Love With the Proper Husband (28 page)

“Again my apologies.” Sarcasm dripped from Marcus’s words.

“Accepted. I know you, Marcus. I knew once your heart was finally involved there would be no halfway measures for you.” Reggie aimed his glass at Marcus. “You’ve never been in love before. Love has always made me quite irrational, and frankly I expected a certain measure of insanity from you as well.”

“Thank you for your vote of confidence, but I have always prided myself on remaining collected in the face of disaster.”

“You’re quite welcome. But you’ve never faced a disaster like this. Who knew how it might affect you? You might well have shot the messenger.”

“I still might,” Marcus muttered.

“I knew I was taking my life in my hands, worse still, risking our friendship, but ultimately I realized I had no choice but to tell you. I owe you that even if, in the end, you hated me.” Reggie studied him carefully. “What are you going to do?”

“As I see it, I have several choices.” Marcus sipped at his brandy, his mind churning with the possibilities. “I can do what I have always done and back away. Allow the lady in question to go her own way. Of course, this is not simply any lady, this is my wife. Or I could fight for her.”

“And?”

“And I may well be fooling myself, but I am confident this can all be explained. I am confident as well Gwen cares for me; she might even love me. Furthermore, I don’t believe what has passed between us since our marriage has been nothing more than an act on her part.” He shrugged. “I could, of course, be wrong.”

“But you don’t think you are?”

“No, I don’t. Or at least I hope I’m not. I doubt that she is that good an actress.” Marcus turned and paced the room, trying to work through the assorted thoughts in his head. “In those instances in the past when I was involved with a woman, I always held back my emotions, rightly so as it turned out. Therefore, it was not especially difficult for me to do the honorable thing and yield my position to another man. Now, however, I have lost my heart to, of all people, my wife. I will not give her up.” He stopped and met Reggie’s gaze. “She is my life.”

“Then…” Reggie drew the word out in a deliberate manner. “You choose to fight for her?”

“I cannot live without her,” Marcus said simply, knowing it was nothing less than the truth. Determination swept through him. He would not give her up. He was confident she had not betrayed him, but if by some slim chance he was wrong, he would start over. They would start over. He would court her and charm her and seduce her again and again if necessary. He would do anything to keep this woman he loved in his life, in his bed, and by his side for the rest of his days.

“I never thought I’d hear you say that.” Reggie blew a long breath. “I’m really quite impressed.”

“Thank you.” Marcus strode to the desk, slapped his glass down, and started toward the door.

“Where are you going?”

“To the dower house. I’m going to get to the bottom of this. Mind you, I still believe there is an innocent explanation, or at least an explanation other than the conclusion you’ve reached, but Gwen is involved in something, and I want to know what it is.”

“So much for respecting her independence and her privacy.”

Marcus snorted. “You
believed
that?”

“It sounded good,” Reggie murmured. “Wait for me.”

Marcus glanced over his shoulder. “You’re coming, then?”

“I wouldn’t miss it.” Reggie grinned, and Marcus noted his friend’s usual nature was once again restored. “Marcus?”

“Yes?”

Reggie drew a deep breath. “I hope I’m wrong.”

“I have no doubt of it,” Marcus said with a confidence he didn’t completely feel. “Besides”—

Marcus grinned—“you have been wrong many times before and will be again.”

And Marcus prayed this time was no different.

“That’s his horse,” Reggie said under his breath.

“Then he’s still here.” Marcus studied the scene thoughtfully.

There was a carriage parked to the side of the house. The dower house had no stables of its own, but no horses for the vehicle were in evidence. Nor was Gwen’s horse to be seen, and Marcus was at once disappointed and relieved. Whatever was going on here, it would not involve a confrontation with his wife. At least not yet.

“Come on, then.” Marcus directed his horse to the yard and dismounted. Reggie followed suit, and the pair started toward the door.

On the ride from the hall. Marcus had decided the best way to approach this was with total innocence. He had a legitimate interest in the purchase of the house. It was only natural that he come to present his offer in person.

Without warning, the door opened. A tall, distinguished gentleman stepped out, his figure blocking the face of the woman behind him.

Reggie nudged Marcus. “Isn’t that the Duke of—”

“Indeed it is,” Marcus said softly. Was this the owner of the property? He drew a deep breath and stepped forward. “Good day, Your Grace.”

