The Bargain Bride (17 page)

“Have you seen his recent work?” That was what the trunk contained, too valuable, Penny said, to be entrusted to mere servants.

“No, but he is famous, ain't he? And Marcel promises to invent a neckcloth just for me.”

Anything would be better than the spotted rag Nicky now wore.

“Marcel is going to call it the Westmoreland Fall. I prefer the Nicholas Knot, don't you know. But capital fellow, Marcel. Knows everything there is to know about bootblacking. And Mrs. Bigglesworth patted my cheek, just like an old auntie.”

“Mrs. Bigglesworth, the cook?”

“That's right. She promised to make me raspberry tarts. What a treasure, and she is already thick as thieves with Mrs. Parker, who is thrilled to be getting out of the kitchens, what little time she spent there. I am looking forward to a decent meal at home, let me tell you, after sharing the tray Mrs. B. sent up for Mr. Littleton.”

West hadn't received any food at all. That must be why, he realized, his temper was so foul.

He also realized that Nicky would rather talk than carry, so he pointed him to his end of the trunk.

His brother was not finished. “When a chap dines in company, he is expected to pay, you know, either with coin or reciprocal invitations or with doing the pretty for the host's ugly daughters. Now that we are above hatches, we will be able to hold dinner parties for our chums. So this marriage thing is going to work out fine. I had my doubts at first, but now I see the advantages. You did well, bro.”

West thought so, too, except for the spying servants, the three wagons still to be unloaded, his interfering father-in-law, and the fact that his wife was as prickly as a hedgehog.

Some backbreaking hours later, West passed his bride in the hall. She was as disheveled as he was, still in her creased green traveling gown, her hair fallen entirely out of its knot. She looked as irritated as he felt, but he doubted her pique was from too much physical labor without enough physical loving. Most likely he'd done something else to rile her. Heaven knew it did not take much.

Before she could rail at him, West said, “I hired back two of the menservants after they swore allegiance to me. They are willing to work for a fair wage rather than have no position at all, because your father had no use for so many footmen. I did not have time to consult you.”

Penny was mortified at her father's actions and she'd spent hours trying to right his meddling. After the long journey all she wanted to do was settle into her new surroundings at leisure, and she thought West must feel the same, but neither had a moment's rest, thanks to Sir Gaspar's grandiose schemes. Now her husband was rubbing at the sore spot, reminding her that her father was manipulative and managing. He was still her father.

She stood toe-to-toe with West, ready to do battle. “I know. I sent one of them to Lady Bainbridge with a note. And I told Mrs. Parker to hire whatever maids she thought we required.” She added, in curt tones, “I did not have time to consult you, either.”

West heard no thank-you for trying to lighten the work for all of them, no joint discussion of household expenses. He supposed she must feel entitled to spend whatever of his money she could. Like her sire, she obviously thought money gave her the power to act with impunity. Well, he still had some authority in his own home.

“I instructed the men to remove the dead animals from my book room.”

She countered with, “I told Mr. Parker to dispose of that naked statue in the hall.”

“I ordered the maroon velvet bed hangings removed from my room.”

“I had the rickety escritoire taken away from mine.”

“That was my mother's writing desk.”

Penny was mortified all over again, but she could not back down. If she let this man call the tunes, she would be dancing to his music for the rest of her life. She was done letting any man dictate to her, not her father, not her husband. “Very well, I will tell the Parker boys to put it in your room.”

A dainty lady's desk, with its matching small-scale chair? He'd rather have the maroon draperies around his bed. West took a deep breath, trying to control his temper. “I told Parker we would dine out.”

“I told Mrs. Parker that we would take potluck here. Cook and she are already bosom bows, so they will manage.” She raised her chin. “And I invited Lady Bainbridge to share our meal.”

“Without asking me?”

“You accepted my father's invitation, without asking me.”

“What happened to a man's home being his castle?”

“What happened to friends, partners, companions? It seems to me your promises are as poor as your memory.”

He frowned. She frowned right back.

West knew he was being childish, but, hell, it was his house. If he did not stand tall now, he'd be stepped on, a laughingstock among the other henpecked husbands. “I shall take supper at my club. I have a great deal to catch up on with business associates and political allies.”

“Good. Lady Bainbridge and I have a great deal to discuss also.”

“Good.” He started to leave, then said, “I'll take Nicky. He does not feel welcome.”

“Your brother is a fool.”

Now, there was something West and Penny could agree on, if he was in the mood to be agreeable. He was not, being forced out of his house on his first night home, after laboring like a coal hauler half the day. “Nicky might have more hair than wit, but he is still my brother. I will thank you to treat him accordingly. I tolerate Mr. Littleton and Marcel for your sake.”

She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “What is wrong with them?”

“Ah, nothing, nothing at all. But nothing is wrong with Nicky, either, or nothing a few more years won't cure. He has been coddled his whole life, being so young and coming so late in my parents' marriage.”

“He dresses like a clown.”

“Yes, but that is better than when he wanted to file his teeth down to look like a coachman, or when he decided to be a tragic poet, and dressed in black from head to toe, spouting lamentations.”

“You put up with that?”

“I am not Nicky's keeper, only his brother. I do not rule his life.”

No, he ruled only Penny's. She left to cancel the lovely dinner she, the cook, and the housekeeper had planned with what supplies were on hand.

West took Nicky to his club. Grandpapa took a tray in his room. Penny and Lady Bainbridge dined in Penny's sitting room, which was comfortable, if one liked pink, fluffy furnishings. They would be gone before the end of the week . . . into West's sitting room if Penny had her way. The dastard had left her alone on her very first night in a new house, not even staying to meet the only friend she had in London.

Penny apologized for her husband's absence, but Lady Bainbridge brushed that away. Now they could have a more comfortable coze and catch up on the past eight years, the way letters never could. Mostly the older woman wanted to hear about Penny's marriage.

