Love Forever After Page 9

  “On the contrary,” Penelope objected, “that is my idea of heaven, surrounded by children. I should have taken up the profession of nursery maid.”

  Graham regarded her with curiosity. “You would make a most extraordinary nursery maid. The children would love you, but I suspect you would terrify the parents. You exert a little too much authority for a maid.”

  “Oh, dear, that does not sound very ladylike. Am I a terrible ogre?” Penelope handed him the delicate Stoke porcelain teacup and wondered at the direction of this conversation.

  “Ogress, wouldn’t it be? I believe I am the ogre in this family. You are just as you should be. I don’t think I have told you how much I appreciate the way you have taken over the ordering of this household. I did not realize how out of hand things had become until you put it back in order again.”

  Amazement crossed her face at this unexpected compliment. “I thank you for your kind words, but I have done little enough in exchange for all you have given me. Is this leading up to something?”

  Graham settled into his chair and sipped from the small cup while eyeing his wife with pleasure. She behaved with regal composure in company, but he knew the playful humor lurking beneath that grace. He had never suspected such a rare combination when he had asked her to marry him. He had only known that children loved and respected her and that had been enough. Now he knew there were facets to her that he could spend a lifetime exploring, and he didn’t know where or how to begin. He feared that she would despise him should she learn all the truths about him, but he was willing to risk all for a chance at winning her favor. All he had to do was decide on how to go about it.

  “Not a thing, my dear. I just didn’t want you to think you are unappreciated. I hear you’ve met Cliff. What do you think of him?” He maintained his appearance of disinterest as Penelope’s cup clattered, and she set it aside to pass the cakes.

  “Your cousin rather startled me last night. Does he stay with us long?”

  “What? Are you ready to be rid of him already? Has he behaved disagreeably?”

  “No, or course not, but he is very. . . How should I say it? Sure of himself?”

  Graham spluttered in his tea. “Arrogant? Quite possibly. But I thought the two of you might amuse yourselves for a while. He doesn’t visit often, and as an American, he hasn’t been introduced to society. As a matter of fact, he is better known in a society I would prefer you did not know.”

  Penelope grimaced. “He is much in the petticoat line, I imagine. Well, it is not to be helped. I daresay you did not behave much better in your youth.”

  Graham had to call upon all his talents to choke back a roar of laughter. He had set himself up for that one. In his youth! What a delightful innocent he had managed to shackle himself to. He must have had maggots in his head when he thought he could carry this off.

  “Nor in my dotage, either,” he muttered through a mouthful of crumbs.

  Penelope sent him a sharp look but did not expound upon this comment. “Do you wish me to provide some entertainment for him? I could put together a card party, perhaps. A small dinner or two. I don’t think I am adept enough to manage more than that yet.”

  Controlling his laughter, Graham answered, “Cliff provides his own entertainment. Pray, do not try to introduce him to what few friends I have left. He is not about much, in any case. Have you ordered your gown for the Larchmont ball?”

  “There is the gold sarcenet I have not yet worn. It should be suitable. Are you certain you still wish to go?”

  “Of course. I would not miss terrorizing the entire haut ton all at once. The occasion is much too rare to miss, unless you object?” He raised a quizzical brow.

  “Oh, no, I have ever wanted to terrorize all of London. By all means. Perhaps I should order a new gown,” she answered faintly, while Graham chuckled.

  His sense of humor would almost certainly be the death of one of them.

  Chapter 10

  The dark closed in thickly in the East End’s narrow streets of leaning buildings. Cloaked from head to toe in heavy black broadcloth that blended with the gloom but did not disguise his athletic build, Chadwell listened to Nellie, the informant he found so useful. When she finished her tale, he shook his head in sympathy.

  “Still, I cannot see what I can do. Between looking for these scoundrels and rescuing your brats, I have my hands full. Bow Street is where you need to go with your tale. The lady who was murdered was not of my acquaintance. I cannot know who her gentlemen friends might be.”

