Love With the Proper Husband (22 page)

Was it possible that she—

Good Lord, what had happened to him? His imagination had never been so active. In truth, he’d never thought himself particularly imaginative at all. This was complete and utter nonsense, and he firmly pushed aside the preposterous notion of another man in Gwen’s life. It was no more than his own history with women that would make him think something so farfetched in the first place. She’d done nothing to indicate such a thing, or to indicate she was hiding anything from him whatsoever. Still, she had said his proposal was not the first time she’d been asked to marry…

Ridiculous. The very idea was absurd. Gwen was intelligent and well used to running her own life, yet he did not for a moment believe she would deceive him.

Of course, in truth, he did not know her well. And she did insist on keeping control of her money as well as some house she owned somewhere.

Gwen sighed in her sleep and snuggled closer against him. He tightened his grip around her and resolved to ignore his unsettling thoughts. The real problem had nothing whatsoever to do with her but with him. He’d been so reluctant to fully care for a woman that now that he was in the position where caring, indeed even loving, was a possibility, he was doing what he could to protect himself from the likelihood of pain. Inventing fanciful reasons to maintain his reserve rather than allow himself to surrender fully to the emotion that would tug at his heart if he let it.

Not that he had done so yet but perhaps it was time. There were worse things in life than falling in love with one’s wife. He already liked her. More than he had ever liked a woman before. And she would

be so very easy to love.

It was a question of trust. He had to trust his wife. And even more difficult, he had to trust himself.

Chapter Eleven

Men are especially endearing when they are foolish, which is much to their favor, as they are
foolish a great deal of the time.

Francesca Freneau

Gwen gazed at her reflection in the tall pier mirror at the top of the stairs and couldn’t resist a smile of satisfaction. She looked rather pretty in this new gown, the first of many expected to arrive at Pennington House over the course of the next week or so. Possibly even extraordinarily pretty. Marcus thought so at any rate, and that was all that really mattered.

In the four days since her marriage, Gwen had come to the startling realization that, for perhaps the first time in her life, she belonged. She wasn’t an outsider in her own home, and in truth, Pennington House already felt like home. Indeed, she not only belonged somewhere but to someone. To a family. To Marcus and his mother and her nieces. She was wanted and it was wonderful. She’d never imagined happiness like this. Real, true happiness. She could see it in the reflection in the mirror. Her skin glowed and her eyes were bright and she had the most absurd grin on her face. And she had an insane desire to laugh at the most inappropriate times. Her step was light, as was her heart. It had nothing to do with her new clothes, as fetching as they were, and little as well to do with this new life she had somehow stumbled into. The blame or the credit for this absurd sense of happiness could be placed squarely on the shoulders of her new husband.

Marcus.

Even the mere mention of his name brought a silly, dazed sort of smile to her lips. He was perhaps the most wonderful person she’d ever known. He was thoughtful and considerate and made her laugh more than she thought possible. Beyond that, he treated her as if she were important, of value. As if her thoughts and her words and her opinions mattered to him. And when he took her in his arms, the entire world consisted of nothing more than the two of them.

She liked Marcus a great deal. Of course, she liked his friend Lord Berkley, who seemed to be around rather a lot, as well, but that was entirely different. She liked Berkley as she would any friend, not that she had had any male friends before. She thought him quite amusing and found nothing more enjoyable than observing the sometimes quite astute and always humorous exchanges between Berkley and her husband. The two men were as close as brothers, and she was relieved that Berkley appeared to approve of her. And relieved as well that she enjoyed the pleasure of his company. But her liking for Marcus was entirely different. She liked her husband as precisely what he was: her lover. However, she was not in love with him, nor did she ever plan on loving him. She did, however, feel a certain amount of fondness for him. If she was anything, she was, well, in lust with him. Yes, that was it exactly. She was in lust. It was a powerful, overwhelming, and all too delightful feeling. She gave a final nod to the image in the mirror and started down the stairs, ignoring the mild soreness and stiffness that was a direct result of the last few nights. One of the maids had informed her she had a caller waiting in the parlor, and she assumed it was one of the endless numbers of people wanting to make the acquaintance of the new Countess of Pennington. The Countess of Pennington. She bit back a grin.

She certainly didn’t feel like a countess even though everyone treated her as such, from callers to merchants. Her status in the world had taken a sharp upswing, and it was both startling and great fun. Lady Pennington—Helena—
Mama
had taken her to her own modiste and cobbler and milliner and so forth and so on until Gwen had lost track of the shops and fittings. It was exhausting, yet she’d found there was nothing quite as stimulating as being wrapped in swaths of fine silk in vibrant colors to see which best brought out the blue of her eyes. Or shown gloves so soft they fit like a second skin. Or fitted for shoes so supple they molded to her feet. Shopping had provided an excellent excuse as well to visit the girls every day.

Her brows drew together at the thought of her nieces. While with every visit they seemed to like her more—or Patience and Hope seemed to like her more—Charity simply tolerated her—every visit also served to emphasize her ongoing deception. Oh certainly, she had not actually mentioned the girls to Marcus, therefore she was more than willing to argue she’d never actually lied to him, even if not revealing their existence, indeed, hiding them with Madame and Colette, would probably be perceived by him as, at the very least, deceit. And it certainly felt like a lie. She planned to tell him. Indeed, she’d begun nearly every day of their marriage thus far with the firm intention of telling him. The more she knew him, the more she believed, or perhaps hoped, he would welcome them into his home. But what if she was wrong? After all, how well did she really know him?

And as open as Marcus had been with her, there were moments when he became cool and reserved. When there was a look in his eye she couldn’t read. A question she couldn’t answer. That, more than anything else, kept her still for now. There would be time enough later to tell him all. For the moment, the girls were well taken care of and really quite happy.

