Love Forever After Read online

  Penelope returned the countess’s frank stare. Lady Larchmont appeared twenty years younger than her lanky earl, but she was still not a young woman. If her chestnut hair held hints of gray, she had succeeded in concealing them, but she could not hide the fine lines etched at the corners of her eyes and lips. Still, the countess was an attractive woman.

  With her new-found awareness of sexual tension, Penelope understood some of the relation between Graham and her hostess. At one time or another they had shared a liaison. Whether of short or long duration, she was not prepared to speculate. Just the knowledge of it shook her secure world a little more. Graham had told her things were different in his world, but she had not felt the impact until now.

  “Graham is not one to be led about by a woman, I fear,” Penelope managed to murmur in response. “My influence on the matter was slight.”

  The countess spared them both a smile. “You don’t deserve her, Trev. You will favor us later this evening with all the sordid details of how she nursed you back to health, won’t you?”

  “I’ll do no such thing, Matilda,” Graham answered. “We have provided enough entertainment for one evening.” He turned to the earl. “With your permission, sir, I will lead your lady on the floor. I know you are eager for your card game.”

  “Quite right. Quite right. But I’ll help do the honor. Lady Trevelyan?” He tilted precariously in Penelope’s direction.

  Penelope took his bony arm, and they followed Graham and Lady Larchmont onto the floor. She knew Guy and Dolly brought up the rear, but she felt strangely isolated as the musicians struck up a quadrille. The feeling didn’t last long, but she knew their foursome was the focus of attention for those remaining along the walls.

  Graham’s lame leg made his dancing a good deal less than graceful, but in white gloves and formal frock coat he appeared more formidable than fearsome. He winked at her as they passed in the pattern of the dance, and her spirits lifted another notch. If he could find humor in the spectacle they were creating, she had no reason to complain.

  The evening barreled along after that. Guy claimed her hand for the next dance and more acquaintances clamored for others. She had no fear of being a wallflower, but she almost thought she would prefer to be. She listened politely to her partners’ chatter, but seldom did they strike on subjects of interest to her. She scarcely knew half the names they mentioned and did not care much for the information imparted about those she knew. She had little knowledge of fashion and could not discourse for long on the advantages or disadvantages of Bath and Brighton. It was with great relief that she found Graham holding out a demanding hand to her when a waltz began.

  “I am certainly entitled to one dance with my wife, am I not?” he growled in reply to protests from several gentlemen waiting for a chance at Penelope’s hand.

  Beneath Graham’s fierce stare they melted into the crowd, and Penelope closed her fingers gratefully around his. “It is kind of you to come to my rescue, but you do not need to exert yourself upon my account.” She gazed up at him hopefully. “I would be quite content to sit somewhere and talk of something other than the weather or the Regent’s wardrobe.” She had noticed Graham had not danced since the first one.

  One corner of his mouth turned up in a rueful smile. “I am quite out of practice, I’ll admit. The waltz was considered very daring when I last trod the dance floor. But I’m willing if you are.”

  Penelope glanced toward the draperies she knew concealed French doors to the terrace, then back to Graham. “Could we. . . Do you think we would be noticed if we went outside? I have avoided the waltz because it is never danced at assemblies at home, and I’m not at all certain I can remember how to do it. I’ve practiced with some of the girls at home, but. . .” She let the sentence die away as Graham’s eye took on a gleam of approval.

  “If anyone dares follow, I shall scowl at them and send them running.” He offered his arm and they threw back the draperies to step outside.

  By leaving the doors open, they could hear the music. The warm May night smelled fresh after breathing heavy perfumes. Graham wrapped his arm around Penelope’s waist and caught her hand, and stiffly they moved to the music.

  In no time at all they were dancing creditably, if not gracefully. Penelope followed Graham’s lead, and she relaxed into the joy of being held by her husband. Graham pulled her closer, and she was reluctant to part when the music ended.

