Love With the Proper Husband (25 page)

Patience and Hope sported matching grins. Even Charity favored Gwen with a reluctant smile. “So we have further decided, no matter what might happen, we wish to stay with you.”

“Because I’m better than”—Gwen grimaced—“rats?”

“We don’t like rats.” Hope’s tone was firm.

“Very well, then. I suppose I shall have to take what I can and be grateful for that.” Gwen smiled with relief. “In truth, even though I am apparently the least of any number of evils, I am still quite pleased.”

Again the girls exchanged glances. “We do think you should know, however,” Patience began in a patient manner, as if to make certain Gwen understood, “it isn’t as if we liked you a great deal.”

“Not yet, anyway,” Hope said staunchly. “We feel it’s entirely too soon to like you a great deal.”

“However, we are willing”—Charity nodded at Madame—“to give you the benefit of the doubt based on Madame Freneau’s recommendation.”

Hope lowered her voice in a confidential manner. “We like her a great deal.”

“And Madame de Chabot as well.” Patience smiled wistfully. “She has the most wonderful stories about balls and castles and princes and all manner of exciting people and places.”

“I see.” Gwen’s voice was weak. “I suppose I should thank them for championing my cause.”

“Aunt Gwendolyn.” Charity’s nose wrinkled as if the title sounded as awkward to her ears as it did to Gwen’s. “We simply wish to be a family again.”

“We did like being a family.” Patience sighed.

Hope sniffed. “We had a great deal of fun.”

Charity slanted her sisters a quieting glance. “We know without Mama and Papa nothing will ever be the same, but we are all tired of not knowing what will happen to us next. We firmly believe that you

—”

“And Lord Pennington,” Patience said.

“Who didn’t seem at all frightening. Rather like the kind of man who would get a girl a dog,” Hope added.

“—are our best hope for…” Charity thought for a moment. “Salvation. Yes, that’s it.” For the first time since Gwen had met her, Charity cast her a genuine smile. “Salvation.”

“If not here on earth then in the world to come,” Hope intoned piously.

“One wonders what would have happened if they’d been found by pirates instead of missionaries,” Madame said under her breath.

“I have never been anyone’s salvation before, but I shall try to live up to it.” Gwen studied the faces of the three girls for a long moment, then nodded and without further thought, spit on her finger. All three sisters promptly followed suit. Nieces and aunt proceeded with the traditional ceremony and as one turned toward Madame. She smiled in resignation, spit, and mixed her “blood” with theirs.

“I know Colette will regret missing this,” Madame murmured.

“We can certainly do it again when she arrives home.” Patience grinned. “I suspect she would hate to miss a blood oath.”

“Now we are even more bound together than before,” Hope said somberly. “Every blood oath makes the one before it that much stronger, you know.”

Patience nodded. “Bound together through all eternity.”

“It means we will not leave you.” Charity’s gaze met Gwen’s.

An odd sort of acknowledgment flashed between them. There was a vow here far beyond the rubbing of wet fingers, regardless of whether they were moistened with blood or something far less pagan. Gwen realized she and Charity were more alike than dissimilar. Each had taken on the responsibilities of survival at a young age: Gwen for herself, Charity for her sisters. And now, between them, there was a promise that from this moment forward, they would share that responsibility. That whatever happened they were indeed bound one to the other. And neither would bear the burden alone.

“Excellent.” Gwen’s gaze meshed with Charity’s. “Because I have no intention of allowing you to leave. Nor will I ever permit anyone to take you from me.” She held up her finger. “And I promise by all the blood in my veins that I shall never break this oath or else suffer the dire, horrible consequences.” She lowered her voice dramatically, and in the back of her mind noted she’d never meant anything as much as she did this promise to these children. “Forever.”

“You wish to go to the country,” Gwen said slowly. “Now?”