As was Gwen.

She reached the bottom of the stairs, crossed the wide entry to the parlor, and cast a blinding smile at the footman waiting to open the doors a beat ahead of her arrival. She sailed into the room and pulled up short at the sight of Mr. Whiting’s nephew.

“Albert?” she said without thinking, then shook her head. “Forgive me. It’s Mr. Whiting, isn’t it?”

“Actually it’s Trumble,” Albert said apologetically, twisting his hat in his hands. “Mr. Whiting is my mother’s brother.”

“I see.” She eyed him curiously. “Well then, Mr. Trumble, how may I help you?”

“I heard, that is I was informed…” Albert’s brow furrowed. “I understand you have taken the drastic step of marrying the Earl of Pennington.”

She laughed. “I daresay it wasn’t all that drastic, Mr. Trumble, and yes, I did marry the earl.”

“Oh, please do call me Albert.” He stepped toward her eagerly. “We have shared rather too much to be so formal with one another.”

She stepped back in surprise. “That would be entirely inappropriate,
Mr. Trumble
, and quite improper as well. Beyond that, we have shared nothing more than a dreadful mistake on your part that adversely affected my life. It’s scarcely the stuff friendships are based on.”

“I did offer to marry you,” he said in a chiding manner.

She stared in disbelief. “As something of an afterthought, if I recall. You certainly made no such offer five years ago when I could have benefited from such a proposal.”

“I know, and I have regretted it each and every day since.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I should have prevented you from taking the impulsive actions you deemed necessary, but by the time I had realized marriage was the only thing that would, in truth, save you from dire poverty—”

“The poverty you and you alone had determined was my lot,” she said pointedly.

“I know.” He heaved a heartfelt sigh. “I have berated myself endlessly for my mistake. Indeed, I did all in my power to help my uncle find you.”

“That’s all very well and good, Mr. Trumble but”—she narrowed her eyes and considered him—

“the past is over and done with and I have put it behind me. I have accepted the apologies of both yourself and your uncle, and there really is no more to be said on the matter. Therefore, I do wonder precisely why you are here today.”

“I am here, Miss Townsend—”

“Lady Pennington,” Gwen said firmly.

“Of course, Lady Pennington.” Albert squared his shoulders and lifted his chin in the manner of any man facing a firing squad. “I am here to reiterate the offer of assistance I made in my uncle’s office. I wish you to know you may call on me at any time, for any reason. I shall now and always be at your service. It is the least I can do.”

“I do appreciate it, Mr. Trumble, but”—she cast him a skeptical smile—“it’s not necessary.”

“Oh, but it is.” Albert’s tone was resolute. “If not for you, then for my own piece of mind.”

“Very well then, I accept your offer. Indeed, it is most gracious of you.” It really was exceedingly nice of him even if Gwen doubted she would ever have need of his assistance. “Now then, if there is nothing else.” She started toward the door. “Do give my regards to your uncle.”

“Actually, Lady Pennington, there is more.” Albert said staunchly.

“Yes, there would be, wouldn’t there? You are certainly following in your uncle’s footsteps,” she said under her breath, then favored him with a patient smile. “Please go on.”

“It’s about your nieces.”

Gwen held her breath. “What about them?”

He paused, obviously uncertain how to proceed. “Apparently your sister’s husband was not without financial resources. Were you aware that he owned the ship they were traveling on?”

“No.”

“Your nieces may be the recipients of a substantial inheritance.”

“I was not told of any inheritance.”

“We have just learned of the possibility. My uncle received some rather vague information regarding the situation and he is even now looking into it.” A reluctant note sounded in Albert’s voice.

“There may be a question as to your legal right to guardianship.”

“Mr. Trumble.” Gwen clenched her fists by her side and forced a firm tone. “These girls are my family, my only family. I am their closest living relative. I will not allow them to fall into the hands of anyone more interested in their money than their happiness. Any inheritance they may have is of no importance. I have the funds now to ensure they are provided with an excellent future. And I will not relinquish them without one bloody hell of a fight.”

“Lady Pennington!” Albert’s eyes widened with shock. “Such language!”

Gwen didn’t care. She stepped toward him in a decidedly menacing manner. “You tell your uncle I expect him to serve my interests, and those of my nieces, with the thoroughness and dedication he served my father. He has my blessing to do whatever he deems necessary to get to the bottom of this matter and resolve it in a satisfactory manner. Are we quite clear on this, Mr. Trumble?”

“Indeed we are, my lady.” Albert studied her for a moment. “I see now my offer of assistance may be misplaced. You are not quite as helpless as I had believed.”

“I have never been helpless.” She smiled coolly. “Impulsive and unwise in my actions, perhaps, but never helpless. However, Mr. Trumble”—she straightened her shoulders and met his gaze directly—“

Albert
, I shall indeed feel free to call on you should circumstances warrant it. And I am most grateful for your offer.”

“Excellent, Lady Pennington.” Albert looked as if he wanted to take her hand but thought better of it. “Then I shall bid you good day.” Albert nodded and strode from the room. Gwen waited until the parlor doors closed behind him then collapsed onto a sofa and buried her face in her hands.

What was she to do if someone tried to take the girls from her? Granted, she hadn’t even known of their existence a scant few weeks ago and indeed, when she had first learned of them she’d had no desire to do anything beyond ensure they were well cared for. But now all had changed. She still wasn’t sure why it had happened or how.

All she knew was that Charity, Patience, and Hope drew her back to her own childhood and reminded her with heart-wrenching clarity of the desperation of children, of girls, who knew full well they were not wanted. It was a bond between them that was stronger than even blood. And she would not fail them.