“Pennington? And Berkley.” The duke laughed ruefully. “I should have known I might run into you two in this part of the world.” He glanced back over his shoulder. “It seems, my dear, we have been found out.”

Marcus’s heart caught.

A vaguely familiar laugh sounded behind the duke, delightful and utterly feminine. Madame de Chabot stepped into sight and extended her hand. “Lord Pennington, what a pleasant surprise.”

“Madame.” Relief choked Marcus’s voice. He took her hand and raised it to his lips. “This is indeed a pleasant surprise.” He turned to Reggie. “Lord Berkley, you remember Madame de Chabot?

She is a dear friend of my wife’s.”

“Of course.” Reggie’s eyes widened with realization, and he grabbed her hand with unrestrained enthusiasm. “I could scarcely forget such a remarkably lovely creature.”

The duke cleared his throat, and Reggie dropped her hand at once.

She laughed. “I could never forget you either, my lord.”

“Pardon me, Madame,” Marcus said slowly, “but am I to understand you are residing here?”

“For the moment,” she said with an amused smile. “Although in truth I am no more than a guest.”

“I believe it’s past time for explanations, my dear. Lord Pennington deserves to know precisely what is afoot here,” the duke said firmly.

Madame’s gaze met the duke’s. “But it is not my secret to tell,
mon chér
.”

“Nonetheless, at this point you cannot leave him with the endless questions that he obviously has. And, as I believe Lord Berkley may well have been the gentleman I saw at a distance upon my arrival today”—he glanced at Reggie, who smiled weakly—“Lord Pennington’s questions can no longer wait.”

She lifted a shoulder in a delicate shrug. “If you think it’s best.”

“I do. And, as those questions for the most part do not involve me, and the day grows late, I shall take my leave.” The duke took Madame’s hand and lifted it to his lips. His gaze never left hers, and a look of such intensity passed between them, Marcus was compelled to avert his eyes, as if he watched something deeply intimate between the couple. He glanced at Reggie, who stared unabashedly. Marcus jabbed him with his elbow, and Reggie cast him an annoyed glare.

“I would be most appreciative, gentlemen”—the duke directed his words to Marcus and Reggie

—“if you would keep my presence here to yourselves. I would not wish to sully Madame de Chabot’s reputation with idle gossip.”

“I do not care, Edward,” she said fiercely, gazing up at him.

“But I do.” He smiled down at her, and Marcus knew without a doubt that these two were deeply in love.

He knew the duke’s circumstances, of course, no one in England didn’t. His Grace’s wife was insane and had been throughout the length of their marriage, a dozen years or so, Marcus thought. The rumor was, she was mad even before they wed and the duke was tricked into the marriage, but his honor would not permit divorce.

“Of course, Your Grace,” Marcus said. Reggie nodded his agreement.

“Thank you.” The duke cast a last lingering glance at Madame de Chabot, then mounted his horse and rode off.

She watched him for a long moment and sighed. Then she straightened her shoulders and cast Marcus a knowing smile. “You think your wife has betrayed you, no?”

“No, of course not,” Marcus said quickly, knowing full well she would not entirely believe him.

“
I
thought his wife had betrayed him.” Reggie grimaced.

“You?” She raised an amused brow. “But you are so charming, so lighthearted. I would not imagine you to be so suspicious.”

Reggie stared at the ground mournfully. “I was a fool.”

“Yes, you were.” She laughed. “But you are a man, and such things as foolishness cannot be completely avoided.”

“Madame.” Marcus stepped forward. “Both Lord Berkley and I have been guilty of reaching unsubstantiated conclusions. But I wish you to know I care a great deal about Miss Townsend, Gwen, and—”

“He’s in love with her,” Reggie said in a smug whisper.

“How delightful.” Madame de Chabot beamed.

“For the most part it is delightful.” Marcus shook his head. “However, it has also made me act in ways that are contrary to my nature. Indeed, there have been moments since I met her when I have found myself being, well, rather emotional and quite irrational.”

“That is indeed love, my lord.” She laughed, then sobered and considered him thoughtfully. “And with love comes acceptance of the one we care for, does it not?”

“I would think so,” Marcus said.

