The Unexpected Bride (10 page)

‘Gelert? What on earth do you mean?’

A demonstration was always most effective in Penelope’s experience. ‘You are sitting down, aren’t you?’

‘Well, yes.’ How the devil did she know?

‘At a desk. Is the desk between us?’

‘Yes.’

She walked straight towards him in absolute confidence with her hand on Gelert’s collar and stopped about eighteen inches from the desk. ‘The desk is about a foot and a half away, isn’t it?’

‘Good God! How did you do that? You even knew I was sitting!’

‘Your voice, of course. The height is wrong for you to be standing. And I heard you move some papers so I thought you must be at a desk. As for knowing where the desk was, Gelert stopped me.’

Peter stared at them in disbelief. ‘And he does that all the time?’

‘Yes. It makes it much easier if I don’t have to wait about for people or take them away from whatever they are doing. I prefer to be as independent as possible.’

Good heavens! Here he’d been thinking that he was tied to a girl who would need constant help and attention. He began to revise his ideas very quickly. This was no helpless child to be nursed over every obstacle.
She would probably give him a sharp set-down if he tried!

He wondered what to say, and then thought, When in doubt, be direct!

‘I find myself in an awkward situation, then, my dear. My instinct is to shepherd you around every chair, make sure you never take a step without an attendant, but something tells me you would not appreciate this!’

Penelope smiled. ‘Not at all, Peter. It would drive me quite demented! I like my privacy and I prefer to know that someone has sought my company for pleasure rather than a sense of duty or charity.’

‘I take your point, Penelope, but there may be times when you will need my assistance which may not occur to me. I would like to think that you will have no hesitation in asking for help.’

‘Thank you, Peter. I will remember that.’ There was still a certain reserve in her voice and Peter realised at once that she would probably find it difficult to ask him for help. He wondered how much of this was due to his own behaviour and how much to pride and—well, to put it bluntly, sheer cussedness!

Wisely he dropped the subject, resolving to leave it to time. ‘Shall we start our tour in the breakfast parlour, then, Penelope? Are you hungry?’

‘Yes, please, Peter.’

He moved to her side, wondering how the dog would react, but Gelert, sensing no alarm on the part of his mistress, merely looked at him indifferently. ‘Will you take my arm, Penelope?’ Wordlessly she held out her hand. He kissed it and tucked it through his arm to lead her out. Penelope wondered at the odd thrill that ran through her at the touch of his lips.

After breakfast Peter began their tour of the house. After careful thought he had decided to concentrate on making sure she could find her way about. The servants had been warned that nothing must be left lying about and nothing moved without warning their mistress.

He told her this as they entered the study. ‘Thank you, my lord—I mean, Peter. But they needn’t worry too much. Gelert would never let me fall over anything. He has been my eyes for the last four years. It would have been much harder without him. As it is I have been able to retain some independence of movement.’

Peter stopped in surprise. ‘You were not always blind, then?’

‘Oh, no. It was an accident. Geoffrey let off a gun near my horse one day. When I was thrown off my head hit a tree root. I was unconscious for days. When I did come to I had the most dreadful headache and couldn’t see. I can distinguish light from dark a bit, and I notice movement, but that’s about it.’

Peter said nothing but his mind was relieved of one worry. Repudiating the marriage was out of the question, but he had been concerned about the possibility of his wife passing on her affliction to a child. At least now he had only to consider the best way of wooing the girl so that he could start a family.

Despite his discretion on this subject, Penelope sensed his slight change of mood and was quick to realise the reason. ‘Peter, it was bad enough that we didn’t tell you about Phoebe, or that I was blind, but I would never have married anyone if there had been the slightest possibility of passing my blindness on to a child. Please, you must believe that.’

Peter stopped dead, staring at his wife, utterly amazed. ‘How the devil did you know what I was thinking?’ he demanded at last.

‘I…I don’t know, your voice or something. I can do it with Phoebe all the time, because we are so close. I always know when something is wrong and she always knows about me.’

