Love With the Proper Husband (30 page)

She laughed. “My dear Lord Berkley, one would think you were trying to get me foxed.”

“Why, Lady Pennington, I’m shocked that you would think that.” Berkley’s voice was indignant but amusement twinkled in his eye. “I would never attempt such a thing with a married woman.” He paused. “At least not one married to a friend.”

“I’m so glad to know you have certain moral standards.”

“Oh, I do indeed.”

“I should hate to think you are a bad influence on my husband.”

“Nothing of the sort.” He lowered his voice in a confidential manner. “If anything, he has always been a bad influence on me.”

“Really?” She raised a brow.

“Well, perhaps not always.” He grinned and took a sip of his brandy. “In truth, we have always been an equally bad influence on one another.”

“Sherry.”

“What?”

“If you are going to tell tales about my husband, perhaps they would go better with sherry.”

“Excellent choice.” He crossed the room to what looked like another of the decorative half columns that encircled the library and pulled open a door she never suspected existed. He returned to the desk with a bottle and a glass, poured the sherry, and handed it to her. “Marcus has excellent taste.”

“Thank you.” Gwen had the distinct impression the viscount wasn’t merely referring to the wine.

“I must tell you, I quite approve of this match between the two of you.”

“Do you?”

“I do indeed, although I am compelled to confess, I once harbored a vague hope he would turn his affections toward my sister and become, through marriage, my brother, but that was not to be.”

“Really?” She ignored a definite twinge of jealousy toward this sister of the viscount. “Did your sister not care for Lord Pennington?”

“Oh, she has adored him always. Unfortunately, she adores her dogs and horses a great deal more.” He grinned. “She is barely fifteen and Marcus has always viewed her with the same annoyance and affection as I have. As a little sister.”

“I see.” Gwen smiled and sipped the sherry. “So, my lord, why are you so approving of his marriage to me? This match was not entirely his choice.”

“No, but I think it has turned out for the best.” He studied her thoughtfully. “Marcus has always been reserved when it comes to his feelings. Much of the time, even I have not known precisely what he was thinking.” He raised his glass to her. “You, my dear Lady Pennington, have broken down that reserve.”

“Have I?”

“Indeed you have.” He smiled ruefully. “With you he has found what he did not expect but has always wanted. From what I’ve seen thus far, you are very good for him. I never thought I’d admit such a thing, but I am exceedingly jealous of his good fortune.”

His words warmed her heart. “That is perhaps the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

“Are you flirting with my wife again?” Marcus’s voice sounded from the doorway.

“Again and always.” Berkley clapped his hand over his heart. “You have caught me, old man, I was trying to convince her to toss you aside and run away with me.”

“And was it working?” Marcus strode to her side and took her hands in his. His laughing gaze meshed with hers. “Are you about to abandon me and go off with this…this scoundrel?” He raised her hands to his lips. “I should not bear it, you know.”

“Nor should I,” she said softly, staring into his eyes. A faint voice in the back of her mind whispered softly.
Fate.

Berkley groaned. “There you have it. Once again we are back to the crux of the problem. If I were a scoundrel, she’d be off with me in a moment.”

She laughed and pulled her hands from her husband’s. “Never, my lord.”

Marcus grinned. “Reggie has a theory that women find irresistible those men who are no good for them.”

“It’s not a theory,” Berkley said loftily. “I have given a great deal of thought and study to the question, and I believe it to be a fact. What do you think, my lady?”

She shook her head. “I think you need to give it substantially more thought.”

“Actually,” Marcus said slowly. “I think there is some validity to the idea that a touch of those qualities that are perhaps less than sterling can be quite intriguing. Don’t you agree, my dear?”

She pulled her brows together. “Most certainly not.”

He continued as if he hadn’t heard her. “And not just in terms of men but when it comes to women as well.”

“There’s nothing like a woman with a secret, I always say.” Berkley nodded firmly. “It makes a lady mysterious and rather intoxicating.”

