Sweet Madness: A Veiled Seduction Novel (20 page)

She screamed when she came, the sound wrenching from her as indeed she spun with the dizzying pleasure. It was like nothing she’d felt before. His mouth stayed on her, drawing every bit of it from her before he finally released her.

As her breathing subsided enough to speak, she admitted, “You were right. It was worth it.”

Gabriel’s husky chuckle vibrated against her skin as he placed a kiss against her inner thigh. “Oh, Pen, that was just the beginning.”

Her breath caught in her chest as he rose, wondering how anything could possibly be better than that. But Gabriel spent the next hours answering that question decisively. By the time he took his own pleasure within her, there wasn’t a place on her body that he hadn’t worshipped with his hands and mouth. She’d peaked twice more by the time he entered her, and even then, it was with slow, steady thrusts that wrung even more pleasure from her exhausted flesh.

Who knew it could be like this?
she wondered more than once during their lovemaking. Part of her whispered that it was more than just technique, but she didn’t want to think about that. All she knew was that after making love to Gabriel, she would never be the same again.

And she didn’t want to think about that, either.

T
wo hours before they were due to depart for the coming evening’s assembly, Penelope made her way along the long gallery to her room to dress. She’d instructed the maid to lay out the only ball gown she owned that would be appropriate for the small country affair: a simple dress of fine gray muslin woven with stripes of black and trimmed with black satin. Additional angled bands of satin decorated the front and back, too, as well as created an attractive vee along the bodice.

The empire waist was slightly out of date. She’d had the gown made when she’d gone into half-mourning eighteen months ago, but she’d never worn it. No matter. She doubted anyone here would judge her for wearing a dress that was no longer in the height of fashion.

If anyone would be let down by her attire, it would be Gabriel. He’d known she’d sent for part of her wardrobe after their discussion two weeks ago, and every morning that she emerged from her chamber still wearing black, she saw the disappointment in his face. He hadn’t mentioned her choice, however, for which she was grateful.

Because she was frustrated with herself, too. But for whatever reason, she couldn’t bring herself to don one of the colored dresses that had arrived last week. She’d tried for an hour to put on a lovely lavender day dress the morning after her trunks showed up, but the effort had left her physically ill. After some reflection she realized that she’d been wearing a lavender gown the afternoon that Michael had exploded at her in his studio—the morning her perfectly happy life had begun to unravel. She didn’t think she’d ever be able to wear the color again.

Even the other pretty gowns now hanging in her wardrobe seemed to mock her. She’d stare at them every morning, an array of yellows, blues, creams and pinks—remnants of her old life. She’d run her hands over the rich fabrics and imagine herself wearing them—would even select one for the day. But in the end, she’d arrive in the breakfast room in one of the black gowns that had been both her penance and her protection during the past two years.

She couldn’t believe she hadn’t seen what she’d been doing all this time, especially given how she’d helped so many others discover their unconscious associations. Perhaps she’d just not looked at herself closely enough, so focused as she’d been on others to drown out her own pain. Or perhaps she’d been unknowingly eschewing the frivolous life she’d led before. But now that she was aware of what she was doing, she still clung to her blacks, even though Gabriel insisted they were antithetical to who she was. How could he know that? Even she wasn’t sure who she was anymore.

Penelope entered her rooms to find the maid already there, pouring hot water into a ewer and setting out combs, brushes and other such accoutrements in preparation to ready her for the evening. She started to loosen her bodice when her eyes were drawn to the gown hanging over the dressing screen.

Her breath caught in her throat even as her feet stilled, for rather than the gray gown she’d expected, there hung a flowing creation of jonquil silk satin. Though very simple, the dress featured a lowered waist and wider skirt, as was the current style, and was trimmed with silk bobbin lace in the same cheerful shade of yellow.

“Where did this come from?” she asked, but she already knew. Gabriel was somehow responsible for it.

“I dunno, m’lady,” the maid answered, frowning. “I laid out the gray, like you told me. But when I came back from fetching the hot water, this is what I found in its place. I thought you must have changed your mind,” she said, eyeing her uncertainly.

Penelope flicked her eyes to the inner door that joined her chamber to Gabriel’s via a shared private sitting room, then returned her gaze to the maid and tried to cover. “It must have just arrived, then. I’d ordered it earlier,” she lied, “but hadn’t hoped it would be ready in time for tonight’s ball. I am pleased to be wrong.”