“As soon as it can be arranged.” Marcus leaned against the mantel, his arms crossed over his chest, in a manner that would be considered indolent if not for the tense line of his body. Gwen realized he was much more somber than the offhand nature of his words would indicate and wondered if there was something amiss. “I should think tomorrow at the very latest. It’s but half a day’s drive from London, and I do think you should see Holcroft Hall—”

“Holcroft Hall?” Gwen studied him thoughtfully. Perhaps he was simply concerned about her reaction to leaving town. “Your family seat? The family seat of the Earls of Pennington?”

“Precisely. As it has been since the first earl.”

“Near the village of Pennington itself, then, I presume?” Gwen struggled to hide the note of excitement in her voice.

The house her father had left her was near Pennington. If Madame was agreeable to accompanying them, Gwen could move the girls there and continue her surreptitious visits. A sojourn in the country for her and her nieces would be nothing short of perfect. It wouldn’t remove any possible threat, but it might make avoiding whatever problems might come a bit easier. If nothing else, it gave Gwen a welcome illusion of security and allowed her to actually do something rather than wait to see what might happen. She would send word to Madame later today, and with luck the girls would soon be safely in the country, at least for the moment. At once a weight lifted from Gwen’s shoulders and her mood lightened.

“Of course”—Marcus shrugged—“the village itself is not very big, you understand, but the countryside is quite scenic, especially at this time of year, and—”

“And you can breathe freely and feel the earth beneath your feet.”

An odd look crossed his face as if he were both embarrassed at having told her that and pleased she’d remembered.

“Something like that.” He cleared his throat. “As I was saying, it’s an especially lovely time of year. Much nicer there than in London.”

“Is it?” She tilted her head and studied him. “My dear Lord Pennington, are you trying to talk me into this?” She couldn’t resist a teasing grin. He really was terribly endearing.

“Don’t be absurd.” His tone was aloof, and she didn’t believe it for a moment. “I have interests that need attention at the estate, and I have already decided we shall leave as soon as possible.”

She stared at him for a moment, then laughed.

His brows pulled together. “What is so funny?”

“You.” She grinned. “You’re quite amusing when you’re being the cool, unemotional Lord Pennington who has firmly put his foot down and made an irrevocable decision.”

“Am I?” His tone was unchanged, but there was a definite twinkle in his eye.

“Indeed you are. Especially when you adopt that pompous manner of yours.”

“Pompous.” His mouth dropped open. “Pompous?”

“You may say it as often as you wish, my lord, it does not change the fact of it.”

“I am not pompous,” he said in a decidedly pompous manner.

She raised a brow.

He frowned. “Am I?”

She nodded.

He thought for a moment. “Is it better than being cold and unemotional?”

She grinned. “I find it quite entertaining.”

He narrowed his eyes and studied her for a long moment. “What precisely has happened to you, Gwen? You are…What’s the word I’m thinking of?”

“Happy?” she said innocently.

“Yes, that’s it.” He stared in a suspicious manner. “You look exceedingly happy. Why?”

“I’m not entirely sure.” She considered him thoughtfully. “This marriage of ours is working out far better than I had expected.”

“Is it?”

She nodded. “You are far better than I had expected.”

“Am I?”

“Yes, you are.” She laughed. “Why do you seem so surprised? You’ve never struck me as a man not thoroughly aware of his own worth. In truth, didn’t you tell me what an excellent catch you were?”

“I might have said something like that.”

“You’ve certainly never seemed to lack confidence in yourself or in your attraction for women.”

“Apparently marriage has changed me,” he muttered. “You have changed me.”

She stepped closer to him. “How could I possibly have changed you?”

“I don’t know but you have.” He narrowed his eyes. “I am not at all happy.”

“Don’t be absurd, Marcus,” she scoffed. “You haven’t anything to be unhappy about.”

“Don’t I?” His voice was soft.

“Of course not,” she said firmly. “You’ve maintained your fortune. You’ve avoided marriage to someone completely unsuitable—”

“Have I?”