  Nellie gave him an exasperated look. Though she was in her mid-twenties and had been on the streets since childhood, she retained much of her plump, blond good looks. She had enough intelligence to avoid gin and brothels and men with fancy promises—and sufficient beauty to attract him, so she fared well. It was only when she opened her mouth that the gutter betrayed her.

  She spoke in a harsh, nasal whine. “Ye’ve only to make en queeries, Cliff. No Bow Street pimp knows who’s to arsk oncet they get past St. James. She was a friend, Cliff, even iv she warn’t no better than she should be. There’s plenty of them what comes down to use them rooms. It ain’t right that murderin’ rogue walkin’ about wi’out nobody doin’ nothin’.”

  Cliff winced but nodded his head. She didn’t understand he had little or no contact with the people she wanted interrogated, but he would keep his ears open. She had served him well enough these past years.

  “I’ll see what I can do, Nell, but don’t expect too much. My time is not my own anymore.”

  Nellie’s grin broadened to expose her missing back tooth, the one other flaw in her beauty. “Aye, and I’ve seen the miss. Yer won’t be comin’ to see me with the likes of that one around. Done yerself pretty, ain’t ye? And ’ow’s my Jack doin’? You seen ’im?”

  This was a topic he could expound upon, and Chadwell nodded. “He’s flourishing, Nell, you needn’t worry. I was in Hampshire a month ago. The family he’s with is quite proud of him.”

  Knowing Chadwell, Nellie frowned. “Which of the little buggers up and run away? There was no other way you’d a left the city.”

  “It’s to be expected, Nell. Country life doesn’t suit everyone. I can only find them homes and hope for the best. It’s the younger ones that stand the best chance.”

  “Pippin, I wager. ’E’s a right one, ’e is.” She shrugged off the subject. “Whatcher gonna do ’bout that letter from your fancy gennulman? Want I should carry a message back?”

  Chadwell tapped the letter in his pocket and shook his head. “He’s playing with a marked deck, Nellie. We’ll let the gentleman wait awhile. Thanks for holding it. I’ll send word when I need you again.”

  Nellie made a rude noise as Chadwell blended into the darkness.

  When Penelope returned from the evening at Almacks, she checked on Alexandra, then glanced toward the library. The library lamp was off, and she breathed a sigh of relief. It would be much simpler dealing with the arrogant American in the daytime when she had all her wits about her.

  She had told her maid not to wait up, so the lamp burning in her chamber was a pleasant surprise—until she pushed the door open to discover she was no longer alone.

  “You! What are you doing here? This is infamous! Take your leave at once, sir.” Penelope stepped aside and pointed to the doorway she had just entered.

  Chadwell rose from the chair he had appropriated but made no attempt to do as told. He bowed and gave her ivory cambric an appreciative look.

  “I will have to admit, the simple style suits you as well as the extravagant. The ladies of Almacks should heartily approve.”

  Penelope clenched her fan and tried not to succumb to his charm. Gritting her teeth, she demanded again, “What are you doing in here?”

  He smiled. “If I had waited in the library, would you have come in there?” The question didn’t need an answer. They both knew she would avoid him. “This way, the presumption is all mine, and you can continue to believe you behav
ed properly. You said you play chess. Couldn’t you indulge me in one game?”

  “In here?” Equal parts confused and horrified, Penelope sought some sensibility in the situation. She enjoyed Chadwell’s company too much. She would willingly play him chess or jackstraws without preference had they been in the parlor surrounded by people. In her bedchamber, alone, was beyond her capability.

  “What could be more innocent?” was his astonishing reply. “Graham is not a jealous man, but even the most demanding of husbands would not imagine I could seduce you a few steps from where he sleeps. I will open the connecting door if you prefer. What better chaperone would you have? I thought you would be pleased with my circumspection.”

  She had never heard anything more preposterous in all her life, but he said it with such a boyish charm she could not remain angry. He had discarded his coat and loosened his neck cloth and made himself comfortable just as Graham had done when he courted her. “You are not only arrogant, but incorrigible. Bring your chessboard to the parlor after brunch, and I will play with you. That is the best I can offer.”