The maid nodded at her explanation and went back to her task. “It’s lovely, m’lady. And much better suited to your coloring, I’d say. You are going to look very beautiful tonight.”

Penelope had to concur as she stared at the dress. She couldn’t believe Gabriel had purchased her a ball gown, nor did she know how he’d managed it. Her adherence to black must have bothered him more than she’d thought. Since he’d gone to such effort, she had to wear it, didn’t she?

She hurried through her ablutions, wondering at his motivations. She remembered him covering the painted black dress with yellow that afternoon in the long gallery.
That is who you are, Pen,
he’d said.
And I think it’s time that you find your way back to her.
Was this gown his way of pushing her in that direction? Or had he purchased the dress for himself? Maybe he was afraid of how he’d react in the ballroom tonight and wished for his “talisman” to look as he remembered her, keeping his darkness at bay in her dress of sunny yellow.

Her mind was still reeling at his revelation. She wasn’t certain how she felt about it, either. But if Gabriel needed her to wear yellow to feel safer or stronger, she could manage it for one evening.

However, as she gazed at her reflection in the mirror once she was fully dressed, Penelope wondered if he would be getting what he’d hoped for. She didn’t
feel
like a ray of early-summer sunshine. Oh, the gown was lovely, the color warm and perfect. It was
she
who was different. She had dark places inside now that weren’t there before, and she was certain they showed.

But if they did, Gabriel didn’t seem to notice.

“Pen,” he breathed when she entered the parlor where Liliana and Geoffrey were waiting to see them off.

She colored under his hot gaze. Since they’d become lovers, she was quickly getting used to that particular look in his eyes, but this time there was more to it. There was passion, yes, but also tenderness. Endearment. And immense pleasure and pride. The look upon his face made her doubly glad she’d worn the yellow.

They opted for an open gig to the neighboring estate where the ball was being held, in deference to Gabriel’s dislike of closed spaces. The night was cold and crisp but clear. Penelope didn’t mind wrapping up in a heavier cloak if it meant Gabriel would have an easier time of it. Taking the gig rather than the carriage also afforded them privacy, as they were able to drive themselves.

“Thank you for the dress,” she murmured as they started down the lane leading away from Somerton Park.

“Thank
you
for wearing it,” he answered, his voice low and suspiciously rough. She barely heard it over the clopping of hooves.

“It fits me exactly,” she said. “However did you manage it?”

His wry grin flashed in the cool moonlight and was illuminated further by the warm flicker of the lantern that hung from the pole near his face. “I filched a gown from your wardrobe, of course. I took it to the draper I’d noticed in the mining village and inquired whether he could do what I wanted. He was able to get the fabric and lace from a shop in town and he and his wife worked night and day to get it done for me. I know it’s far from the elaborate gowns you used to wear to such soirees—”

“No. It’s perfect, Gabriel.” And it was, she realized. The simple, modern style was very different than she’d ever worn, which she found she liked, because it didn’t feel to her as if she were trying to step back into who she’d been before. Maybe that’s why it hadn’t bothered her so much to put it on, as her old clothes seemed to.

His grin turned to a genuine smile before he turned his attention to driving them.

The trip to the home of Mr. and Mrs. James Bell took only a few minutes given the brightness of the moon and the well-maintained roads in this part of Shropshire.

“I’ve been thinking about tonight,” Gabriel said as they made the turn onto the drive of the early Georgian manor. “If our main purpose for attending is truly to see whether our work together has helped me conquer my aversion to crowded ballrooms—and therefore that this association theory of yours is making me better—then I think I should try it alone.”

She turned toward him and frowned.

“The thing is,” he went on, “I was able to manage it before when you were by my side, and not so much when you were not. For me to trust that I’m improving, I need to face it on my own.”

“Without your talisman,” she said.

“Precisely,” he said, though his voice didn’t sound quite as confident as his words. “I’d like to go in together, but after we’ve greeted our hosts, I’d ask you to retreat to a retiring room or such and let me go into the ballroom without you.” He gave her a smile. “If I’ve not run screaming from the place within a quarter hour, we can assume I’ve met with success.”

“All right.” She nodded slowly, understanding his reasons but not necessarily liking the idea.

The gig swayed to a halt in front of the well-lit manor house. Penelope was taken aback by the amount of activity going on around them. Carriages were backed up, letting passengers out, while others were parked wherever there was room on the drive. A harried-looking servant stepped forward to take the reins. Penelope didn’t miss the odd look at their choice of conveyance. Gabriel leapt down first and offered his hand to Penelope to assist her, placing her gloved hand upon his arm as they made their way to the house.