Penny wished to discuss marriage in general, not hers in particular. She waited until Matthew Parker—or was that Michael?—finished serving Cook's excellent meat pie, along with crusty rolls and claret. When he left, Penny blurted out, “Do ladies usually enjoy their husband's attentions?”

“Of course. What woman would not want to be complimented and cosseted?”

Penny shredded her roll. “I do not mean those kinds of attentions. I mean in the bedroom. Do ladies like it?”

Lady Bainbridge almost choked on a sip of wine. “Heavens, child, what a question. Don't you?” She held up a hand. “No, do not tell me. I can see from your blushes that you do.”

“But real ladies?”

Lady Bainbridge clucked her tongue. “You are a real lady, my dear, and a woman is a woman, no matter her social standing. Oh, I know some ladies protest that their husbands' appetites are burdensome.” She held up a fork ful of meat pie. “I do not mean for food, of course. But I think most women enjoy the intimacy of the bedroom. It is one of the joys of marriage, part of the cement that holds a couple together.” She took another sip of wine, as if needing it before continuing. “And I do believe that if a lady does not find pleasure with her husband, then he is no true gentleman. I cannot believe your viscount would fail in that regard, not with his reputation.”

Penny did not want to hear about West's renown as a lover. His past was already as constant as a bad tooth-ache. “So passion is not reserved for fast women?”

“Foolish girl, you still blush as easily as when you were eighteen. No, nothing is wrong with enjoying your spouse's ardor. In fact, it is a consummation to be devoutly desired.”

It was by Penny, despite her own wishes. Having once tasted West's lovemaking, she wanted another serving, the full meal this time.

Lady Bainbridge was not finished. “And an eager husband is far preferable to a disinterested one who saves his best efforts for his mistress.”

Could West be visiting a mistress, even tonight? He had been without a woman since their wedding, for all practical purposes. Who knew how strong a gentleman's appetites were? Penny lost hers altogether.

After discussing such personal matters, Penny felt she could ask her friend and mentor, “But what of you? If you found wedded life so enjoyable, why have you never remarried?”

“Oh, I was never interested in finding another husband. There could never be a man as fine as my Julius.”

“Then you could take a lover, if intimacy is such a pleasure.”

Lady Bainbridge fanned herself with her napkin. “Goodness, Penny, I hope you do not mean to ask such things in public or we will never get you accepted into the beau monde. I know other widows have their discreet liaisons. Some even have protectors to support them. But I do have my principles, you know. Not every woman can be comfortable with an affair. And lovemaking without love is not half as rewarding.”

Penny paused to think about that, and Lady Greenlea.

“I did think of remarrying for financial reasons,” Lady Bainbridge confessed. “Julius did not leave me well-off, as you know, and the cousin who inherited his estate has seven children of his own to support.”

“Which was a blessing for me, that my father could hire you to assist me at my presentation. And now I can have you to help again, thank goodness.”

The older woman smiled. “Well, I did not have much choice but to seek employment, especially since I chose to preserve my scruples and my self-respect. Few enough gentlemen wish to wed a widow of little fortune, even if I were willing. My Julius and I were not blessed with children, either, so a gentleman in need of an heir would not glance my way. Now it is too late, of course, considering my age. Gentlemen want younger wives, to warm their beds and look pretty on their arms.”

“Why, you are not that old. You are barely forty, I'd wager, and a handsome woman. You are elegant and intelligent, and know how to go on.”

“Thank you, my dear. Who knows? Perhaps this Season, helping you, I shall find a man as good as my husband was.” Lady Bainbridge laughed. “One who still has all his teeth, and still knows how to sport between the sheets.”

 

Nicky had wandered off to watch a game of hazard, but West stayed behind in the dining room of his club, sharing a bottle of port with his friend Michael Cottsworth. Some ten years older, Mr. Cottsworth had been West's commanding officer in the cavalry on the Peninsula before being invalided home. When West came into his title, sold his commission, and decided to try breeding and training horses, Cottsworth had been a big help in getting contracts with the army. He also helped West find his feet in London's social quicksand, where a green lad could sink without a guide. The two were good friends now, good enough that West could discuss his marriage. After all, Cottsworth was a widower. He ought to understand.

West studied his glass of port, then said, “Damn, this business is more complicated than I thought.”

“Your stud farm? I thought you were making a tidy profit now.”

“Not the horses. Being a husband.”

Cottsworth smiled and raised his own glass. “It's the best thing that can happen to a man. Simply begin as you mean to go on.”

“That's right, take the reins, just like breaking in a new horse. I intend to do that very thing. Tomorrow.”

The former officer laughed. “No, you'll get thrown for certain that way. I meant surrender now. Concede. Admit defeat and stop fighting the inevitable, for you can never understand a woman, so you can never win whatever war you think you are fighting. Hell, half the time you won't even know where the battle lines are. It is far easier to make peace in the beginning. You'll see how much more rich your life can be with a contented wife.” He extolled the married state, the comfort, the joys, the sharing and caring and warmth. And the sex.

West could imagine Penny sighing with pleasure, but he could not imagine it happening any time soon. As for the rest? Pigs would fly first. He poured another glass of port. “What about you? If marriage is such a fine institution, why have you not taken another wife?”

“I am no nob who needs an heir to his titles and estates, and I have no taste for courting.” Cottsworth tapped his right leg, which resounded with a hollow, wooden sound. “And I don't cut the same figure I did when I was young. I can't dance or stroll with a pretty female down some secluded path. Hell, if I got down on one knee to propose, I'd never get up. And it's not like I have a fortune to compensate. Besides, I had a good marriage, but I doubt I could find its equal.”

“So you don't miss all those advantages you kept nattering on about?”