“Acceptance of those things that are not anticipated but accompany each of us nonetheless. Those little pieces of, oh what am I trying to say”—she searched for the right word—“life, as it were. Unresolved situations from our past or irrational feelings we have not yet come to grips with or something more substantial like, oh, family obligations.”

“Lady Pennington has no family. She’s an orphan,” Reggie pointed out. Madame de Chabot heaved a sigh. “My dear Lord Berkley, you are indeed charming and I realize you are doing your best to be helpful, but perhaps, just for the moment, it would be best if you were to restrain from any further comment.”

Reggie bristled with indignation. “I was simply trying—”

“Quiet, Reggie,” Marcus said.

“
Merci
.” She cast Reggie a smile guaranteed to dissolve even the staunchest reserve. The duke was a very lucky man.

“Francesca,” she called through the open doorway. “We have visitors.”

“Madame Freneau is here too?” Marcus drew his brows together. Perhaps the duke didn’t own the house? Or he did but—

“Visitors?” Madame Freneau appeared in the doorway. Her eyes widened at the sight of Marcus.

“Lord Pennington? What on earth are you doing here?”

“Precisely the question I was about to ask you,” Marcus said wryly.

“Madame Freneau.” Reggie stepped forward and took the lady’s hand. “It is indeed a pleasure to see you again.” Reggie raised her hand to his lips and murmured, “A very great pleasure.”

Marcus stared at his friend and realized he had seen that look on Reggie’s face before. And at the moment he could certainly understand it. Madame Freneau’s appearance and her demeanor were substantially more casual and relaxed than he’d seen before. Her fair hair tumbled about her shoulders, and her checks were flushed. Marcus had known she was younger than he, but the maturity of her bearing had always made her seem older. He’d never realized how lovely she was. And judging by Reggie’s reaction, he’d never realized it either.

She pulled her hand from Reggie’s and favored him with a smile every bit as intoxicating as her sister-in-law’s. “It is a pleasure to see you as well.”

“I’m certain we are all pleased to see everyone,” Marcus interrupted, “but I confess, I am thoroughly confused. Will someone please tell me what is going on here?”

“He is not at all pleasant when he’s confused,” Reggie said in a confidential aside to Madame Freneau.

“I can certainly see that.” Madame Freneau shook her head. “Still, it is not my secret to tell.”

Marcus ignored a rising sense of irritation. “I quite frankly no longer care whose secret it is. I want answers and I want them now!”

Neither woman seemed especially impressed by his demand. They exchanged glances, then Madame Freneau drew a deep breath. “Very well, my lord. This is not how I imagined this particular moment. Indeed, I had not planned to be present at all.”

“Nor had I.” Madame de Chabot shrugged. “In truth, Gwendolyn agreed not an hour ago that she would confess all to you tonight. I believe she said you are usually in very good spirits”—the Frenchwoman gazed up at him innocently—“right before bed.”

Reggie snickered. “No doubt.”

“Quiet,” Marcus snapped, then turned his attention back to the women. “Now then, ladies, if you please.”

“I suppose it can no longer be avoided,” Madame Freneau said with an air of resignation, her gaze slipping past him.

“Apparently not.” Madame de Chabot too looked at something behind him. Marcus glared. “What are you—”

Reggie laughed. “Turn around, Marcus. You should see this.”

“I’m not sure I want to,” Marcus muttered and turned. “Good Lord.”

Three children, three
girls
, stood a scant few feet away and glared at him with all the defiant indignation of youth. They were of varying heights, with varying shades of red hair. Their appearance had the carefree dishevelment of a day spent in serious play out of doors. Indeed, the middle girl had a smudge of dirt on her cheek.

And each and every one bore a distinct resemblance to his wife.

“Who…” He stared in disbelief. “What…”

They stared right back. He amended his original assessment. It wasn’t merely youthful indignation on their faces: it was feminine indignation.

Reggie cleared his throat. “Shouldn’t someone say something?”

“Him first.” The smallest pointed at Marcus.

“Who are you?” Marcus blurted.

“Marcus. Where are your manners?” Reggie rolled his gaze toward the sky. “That’s not at all the way to greet three obviously accomplished young ladies.” He stepped toward the children. “Allow me to introduce myself and my rather impolite friend. I am Viscount Berkley and this is the Earl of Pennington.”