Music and conversation spilled from the open door of the manor as they neared. Bell Hall was not nearly as large as Somerton Park, but it was still a grand country home. Having been to a couple of affairs here two years past, Penelope remembered that the ballroom wasn’t far from the entrance. The Bells’ soirees were generally very well attended, packing nearly most of the area’s residents into the small space. Judging from how many revelers lingered in the foyer and parlor, tonight’s to-do was even more so.

Gabriel’s arm was tight beneath her hand, but he gave no outward show of nerves. Penelope resisted offering any words of reassurance, letting him do this his way.

After their cloaks were taken by a servant, they moved into line to greet their hosts in the parlor just off of the ballroom.

“Lady Manton,” Mrs. Bell said warmly when they reached her and her husband. “How fortunate we are that you are visiting your cousin at the same time as our little fete.”

“The good fortune is mine,” she returned with a smile. “Lady Stratford sends her regrets, but as her lie-in is fast approaching . . .”

The older woman laughed. “Ah, yes. I well remember those days, having borne five of my own—all daughters, mind you,” she said, her assessing gaze shifting to Gabriel.

Penelope smiled as Gabriel’s eyes widened slightly. “May I introduce Lord Bromwich? Gabriel, Mr. and Mrs. Bell.” Not that an unmarried marquess needed any introduction. She was certain word of his stay in Shropshire, and his expected attendance here tonight, had reached the ears of every matchmaking mother in a twenty-mile radius. It might even be the reason the Hall seemed filled to overflowing. It looked to be a crush to rival any London ball she’d ever attended. She glanced over worriedly at Gabriel. Perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea to let him face this alone.

But after greeting his hosts and spending a few moments in masculine conversation with Mr. Bell, Gabriel made his excuses, leaving her to answer Mrs. Bell’s questions about him as he forged on to the ballroom. As Gabriel departed so did Mr. Bell, while several matrons found their way to where Penelope and her hostess chatted, wanting to appease their own curiosity about the very eligible marquess.

Penelope, however, had a difficult time keeping up with the conversation.
Yes, he was
the
Marquess of Bromwich. No, she didn’t know if he was in the market for a wife nor what kind of female he preferred. Yes, he
was
very rich, owning three estates, plus a palatial townhome off Grosvenor Square. No, she wasn’t aware of any mistresses or by-blows.
Instead her eyes kept straying to the ballroom door. She’d heard Gabriel being announced a few minutes ago, then nothing. Her insides twisted as time crawled by. How was he faring? Was he fighting off the urge to flee or had breaking his association of ballrooms to battlefields worked? She gritted her teeth harder with every tick of the nearby ormolu mantel clock. This waiting was awful!

Less than seven minutes in, she could no longer stand it. She extracted herself as politely as she could and quick-stepped her way into the ballroom. She had to shoulder her way past the clapping masses, who were clearly enjoying a rousing quadrille, but she finally broke through the crowd enough to scan the throngs of faces for his.

She saw him almost immediately and her breath caught in her throat. Gabriel wasn’t just in the room, he was
dancing.
More than that, he was smiling—grinning from ear to ear, to be more precise. Her hand came to her chest, which ached as she watched him. His was the smile of a man who’d been freed from a terrible burden. Her eyes pricked with tears. How happy—how grateful—she was to have played even a small part in making that happen.

His eyes found hers then, almost as if he’d sensed her presence even from across the crowded room. They flared with some intense emotion she felt all the way to her toes before glancing away to focus on his partner—the eldest Miss Bell, if she wasn’t mistaken.

Having seen that he was well, Penelope felt a strange urge to fade back into the crowd. He would find her if he had need of her. She found a spot very near a large potted plant and tucked herself against the wall where others would be discouraged from approaching her, but where she could still see Gabriel.

He was getting better. Even though she knew they had a long way to go, they were making significant progress. Relief welled up in her, causing the tears that had only been prickling threaten to fall and her hands to begin to tremble. She’d done the right thing, stealing him away from Vickering Place. Only now could she admit how terrified she’d been of making a mistake. Of making things worse. As she had with Michael.

But look at Gabriel now. As he laughed at something his partner must have said, Penelope marveled at how at home he seemed, where only weeks ago even the thought of being here had shaken him so badly he couldn’t breathe. Now
she
was the one hiding at the back of the ballroom like the wallflower she never was, shaking like a leaf.