“Yes. I was handpicked by your father, and your mother likes me, as does your closest friend.”

She slipped her arms around his neck. “You are quite lucky, my lord.”

His brows drew together. “What are you doing?”

She sighed. “You seem to ask that a great deal.” She brought her lips to his and brushed them seductively across his mouth until he responded. He gathered her closer and kissed her with a fierce intensity that quite took her breath away.

The familiar sense of need rose within her, and she wondered how terribly improper it would be to make love here in the parlor in the middle of the afternoon.

His lips moved from hers to explore her neck and the base of her throat. “I am a fool, Lady Pennington.”

Her head dropped back and she clutched at his arms. “Are you, Lord Pennington? Why?”

“It scarcely matters.” His hands roamed eagerly down her back and over her derrière. “Suffice it to say, I have listened to my own ridiculous doubts based on nothing of substance instead of following what my head has told me.”

She pressed closer against him to feel his arousal growing hard against her. “I daresay that’s not your head speaking now.”

He laughed. “No, it most assuredly is not.” Without warning he scooped her up in his arms and carried her toward the door. “However, my head is saying the parlor is most definitely not the proper place to continue this discussion.”

She kissed his neck. “Godfrey would be scandalized.”

“To hell with Godfrey,” Marcus muttered. He reached the door and stopped to gaze down at her, his look questioning. “Are you certain you wish to go to the country and leave London?”

“Well, not this very moment.” She tugged at the knot of his cravat. “Tomorrow is soon enough.”

“You shall miss a great number of parties, you know. Balls, routs, that sort of thing.”

“I have missed them before.” She frowned at his cravat. “I cannot get this blasted thing untied.”

He chuckled. “Patience, my dear.”

“Patience is a virtue I have never had in abundance.” She sighed and gazed up at him. “I think the country sounds wonderful.”

“Does it?”

“It does indeed. It’s been years since I’ve spent any time at all in the English countryside. Even when I was a girl I was away at school far more often then I was at Townsend Park.”

He stared down at her with a bemused smile. “You really do want to go?”

“I want to go anywhere as long as you are there,” she said without thinking, then wished she could take back the words. It was an admission she wasn’t ready to make. “Yes, of course. Spring in the country. Why, who would possibly not wish to go?”

“Why did you marry me, Gwen?” His tone was abruptly serious.

“What an odd question.” She trailed her fingers over his shirt and marveled at the way his muscles tensed beneath the fabric. “You needed this marriage. Our fathers thought it was for the best. Beyond that”—she smiled up at him—“I suppose I married you for all the usual reasons. You, my lord, are an exceedingly good catch.”

“And you, Lady Pennington”—he shifted her in his arms and pulled open the door, then proceeded toward the stairs—“are really quite extraordinary.”

A subdued gasp sounded from the shadows and Marcus grinned. “Godfrey,” he called to the unseen butler, “we shall leave for the country in the morning. Please see to the arrangements.”

“Yes, my lord.” Godfrey’s voice rang with a subtle note of resignation. Gwen giggled and buried her head against her husband’s chest. “He still does not approve of me.”

“Godfrey does not particularly approve of anyone. Besides, his approval is of no consequence.”

Marcus took the stairs two at a time. “You are the lady of the house and as such, he is in your service.”

Marcus reached his bedchamber and pushed the door open. “He will approve the moment he realizes what I have discovered.” He stepped into the room and kicked the door shut. His gaze, dark and green and promising, met hers. “I am indeed a lucky man.”

Chapter Thirteen

There is nothing more delightful than a man in love. Unless of course it is a wealthy man in love.
Colette de Chabot

“You can see most of the estate from here.” Marcus settled back in his saddle and studied the view he knew even with his eyes closed. This rise on the very edge of the estate, not a proper hill really but high enough to suit, with its lone beech tree as a sort of sentinel, had been one of his favorite spots since he’d been old enough to sit a horse.