries she told herself firmly that she would
not,
absolutely would
not
give her husband the slightest reason
to think she cared about his attitude towards her. If he felt like being friendly, or even amorous, she would simply be polite. Constant rejections when she overstepped some invisible boundary were too hurtful.

It did not occur to her that Peter was the one who kept on stepping over the emotional boundaries which he had set for their relationship.

Peter rose to his feet at her entrance and laid down his morning paper. ‘Good morning, Penelope. Would you care for a cup of tea?’

‘Thank you, my lord, that would be lovely.’ She congratulated herself silently on the cool, but polite tone of her voice.

It was on the tip of Peter’s tongue to remonstrate with her for being so formal but he decided to let it pass. Something in her face warned him to tread warily. She was wearing what her mother and sisters would have described as ‘Penny’s keep-out look’.

He poured her tea and set it down before her. Observing the snugly fitted habit, he enquired, ‘Were you planning to ride this morning Penelope?’

‘Thank you, my lord. Yes, I have sent a message down to the stables and Johnson is expecting me after breakfast.’

Peter sat down and thought about this. He knew perfectly well that he had behaved badly the previous day and that he should offer to escort his wife, but her very next words showed how little that would be appreciated.

‘I think I shall enjoy riding out with Johnson,’ she said sweetly. ‘He seems very easy to talk to. And afterwards Ellen and I are going to take Gelert for a long walk with a picnic lunch.’

‘Good heavens, girl! You’ll be exhausted!’ he exclaimed before he could stop himself.

Penelope looked amused and replied, ‘You must not concern yourself about me. I am perfectly capable of judging how far I can ride or walk.’ And, changing the subject, ‘How are you spending the day, my lord?’

‘Estate matters. I have to see a tenant. If you would care to join me…’

He got no further. ‘How kind, my lord, but I am sure that Johnson will prove an acceptable escort. And of course I would not wish to be in your way.’