The Unexpected Bride (17 page)

He ran a distracted hand through his hair, trying desperately to concentrate on something other than the soft enticing curves of her figure. He raised his eyes to her face. The dark red curls were piled high on her head to fall in soft ringlets; they jostled for position, caressing her neck in careless abandon. One particularly vagrant lock tickled her cheek in a way that made Peter’s fingers itch to stroke it back.

He nearly groaned aloud in frustration and dropped his gaze to her hands which drew rippling magic from the instrument. He tried to focus on the music, but found himself remembering the occasions when she
had touched him. Good Lord, he was behaving like a lovesick schoolboy! With a massive effort of his will he turned away and wrenched his mind from contemplating Penelope.

He thought over what George had told him. Would Jack really try to murder him? Surely not! And yet the notion could not be dismissed. It occurred to him that it was even more a matter of urgency for him to consummate his marriage. The sound of George’s voice roused him from his thoughts. Penelope had finished playing and George was offering to read to her. He had the
Gazette
in his hand and Penelope was delighted.

Darleston began to feel annoyed. Dash it all, she didn’t have to be that friendly! And why was George so damned assiduous in his attentions? To be calling her Penny as though he had known her for ever! The contrast between the polite, reserved manner Penelope kept for him and the way she treated George was marked, and although he had encouraged her reserve he was piqued. By the time Penelope excused herself for the evening he was determined to visit her room for the express purpose of telling her plainly to behave herself!

George and Darleston remained chatting for a while, the former cheerful and unrestrained, his host a little gloomy. Finally George decided to put the cat among the pigeons. He was quick to observe and understand the demons which drove his best friend. The tension between the pair was not lost on him and he thought he could make a shrewd guess as to the cause of it.

‘Peter, you’re a lucky dog. If I organised a marriage for myself, as you did, it would be a total wash-out. She’d turn out to be a half-wit, or bad-tempered, or
worse. But you! You end up with the most charming, intelligent girl imaginable! Even has a nice dog! I take it all back. You couldn’t have chosen better if you’d known the girl for years. Nothing like Melissa either, thank God!’

Peter looked a bit startled at this panegyric. He didn’t answer for a moment, but finally said, ‘Yes, I suppose you’re right. It could have been a lot worse.’

George left it at that. Hopefully Peter would give it some thought. It was obvious to him that Peter was annoyed by the ease with which he had made friends with Penelope. With a bit of luck it might make him realise that the girl wasn’t a dangerous charmer, like Melissa, and that he could treat her as a friend, rather than a distant and not overly liked acquaintance, without disaster.

George excused himself early, saying the drive had tired him and that he would see Peter in the morning. Peter said, ‘I’m unfortunately obliged to see my bailiff in the morning. Do you mind entertaining yourself? We might take guns out in the afternoon.’

‘Of course I can entertain myself. Might even take Penny riding. She tells me you let her ride old Nero and that she’s back in action after the accident.’

For some reason the thought of Penelope riding with George enraged him. Why, when he had offered to take her out yesterday she had refused. No doubt she would accept George’s invitation with alacrity! Angrily he pushed away the knowledge that his own offer had been less than inviting. He was more than ever determined to suggest to his wife that she should be more reserved with George. With this in mind he changed himself for bed and then knocked firmly on the connecting door.

A brief silence followed his knock, and Peter wondered if his wife were already asleep. Then a startled voice bade him enter. Penelope was sitting up in bed brushing her hair. He walked over to the bed to stand looking down at her. She faced him nervously, uncertain of what he wanted. A pulse hammered in her throat and she realised to her annoyance that she was trembling.

‘Peter?’ Her voice was commendably steady, but her husband caught the hint of uncertainty.

‘May I speak with you, Penelope?’

‘Of course.’ Was that
all
he wanted, drat him?

Darleston didn’t mince words. ‘I’m pleased, of course, that you like George, Penelope, but it is scarcely necessary for you to be quite as friendly, or to be on Christian name terms with a man you have only just met! With any other man I would be very angry indeed. Please remember that I require discretion in my wife and would prefer her to maintain a ladylike reserve with other men.’

Penelope was stunned. ‘Are you seriously telling me that you expect me to be boring with everyone just because
you
happen to have a preference for it? Don’t be an idiot, Peter!’

It had not occurred to Peter that she would argue with him. Surprised, he snapped back, ‘If that is how you see it, yes! I’m not prepared to be cuckolded twice!’