“Taking your theory a step further then”—Marcus’s brows drew together—“it would stand to reason that ladies we find, to use your term,
intoxicating
—”

“It’s an excellent term,” Berkley said smugly.

“Indeed it is.” Marcus nodded. “The point is: if a lady is indeed
intoxicating
it would make sense that she would, of necessity, have a secret.”

Gwen stared in disbelief. “That’s absurd.”

“Even if we didn’t know she had a secret, there would still be something about her.” Marcus’s voice was thoughtful. “Some sort of air about her. Like a lingering perfume that you’re always aware of or—”

“A tune that lurks in the back of your mind but you can’t quite place,” Berkley said.

“Exactly. She’s a mystery you cannot seem to solve, probably because you haven’t the faintest idea what questions to ask. Although, personally, I have always enjoyed a bit of a mystery.” Marcus moved to the desk and picked up his glass. “Yes indeed, unraveling a mystery is an excellent exercise for one’s mind.”

“Is it?” Gwen had the uncomfortable feeling that the men were talking about something entirely different than their words would indicate. “I much prefer things to be entirely straightforward myself.”

“Do you?” Marcus raised a brow.

“Yes I do.” Her voice was firm, but unease settled in her stomach.

“I would never have thought that,” Marcus murmured and sipped at his brandy. “Do you have secrets, Gwen?”

“Me?” Her voice came out in an odd squeak. She cleared her throat. “No.” She paused. “Of course not.” This would be the perfect time to tell him about the girls. “I suppose we all have some sort of minor secrets.” But Berkley was here and she had no idea if that would work to her favor or her detriment. “I daresay mine are not at all significant.” Still, it was probably better to tell her new husband he had a complete family in private. “But at the moment”—she smiled sweetly—“I can’t think of a thing.”

“Oh come now, my dear Gwendolyn.” Marcus studied her curiously. “I’d wager you have at least one substantial secret.”

“Perhaps even two,” Berkley added helpfully.

Marcus nodded. “Or three.”

“Ah, but if I were to tell you, it would take all the fun out of it, wouldn’t it?” She took a quick sip of her sherry, for a moment wishing desperately it was brandy, and searched just as desperately for a less dangerous topic of conversation. After all, she hadn’t blatantly lied to him thus far. And it did seem a shame to do so now when she was so close to telling him everything. “So, she said brightly, “Godfrey said the two of you had gone for a ride today. It was a lovely day. Did you have a pleasant time?”

“Very pleasant.” Berkley grinned.

“More than pleasant,” Marcus added. “It is the oddest thing, but even though I have spent much of my life here, I almost never fail to see something new and interesting, especially in the spring. Don’t you agree, Reggie?”

“Absolutely.”

“How nice,” Gwen murmured. She had no particular interest in whatever newfound sights the season had brought, but as long as Marcus was no longer talking about secrets, spring on the estate was as good a topic as any.

“Not all of it is pleasant, of course,” Marcus said. “Spring does tend to make you aware of repairs that need attention.”

“Always.” Berkley nodded.

Gwen sipped her sherry and feigned rapt attention.

“Indeed, even though I no longer own it, I did notice quite a bit of work needs to be done on”—

he paused—“the dower house.”

The dower house? Gwen choked on her wine.
When was he at the dower house?

Marcus started toward her. “Are you all right?”

“A firm blow between the shoulder blades will help,” Berkley offered. Gwen held up her hand to stop them both and choked out the words. “No, thank you. I’m quite all right.”

“Are you sure?” Marcus’s tone was concerned but there was a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. She blinked back tears, sniffed, and met her husband’s gaze directly. She stared at him for a long moment. Marcus could barely keep the smile from his face. He had the look of a man who had the upper hand and well knew it. She glanced at Berkley, who had the grace to avert his eyes, but he too failed to hide his grin. Again her gaze returned to her husband.

At once she realized he knew all about the girls. Why, he’d probably even met them. And just as obviously, if he was this amused, he wasn’t at all upset. Relief rushed through her, accompanied by more than a touch of annoyance. Why didn’t he just tell her what he knew? What kind of cat-and-mouse game was he playing?