  “Now I remember why I used to attend these functions. The pleasure of holding a beautiful woman in my arms exceeds the boredom of chattering with empty-headed misses.” Graham continued to hold her hand as he led her toward the ballroom.

  Penelope glanced wistfully up at the night sky. “I would be content to remain out here. I miss my garden. Do you think we might go to the country for just a little while when the Season ends? I’m certain Alexandra would enjoy it also.”

  Graham bent her a quizzical look. “You have only just arrived in the city. Surely you are not ready to abandon it?”

  “Oh, it is very amusing, and I have met fascinating people, but I suppose I’m just a wee bit homesick. I would like to see Augusta again, and the twins, and all of them. Have you never lived anywhere else but the city?”

  His expression closed and he replied stiffly. “Perhaps when I have completed my business here, we will go to visit my sister for a while. Will that suit?”

  His aloofness took some of the pleasure from his reply, but Penelope nodded. “Yes, that would be lovely. She seems to be a very pleasant person.”

  Once inside the ballroom they were caught up in the crowd rushing for the opened doors to the buffet. Entering the supper room, Graham stayed at her side. His massive size made it easy to clear a path to the table. She had to laugh at the ease with which he appropriated whatever he wanted from the table.

  As they sampled the fare, Graham introduced her to more of his acquaintance. Penelope felt as if he might really be enjoying himself, and she received his friends with warmth.

  She knew few of the people Graham’s companions gossiped about. She was fascinated that someone named Deauville had been in the Caribbean. She knew of no one who had visited such an exotic place, and she hoped they might run into him sometime so she could hear firsthand about the fascinating islands. Graham’s lack of interest in the subject was a disappointment, but Graham seldom allowed conversation to be dull.

  The musicians stuck up a contra-danse, and the crowd flowed back toward the dance floor. Penelope happily joined in.

  When the music ended, she had lost sight of Graham. Assuming he had joined his companions in another room, she returned to dancing rather than chase after him. When Guy claimed her later, she turned to him for assistance.

  “Have you seen Graham? He is so very difficult to misplace, but I have not seen him this age or more.”

  Guy smiled reassuringly. “Do not worry, my lady. You are in capable hands. He wasn’t feeling quite the thing, and he left early, with many apologies to you. You are to enjoy yourself, and I am to escort you home when you are ready.”

  Alarm replaced her earlier well-being. “He seemed fine earlier. I hope it is nothing he has eaten. I’m sorry, Guy, but I must leave. Perhaps he has caught Alexandra’s measles. Do you know if he has ever had measles?” She hurried toward the foyer, scarcely giving Guy time to answer.

  “You are being overly concerned, Penelope,” Guy admonished, but he did not attempt to stop her.

  When they reached the Trevelyan mansion, Guy insisted on coming in with her, but all seemed quiet. The footman sleepily guarding the door said the master had gone off to bed, and Guy had no other choice but to give his farewell.

  Before the door had closed behind him, Penelope was running up the stairs. It was not like Graham to be ill, however much he played the invalid. True, he kept country hours more often than not, and it was past his usual time for retiring, but he would not have feigned illness to go home to sleep.

  Bracing herself, she rapped on the door con
necting their chambers. She had never entered Graham’s bedroom, but she knew his manservant often guarded the door. He would know how serious Graham’s illness might be.

  When John opened the door, he appeared surprised to see her. “My lady?”

  “I would like to see Graham, John. If he is ill, a physician must be sent for.”

  She had donned the cloak of authority she wielded so well. John appeared nervous at refusing her orders, but he did not relent. “I’m sorry, my lady. His lordship’s gone to sleep and asked not to be disturbed. I can’t go against his orders, my lady. He’ll be right and fine in the morning, I’m certain.”

  The door closed in her face and Penelope stared at it in confusion. It was as if a solid brick wall came between them whenever they entered this suite. Why had Graham married her when he so obviously did not want a wife?

  Chadwell sat in the darkened corner of one of the more sordid gambling hells off Whitechapel. The few oil lamps emitted more smoke than light and guttered low as the hours ticked by. Only the cheap tallow candles on the tables offered illumination for the card players. Chadwell’s table sported no candle, and he sipped at his drink, unnoticed.

