Where The Heart Leads (44 page)

He studied her eyes, then looked ahead as he steered her around the turn. They drew parallel with the door, and he stopped, opened it, whirled her through, closed it behind them—swept her into his arms and kissed her witless.

Then
they escaped.

As he’d already learned, regardless of the subject, their two minds were always better than one.

Two months later
London

I
ncidentally, Stokes sent word this morning—Cameron has departed these shores.” Barnaby looked up from the news sheet he was perusing while savoring his morning coffee.

Seated at the other end of the table in the breakfast parlor of their recently acquired town house in Albemarle Street, Penelope glanced up, gaze distant…then she nodded and went back to the list she was composing.

Barnaby grinned, lifted his cup, and sipped. It was one of the things he adored about her—she never expected him to regale her with witticisms or anything else over the breakfast cups. In return, she never filled his ears with mindless chatter.

In contented appreciation, he let his gaze rest on her dark head for a moment, then returned to his news sheet.

They’d entertained Stokes and Griselda over an intimate dinner only yesterday. If anyone had told him his wife would be instrumental in drawing his and Stokes’s lives closer, facilitating their friendship—that both their wives would—he’d have thought that person demented. But Penelope and Griselda were firm friends and had long ago dispensed with all class-based barriers. He and Penelope dined at the little house in Greenbury Street, around the corner from Grisel
da’s shop, that Stokes had bought for his bride, every bit as frequently as the other two dined with them.

Penelope had even mastered the art of eating mussels.

Mostyn appeared with more toast. As he set the trivet by Penelope’s elbow, she glanced up, pushing her spectacles higher on her nose. “I’ll be going to the Foundling House this morning, Mostyn. Please tell Cuthbert I’ll need the carriage in half an hour.”

“Very good, ma’am. I’ll have Sally get your coat and muff.”

“Thank you.” Penelope returned to her list.

With a correct nod to Barnaby, Mostyn withdrew. Although he didn’t smile, there was a spring in his step.

His lips gently curving, Barnaby gazed again at Penelope. When she straightened, considering her list, then laid down her pencil, he asked, “How are Dick and Jemmie coming along?”

She looked up, and smiled. “Very well, I’m pleased to say. They’ve finally become just another two of the ‘lads.’ Englehart says they’re applying themselves to their lessons. Apparently ever since the idea of training to be constables was mooted, his entire class have been exemplary pupils.”

Jemmie had quietly asked Barnaby, on one of his now frequent visits to the Foundling House, if it was possible for boys like him to become constables. After assuring him it was, Barnaby had mentioned the matter to Penelope—who with her customary zeal had taken up the idea and promptly recruited his father to the cause of setting up some sort of apprentice scheme for constables.

Recollections of his father’s bemusement when she’d first told him what she wanted him to do floated pleasantly through his mind.

Picking up her pencil, Penelope returned to her list of matters she needed to attend to that day. She was perfectly aware of Barnaby’s gaze, of its quality as it rested on her. Perhaps not yet the abiding adoration she’d seen in Lord Paignton’s eyes, but it seemed to her an excellent start; she basked in it and quietly held it to her heart.

All in all, marrying Barnaby Adair had been an excellent decision. A wise choice. The only concession she’d had to make was to take him with her whenever she went into dangerous areas, which was no hardship at all, and if he was not available, her coachman and two—not one but two—grooms.

She’d agreed to the latter stipulation without quibble. As in all else, he wasn’t seeking to restrict her, but to protect her.

Because she was so important to him.

That,
she’d decided, she could accept with perfect equanimity.

“I meant to remind you.” She looked up and met his eyes. “Your mother has asked us to dinner tonight. I’m not sure who else will be there, but I’ll send Mostyn around to find out. Regardless, we should go.”

Looking down, she added the order to Mostyn to her list. “You and your father can talk business—and then I can pester him about our apprentice scheme. With any luck Huntingdon or one of the other commissioners will be there, too, so we can kill two or more birds with one stone, so to speak.”

Barnaby smiled, a gesture that only deepened as he imagined his mother’s consternation on finding her select dinner party put to such use—and her recently discovered helplessness in the face of Penelope’s single-minded drive. “Yes, of course. I’ll be home in good time.”

He’d avoided his mother’s, and indeed the ton’s, invitations for years, but with Penelope by his side, he was perfectly happy to attend as she wished.

She was the perfect wife for him; not even his mother doubted it. Which left him in the enviable position of being able to leave all tonnish females, his mother included, to Penelope to manage. All he had to do was sit back, watch the action, and enjoy her machinations and their outcomes.

Since marrying her he’d learned what true contentment was.

Now he’d given his life, and his love, into her keeping, all was indeed—truly and at last—absolutely well in his world.

New York Times
bestselling author
S
TEPHANIE
L
AURENS
began writing as an escape from the dry world of professional science. Her hoppy quickly became a career. Her novels set in Regency England have captivated readers around the globe, making her one of the romance world's most beloved and popular authors. Laurens lives in Melbourne, Australia, with her husband and two daughters.

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This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

WHERE THE HEART LEADS
. Copyright © 2008 by Stephanie Laurens. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

Microsoft Reader December 2007 ISBN 978-0-06-157704-8

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