Peter looked at his bride in consternation. ‘I shall have to behave myself if you are going to read my mind like that. Even my thoughts will have to mend their manners!’ Certainly some of his thoughts would have to be put firmly to the back of his mind for a while. Looking at Penelope, he realised just how hard it was going to be stopping himself from making love to her. The memory of the softness of her lips in church and putting her to bed the previous night was vivid. He had restrained himself nobly on that occasion, but hoped to God that the situation would not arise again.

Honesty compelled him to admit that the chances of him showing a similar level of self-discipline another time were about zero! The delicate curves of his wife’s body would have been a constant temptation under any circumstances, but to know that he had the right to take her and make love to her made his decision to wait doubly hard. Hoping devoutly that she couldn’t sense what he was thinking now, he concentrated on his description of the study. It was a very masculine room, furnished with comfortable leather chairs, a large desk and walls lined with books. All the Frobishers had enjoyed collecting books, and this library was justly famous for its collection of seventeenth century manuscripts of poetry.

Penelope, listening to her husband, was perfectly
aware that something was bothering him, but this was one subject on which she could not possibly understand his thoughts. With no experience of love it did not occur to her that she could be the object of his desire. She supposed that he would tell her when he wanted to consummate the marriage, which made her a little nervous. Would he just come to her room one night and get into bed with her? Of course, Phoebe had thought it was wonderful. But then Phoebe and Richard were in love; surely that made a difference. Still, even Mama had said she would probably enjoy that part of married life. Suddenly she realised that she had not heard a word Peter had said for several minutes and dragged her mind back to the study.

After the study came the State Dining Room followed by the Small Dining Room, which were both on the ground floor, after which they descended to the kitchens where Penelope was introduced to the French cook, François, and his minions. François excelled himself in his Gallic address, assuring his new mistress that he would be inspired by her presence to create new dishes for her delectation. Penelope responded delightfully, thought Peter, quite unaware that his feelings for his wife were not at all along the lines he had intended.

Finally they repaired to the Morning Room, where a light meal had been laid out. Over this Darleston told his wife a great deal about the history of the house and his family. The Earldom went back to the Restoration of King Charles II. The then Viscount Darleston had fought bravely for his King and had been duly rewarded upon his return from exile. The house itself had been built in the following century, after the Elizabethan manor house burned down.
Penelope could hear the passion in Peter’s voice as he told her all this. She could understand his pride in the title and his reluctance to permit it to go to one who would soil its lustre. Jack Frobisher, she thought, was the last man Darleston would wish to have to acknowledge as his heir!

In the afternoon Peter took her back over the part of the house he had shown her in the morning and was amazed to realise that she could find her way about without much difficulty. She laughed at his surprise, saying only that she had become very quick to remember things like that. ‘You are quite incredible, my dear,’ he insisted. ‘Why, George got lost between his bedroom and the dining room the first time he stayed here!’

‘You and George are very close, are you not?’

‘Yes, we fought together under Wellington in the Peninsula, and at Waterloo. Both of us came back here to recover after we were wounded at Waterloo. George’s parents are dead, his sister was close to her confinement and I had no desire to be alone at that point—’ He broke off, not wanting to mention his first wife’s disastrous flight with her lover when she’d heard of his return from war.

Penelope heard the bitterness in his voice so she changed the subject adroitly. ‘Did you admire Wellington very much? Papa used to read all the newspaper reports aloud to us for my sake. I always felt that Wellington sounded very aloof and unapproachable. Did that make it hard to serve under him?’

‘Not at all,’ answered Peter. ‘We knew he was out to get the job done and that he would do it. Also I assure you, my dear, that you will not find him in the least unapproachable when you meet him, as you are
bound to do!’ Peter knew quite well that his erstwhile commander would be fully appreciative of the charms of the new Lady Darleston.

They moved out into the garden together with Gelert. Peter was fascinated to see how the great dog guided his mistress, protecting her from any mishaps. He always stopped before steps, pushed her to the centre of any doorway and guided her safely around obstacles. ‘Did you train Gelert on purpose, Penelope?’

‘Not really. We hoped for a while that my sight would return, or at least improve, but it didn’t. Gelert was about a year old then. Papa gave him to Phoebe and me when he was a puppy and we shared him, but after the accident he spent more time with me and gradually began guiding me about. I couldn’t do without him now.’