  Newly returned from the Caribbean, Deauville hadn’t wasted time in returning to his old haunts. It had been a simple matter to track him down. A few inquiries of former club mates eager to disassociate themselves from the bounder had produced a wealth of information.

  Deauville had been warned. He had been given the opportunity for a second chance, but there he was, swindling the young fool on his right while using his mother’s jewels as bait. The jewels would be lost by morning despite the winnings from the young fool. There were better cheats at that table than Deauville.

  Chadwell eyed the rest of the scoundrel’s company. He had thought DeVere reformed, but he should have known the man’s perverted tastes would not be fed on a diplomat’s salary. His animosity toward the older man had developed over a lifetime, but DeVere had given him no direct cause to challenge him. The diplomat would have to hang himself; Chadwell was out for a different game tonight.

  There went the jewels. That should end the game for Deauville. Chadwell did not feel any particular satisfaction at the rightness of his deduction as the dissipated rake pushed away from the table. The fool had brought about his own destruction. He needed only a devil’s advocate to make him see the way.

  DeVere gestured to one of the doxies leaning against the wall and sent her after the departing card player. If Deauville weren’t diseased by now, he would be by night’s end. Chadwell slipped from his table to follow. He wondered if DeVere still held his investment in the bordello across the street. His new diplomatic post shouldn’t allow for that.

  He followed Deauville into the gloomy upstairs hallway. It wasn’t difficult to part the drunken player from his companion. The woman took Chadwell’s coin and vanished without a word. Deauville blinked at him with bloodshot, uncomprehending eyes, until Chadwell produced his pistol.

  “Let’s chat awhile, shall we?” He gestured toward an empty room.

  The rail-thin man stared at Chadwell as if he were the devil himself. “You! You’re dead! Go away. Leave me alone.”

  Chadwell smiled unpleasantly and gestured again with the weapon. “You have been sadly misinformed, my friend. Now let us go inside and speak privately or all the ears behind these doors will know your troubles.”

  Having no other choice, Deauville did as told. Sobered by the sight of the pistol, he watched warily as Chadwell shut the door, ensuring their privacy.

  “Now, let us speak of the paste necklace presently residing in your mother’s jewel case. How many others have gone the same way?” Chadwell leaned against the door, the weapon drooping from his finger.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the man—no longer as young or hotheaded as he’d been the last time he’d been in England—replied sullenly.

  “You may deny it to me all you like, it’s no skin off my nose. Of course, in the morning, when your mother receives an anonymous note asking that she have her jewelry appraised. . . Your uncle has already mentioned Newgate, I believe?”

  “My God, you wouldn’t! I’ll replace them, I swear it! It’s just the luck’s been bad these last few nights. . .”

  “These last few years, I’d say. You’ve lost the plantation, haven’t you? And has your uncle heard of the murder warrant yet? That rather eliminates returning to France. I’d say you have quite neatly narrowed your choices to none. Was it worth it, Deauville? I let you go once. Do you think I ought to do it again? Instead of one woman dead, now there’s two. And half your family’s fortune gone, if not more. What do you think, Deauville? Do you think I ought to let you go again?”

  The bloodshot eyes filled with fear at these ominous words. Deauville stammered for a reply. “I told you I’d replace the jewels. I can’t bring back the dead. They were accidents. You know they were. We were only out for a bit of fun. We didn’t know it was Marilee. You know that. Devil take it, man, let me go. I’ll go back to the islands. Anything you say.”

  “Oh, no, it’s too late for that. It wasn’t an accident, Deauville. Don’t forget, I was there. You may have killed the wrong person, but you meant to kill. If it had been an accident, you would have gone for help. But you didn’t, did you? You ran like rabbits and left her there to die in agony. I hope your little bit of fun was worth it, Deauville. If you’d been a decent man, you would have seen the error of your ways then, but you didn’t. We’re all only given one second chance. You’ve had yours. The note will be in your mother’s hands by morning. A copy of the note and the warrant for your arrest will be in your uncle’s hands at the same time. There’s only one way you can retrieve any of your honor, save your family from shame.” Chadwell waited with disinterest as the other man’s gaze lit with hope.