  “That will not do. Shall I wake Graham and insist that he sit up to chaperone us? I will, you know.” When she glared, Chadwell backed down a smidgen. “All right, chess in the parlor tomorrow, but surely a quick game of backgammon tonight would not be harmful? Just one game and I will go away peaceably.”

  She knew better than to agree. No man had ever affected her in this way, and she did not like the curious loss of control she suffered in his presence. He came in and took over, and she willingly submitted to his every suggestion. No wonder she felt a perfect goose after he left. But while he was here, she felt admired and needed and the center of attention. Not even Graham had ever treated her like that, and she found it a hard combination to resist.

  “One game? Promise?” She continued to cling to the wall.

  “Promise.” Chadwell opened the drawer of the game table as if completely at home and began removing the pieces while Penelope ventured into her room.

  When she had crossed just half the distance and seemed reluctant to continue, Chadwell took her elbow. The heat of his hand against her bare flesh startled her, but before she could pull away, he guided her toward the chair he had arranged on the other side of the table.

  There seemed nothing to do but oblige. He leaned against the back of her chair as he arranged the pieces for her, and the intimacy of this gesture took her breath away. He seemed so sure of himself, so confident of his place that she could not seem to raise the voice to object. In fact, the sensation was so pleasant, she could almost wish it to continue.

  Almost casually his hand brushed against the wisps of hair at her nape. Penelope did not dare look up as he settled into the chair across from her. Just the sight of his loosened neck cloth dangling between the edges of his opened waistcoat made her too aware of his masculinity. She could not bear to meet his eyes.

  Of course, by the end of the game he had charmed her into laughing with him, and she felt no fear as he trounced her soundly then stood up to leave as promised. She took his hand to wish him good evening. It was only when she looked up into the molten gold of his eyes that she knew her mistake.

  He did not give her time to think, no less to run. His hand circled her head to support her as he swooped down to take what she had not promised. He held her firmly, without pressure, and his mobile lips moved persuasively across hers.

  The shock of his touch held Penelope paralyzed. Her hands came up to push him away, but the promise of his kiss put an end to that initiative. With wonder she felt his subtle assault, and her heart beat so hard she felt certain it would leap from her chest. Too terrified to return the kiss, she did not resist it, either.

  Chadwell apparently took the latter as permission to continue, and his kiss deepened, teasing at her lips and drawing her into his need as a whirlpool drowns its victims. The hand at the back of her head tightened, and his other went to her waist, pulling her closer with a gentleness meant to reassure.

  Penelope felt herself weakening, giving into the strange sensations inundating her as she rested in this man’s arms. She bent into his embrace and rested her hand against his solid chest while his lips plundered hers, and she began to respond. Only when he became too confident and tightened his grip did she panic and push away.

  Too embarrassed even to face him, she turned away and hid her face in her hands. “Go away. Just go away. And don’t come back.”

  Chadwell touched her bare shoulder and said sadly, “I won’t be able to keep away. Goodnight, my lady.”

  Why did he have to make even the title sound like an intimate caress? Penelope swung around to give him a scold, but the door was already closing behind him. With a sob she threw herself face first across the bed.

  By the night of the Larchmont ball Penelope’s normal composure had suffered a severe setback. She saw little of Graham, and by the time Dolly appeared for tea, she had forgotten to ask about the news of her brother. She forgot Dolly’s disappointment when Graham did not appear. Even Alexandra complained of her lack of concentration when she beat Penelope several games in a row at jackstraws. And it was all because of Clifton Chadwell.

  He behaved with perfect propriety when he appeared in the parlor for their afternoon game of chess. The fact that maids scurried in and out would have dampened the attentions of the most amorous of men. But though Penelope could not complain of his behavior, she cursed his thoughts. Every time she looked up at him, she felt the warmth of his gaze, and it shattered her thought processes. Surely he could not believe she meant anything by a single kiss? But the possessiveness of his touch as he took her hand at game’s end spoke differently.