Peter took her to the herb garden, where an almost tangible cloud of fragrance greeted them. He said, laughing, ‘I’ve no idea what they are all called, but I know which ones smell the loveliest.’ To his surprise Penelope could identify most of them by their scent or texture, and it was obvious that she took a great deal of pleasure in the garden.

Peter began to realise that his wife’s other senses appeared to be highly developed. If he stepped away she had no trouble locating him from the sound of his voice. He also began to have an inkling of the extent of her independence and pride. She did not cling to him nervously in the new environment she faced, but rather stepped out boldly into the unknown with a courage that left him wondering how he would acquit himself under a similar affliction.

‘Do you ever long for your sight?’ he asked abruptly
as they left the herb garden to wander through the shrubbery.

She hesitated before answering, ‘Yes. Very often, when I meet new people, but I try to avoid that because they annoy me by being pitying and patronising.’

‘Was that why you didn’t come out with Phoebe?’

‘Yes, meeting lots of people all at once is terribly confusing. I can’t see them and the headaches come back because I get scared of the crowd. My parents took me to a local Hunt Ball but it was awful. You see, I can’t dance any of the figured dances, only the waltz. None of the men wanted to dance with me, so Phoebe pretended to be me for half an hour and I had some of her waltzes!’

Peter roared with laughter. ‘So I wasn’t the first victim after all! Was that your idea, to dance for your sister?’

‘Goodness, no! Phoebe dared me to do it, but Mama was very cross with us and I didn’t really enjoy the ball, so I refused to go to any more. I suppose it was cowardly but it seemed much easier to stay at home.’

Peter thought he detected a note of sadness in her voice, but her face told him nothing. ‘Do you find it frustrating not knowing what I look like?’ he asked unexpectedly.

‘But I do know! Phoebe described you in great detail after our first meeting. Tall, about six foot two, with black hair, brown eyes and an olive complexion. You have a fine figure and are very handsome, according to her.’

Peter chuckled at the unmistakable mischief in Penelope’s voice. The chit was teasing him! Thank God his behaviour hadn’t frightened her off.

When they stopped to sit on a garden bench Penelope said shyly, ‘Perhaps when we are…are a little better acquainted, you would permit me to…to touch your face. You s…see that way I can
feel
what you look like.’

The request startled Peter. He had seen how she had touched a rose and explored its petals. The idea that those gentle, soft hands might touch him in the same way was very pleasant.

She was facing him with that odd listening look on her face, but his silence disconcerted her and she flushed, saying, ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.’

‘You have not offended me at all,’ he assured her, adding, ‘Would you like to do it now, while we are alone?’ His voice told her that he was perfectly sincere, so she lifted her hands to his face, gently tracing the strong line of his jaw and chin. The nose was finely modelled, his cheekbones high, his mouth warm and firm. His hair curled crisply and she liked its texture. In fact she liked what she found very much.

Peter sat utterly still as her hands moved over his face. It was very like a caress, and he found himself deeply aroused, although he was aware she had not intended it thus. Her face was turned up to his as she concentrated, her dark red hair curling around her brow, her lips slightly parted. Finally Peter could deny himself no longer. Very gently, so as not to scare her, he slipped one arm about her waist to draw her nearer. Those soft fingers quivered, were still, and her listening look intensified.

Not taking his eyes from her face he said huskily, ‘May I join in, Penny?’ The diminutive disarmed her and she nodded mutely, not trusting her voice.

He raised his free hand to her face and stroked her cheek lightly, enjoying its soft smoothness. The column of her white throat was equally soft. He could feel her trembling in his arms yet she did not try to draw away from his embrace. His fingers passed gently over her tender mouth and with a groan of pleasure he bent his head to cover her lips with his own. This time Penelope made no attempt to struggle, rather she melted against him, returning his kisses as best she could. From the moment he had put his arm about her waist she had known he would kiss her and had schooled herself not to draw back, but the sensations his mouth aroused took her completely by surprise. Her heart was pounding erratically, something seemed to have happened to her breath, and she was conscious of a spreading weakness in her body.