  “What? What is it? Name anything. Money? I’ll find it. I have friends. . .”

  “Not anymore, you don’t.” Chadwell removed several silver objects from his breast pocket and dropped them in the empty washbasin beside the door. Then taking the barrel of the empty pistol, he handed the butt end to Deauville. “I think you know how to load it. It’s the one you used that night to scare the horses. Put it to a better purpose this time. Goodnight.”

  As Deauville incredulously took the offered weapon, Chadwell tipped his elegant beaver hat and stepped out the door.

  Chapter 11

  The next morning, steeling herself for another confrontation, Penelope balanced a breakfast tray in one hand and rapped at Graham’s door. She would not be shut out of his life so easily, particularly if he needed her.

  Again, John answered the rap. His coat was rumpled and his hair untidy as he greeted her.

  “Is Graham any better this morning? I’ve brought up some tea and things so he need not rise immediately.” She waited for the servant to move out of the way.

  John held out his hands for the tray. “He is still sleeping, my lady, but I will set this beside the bed in case he wakes.”

  As he bent to heft the tray from her hands, Penelope caught a glimpse of the massive bed behind him. The curtains were pulled back to allow air from the open window to circulate, and she thought she caught a glimpse of Graham sprawled across the pillows. That relieved one nagging fear that she had not admitted even to herself.

  “The hour is late, John. How can he sleep so long? That does not seem at all healthy. I still think a physician should be summoned.”

  “It’s the laudanum, my lady. He sleeps off the pain, and then he’s right as a trivet again.”

  Laudanum? Penelope allowed the door to be closed again and added one more piece to the puzzle that was her husband. Of course they would have given him laudanum after that terrible accident. And if he still suffered pain from those old injuries, it would be natural to turn to it for relief.

  She frowned, remembering one of her father’s elderly parishioners who had been given laudanum at the onset of illness. Soon, she had req
uired a drink every night just to sleep, and as the weeks went by, she grew increasingly feeble. Penelope had tried to persuade her from taking so much of the medicine, but the woman had cried and wept the whole night through when denied it. At the end, she had been barely lucid, and Penelope blamed it entirely on the medicine.

  Perhaps there were better doses of the liquid than her patient had taken. Surely a doctor wise enough to cure wounds as serious as Graham’s would not prescribe something dangerous. Still, she worried.

  To Penelope’s relief, Graham came downstairs in early afternoon to catch her teaching Alexandra backgammon in the parlor. He appeared hale and hearty, and she smiled in relief.

  Knowing from John that his wife had come home early on his account, Graham had thought to scold her for interfering where he had not asked, but her smile robbed his tongue of its sharp edge. She sat there with the glow of the afternoon sun turning the loose curls at her nape to spun gold, her violet eyes wide with love and laughter, and he could no more say a cross word to her than he could to his daughter, whose dark eyes watched him warily.

  “You look like truants from the schoolroom. Where is Mrs. Haywood? Shouldn’t you be learning something a little more valuable than backgammon?” He affectionately tugged a strand of his daughter’s ebony hair.

  Alexandra sent him a fierce look. “Penny said I could. And she said we might go out in the carriage tomorrow.” She did not add “So there!” but the words were in her inflection.

  Startled by this boldness from his usually cautious daughter, Graham nodded solemnly. “Penny is quite right. A little fresh air should be good for you after so many days inside.”

  The defiant expression disappeared and Alexandra beamed with mischievousness. “Penny told Mrs. Haywood I need not start on my books or my sewing all day yet. She said I am still re-coop. . .” She glanced to Penelope for aid. Supplied with the word, she finished in triumph. “I am re-coop-er-ating, and I should not do too much at once.”