She crossed her arms over her chest and glared. “Well?”

“Well, what?” Marcus said cautiously.

“As this has nothing really to do with me…” Berkley edged toward the door. “And surely I’m needed elsewhere.” He reached the door and slipped out.

She barely noticed. “Aren’t you going to tell me what you’ve learned? Or ask me questions or something?”

Marcus studied her thoughtfully. “I don’t think so.”

She stared. “Why not?”

He shrugged. “There’s no need. I know everything I need to know.”

“Do you?” she said carefully.

“Indeed I do, and what I don’t know precisely, I have managed to figure out. And probably quite accurately as well.” He grinned in an annoyingly smug manner. “Shall I go on?”

“Please do.”

“First of all, you agreed to marry me to get your inheritance so that you could provide for your nieces. Quite admirable really.” He sipped his brandy. “You didn’t tell me about them because you didn’t trust me.”

She started to protest, then stopped. After all, he was right.

“Granted, in the beginning you had no reason to trust me. You didn’t even know me. You had no way of knowing whether I would welcome these children into my home or not.” He shook his head. “I have given a great deal of thought to this and it is understandable. Until me, there hadn’t been a single man in your life who had earned your trust.”

She lifted her chin. “You needn’t feel sorry for me.”

“I don’t,” he said simply. “Or at least I don’t now. I do, however, feel sorry for the child who grew up feeling unwanted. And for the girl who was told her father had left her penniless. And for the young woman who found herself the object of unwanted attentions by her employers and other men.” He narrowed his eyes. “But I haven’t the least bit of sympathy for the current Countess of Pennington, who has three little girls who, albeit somewhat reluctantly, have some affection for her, and a new mother-in-law who adores her, and a husband who”—he shrugged—“has discovered himself to be deeply in love with her.”

Her breath caught. “You’re in love with me?”

“Insane as it may sound.” He set his glass down on the desk and smiled wryly. “I am.”

“But”—she shook her head against the flurry of thoughts and emotions swirling in her head—“we agreed that you wouldn’t.”

“Yes, well, in that and that alone”—he started toward her—“you should not have trusted me.”

“Don’t come any closer,” she said sharply.

“Why not?” He grinned wickedly and continued toward her. “This is the point at which I take you in my arms and we promise to love one another until the end of our days.” He reached out to pull her into his embrace but she stepped away.

An odd sense of panic filled her. “I can’t promise that, Marcus.”

“Why not?” His brow furrowed. “We have no more secrets between us. I am more than willing to raise these girls as my own. In truth, I quite like them. Almost as much as I like their aunt.”

“But”—she struggled for the right words—“I don’t love you.”

He studied her carefully, then grinned. “I don’t believe you.”

She gasped. “It’s true. Granted, I feel a certain amount of affection for you. And I do like you a great deal. And admittedly I do feel”—she blurted the words—“lust for you.”

He laughed and pulled her into his arms. “Lust?”

“Yes.” She stared up at him defiantly. “I believe I am, well, in lust with you.”

“In lust with me?” He laughed again, then bent to feather kisses along the side of her neck. “How delightful.”

“You don’t mind, then?” she said, struggling against the weakness in her knees his touch always

triggered.

“Not in the least,” he murmured. “I will take lust for the moment.”

“What do you mean, for the moment?”

“My darling Lady Pennington.” He raised his head and looked into her eyes, and she resisted the urge to melt against him. “It has taken me a very long time to find love. And I suspect it will take a fair amount of time for you to accept that I may be trusted. With your future and the future of your nieces and the future of our children. However, I believe you already trust me with your heart, whether you’re willing to face that yet or not.” His lips met hers, and he kissed her with a passion and desire that quite took her breath away. He drew his head back and grinned down at her. “You may call it lust all you wish but you love me, Gwen, and I shall spend every hour of the next seven and a half years in a concerted effort to make you admit it. Beginning right now.”