  She ordered her maid to stay up for her that night, but Chadwell lay in wait in the front salon when Penelope let herself in. No footman lingered in the halls as he caught her hand and drew her into the shadowed darkness.

  He offered no word of apology or explanation but wrapped her in his arms and continued where he had left off the prior night. The same magic touched them, dropping a velvet mantle over their shoulders to protect them from the prying eyes of the rest of the world. It was as if time and place disappeared and the only reality was this touch of lips and hands.

  Shaken to the core by the intensity of her response, Penelope turned away first. There was no point in even arguing. Picking up her skirts, she fled before he could see the tears welling up in her eyes. She did not know what Chadwell was doing to her, but she knew enough to avoid it.

  She did not see Chadwell the day of the ball, and it was with relief that she greeted her husband’s stolid appearance in her chamber that evening. Wickedly he wore an eye patch of the same dark blue of his swallow-tailed coat, and Penelope summoned a grin.

  “The Beau approved your sartorial choice then?” she inquired, lightly brushing his drawn cheek just below the patch.

  Graham averted her touch, and she removed her hand, cursing her foolishness. It was another man’s face she longed to caress. If Clifton hadn’t so thoroughly destroyed her wits, she would have kept the careful distance Graham had established between them.

  “I decided my wife’s taste took precedence. Will all the ladies admire it?” he asked with a casualness that belied the tension between them.

  “Not if you scowl at them. Your problem is that you look much too strong to be a helpless invalid they could pet and make over. Can’t you contrive to look pathetic?” she asked.

  Graham roared his approval of this jibe and continued chuckling as he inspected the daring gold gossamer of Penelope’s gown. “I fear I shall look quite pathetic by evening’s end when I am left standing all alone in the corner while you are being whirled about the floor by eager young blades. That gown should distract every eye.”

  “It ought, considering what you paid for it,” Penelope replied. “It was your eye I hoped to distract, however. I thought if I could hold your attention, you would not be so inclined to terrorize the guests. I do owe the coun
tess the same consideration she has shown me.”

  “Which is why I have agreed to attend her ball. Lady Larchmont will be delighted if I terrorize her guests. It will make her the talk of the town. She considers herself a lioness of society, and I must admit she is a good deal more dashing than those harpies Jersey and Lieven. Matilda will not serve us stale cake and watery lemonade.”

  Penelope relaxed as she realized he viewed the evening’s chore with humor. She had feared he had agreed to go from a misguided sense of obligation, but he seemed eager to meet the public again. Perhaps he grew bored of his own company and was ready to shed his isolated state.

  The sensation they caused as the butler announced their arrival to a room filled with pillars of society was enough to decimate what remained of Penelope’s composure. All eyes turned to watch their descent into the glittering ballroom. Penelope clung to Graham’s arm as they stepped into virtual silence.

  The shocked stares were worse than the hush. Heads craned to see the twisted wreck of the once handsome viscount. Blessedly Guy Hamilton hurried up to distract them, and Dolly Reardon joined him.

  The countess had remained behind to greet late arriving guests, but at the ominous lack of sound from her ballroom, she hurried into the company, accompanied by her bemused husband. “Graham, you and your lovely wife are sensational!”

  The countess wrapped her fingers around Graham’s sleeve. “I never thought to see the day when all the flapping tongues in town would be stopped at once, but you have quite marvelously accomplished it just for me. Pity it couldn’t last.” This caustic comment came about with the growing roar of everyone speaking at once.

  Graham lifted a wry eyebrow. “Pleasure to be of assistance. I see the years have not dulled your sharp tongue, Matilda.”

  “Nor has it yours, Trevelyan.” Lady Larchmont turned to Penelope. “Gray and I go back a long way, so you will excuse us if we do not observe the courtesies, Lady Trevelyan. You have more gumption than I expected if you are responsible for dragging the lion from his lair. I thank you.”