Penelope’s jaw dropped in amazement. For a moment she was rendered utterly speechless at the implied insult, and then she lost her temper. Before she could stop herself she was out of bed, standing before him shaking with hurt and rage. The angry words spilled from her, ‘How
dare
you? Just because I am
pleased to see someone who treats me as a…a
friend,
rather than an unwelcome guest! You are suggesting that I would be unfaithful to you? If that’s what you think of me, I’m not surprised you go to such pains to avoid me. I hate you, Peter. Get out!’

It had not dawned upon Peter that his gentle bride had a temper, and he was startled to say the least. He had rather expected a continuation of her polite reserve. What he might have said in response would never be known. He found to his horror that the extremely diaphanous nightgown in which Ellen had arrayed her mistress did little, if anything, to conceal her charms. On the contrary, it displayed her slender figure to admiration. He stood staring at her, with desire rising in his blood, unable to think of anything save that he longed to tear the flimsy silk from her with a minimum of ceremony.

Furious that he was still there, and totally unaware that she might as well have been naked, Penelope repeated her command. ‘Get out, Peter, and leave me alone!’ She accompanied this with a stamp of her foot and pointed to the door. Peter, observing the lift of one delectable breast under the almost non-existent nightgown, forgot he was meant to be having a fight with his wife. He grasped her by the shoulders, pulled her against his body and kissed her fiercely.

The ringing slap he received across the face, coupled with the fact that his wife stood on his foot very hard indeed, brought Peter to the realisation that he had chosen an inauspicious moment to kiss her. He released her at once and stepped back, saying angrily, ‘I beg your pardon, ma’am. I will relieve you of my presence! Goodnight!’

He left the room immediately, slamming the door
behind him. Penelope got back into bed slowly, buried her face in the pillow and cried herself to sleep. Darleston, standing silently cursing himself on the other side of the door, heard the muffled sobs but was too mortified to go back and apologise. The memory of the hurt on her face lashed at his conscience. Blast the girl!

T
he following morning Peter was not surprised to be informed by Meadows that the mistress was breakfasting in bed, having passed an indifferent night. He merely nodded and returned to his perusal of the morning papers.

George looked up and said, ‘Meadows, please ask her ladyship if she would care to go riding with me this morning. Or driving if she prefers.’ Turning to Peter, he said, ‘Driving might be better, do you think?’

‘Probably,’ was the unconcerned reply.

George took the hint and concentrated on his breakfast. As he ate he wondered how long it would take Peter to relax and at least trust his wife. He was quite aware that Peter was annoyed at the ease with which he and Penelope had struck up a friendship. ‘Damned fool that he is!’ muttered George under his breath.

‘I beg your pardon?’ said Peter.

‘Oh! Er…just talking to myself!’ George excused himself hurriedly, startled to realise that he had spoken aloud.

Peter nodded and left it at that, but he had very little doubt of the identity of the ‘damned fool’! He was
beginning to agree with George. What on earth was wrong with him? Surely he could manage to be consistently kind to the chit and not keep losing his temper? It wasn’t as though she was annoying in any way. She was attractive, even beautiful, she was gentle, but with plenty of spirit. He grinned reluctantly as he recalled how she had turned on him last night.

He was physically attracted to her, no doubt of that! It would be very easy to be extremely fond of her. And that, he admitted to himself as he sipped his coffee, was just the problem. He didn’t want to care at all. If he didn’t care, then he couldn’t be hurt by her. But she can be hurt, his conscience nagged. Why should Penny be hurt because of Melissa’s sins?

His mood had lightened considerably by the time he had finished his breakfast. He was still confused, but his innate sense of justice was forcing him to the realisation that he would have to do something permanent about his behaviour. It wasn’t in anyone’s interest for him to continue blowing hot and cold on Penelope’s feelings. He would only succeed in driving her into estrangement, if indeed he had not done so already.

Meadows came into the room just as they were finishing. ‘Her ladyship is at your disposal whenever you would care to go, Master George. She would prefer to drive with you, if you have no objection,’ he said.

‘Thank you, Meadows. Please send a message to the stables for my chestnuts to be harnessed and tell her ladyship that I will be ready as soon as the horses are. Sure you can’t come, Peter?’

‘Quite sure,’ said Peter with genuine regret. ‘But why don’t you try the paces of my new greys? They
need exercise and your own team could probably do with a rest after your journey.’

George correctly deduced from this that Peter was trying to apologise for his earlier bad temper, and he suppressed a grin with some difficulty. ‘With pleasure, dear boy. I’ll try not to lame ’em for you. The greys, then, Meadows.’

‘Very good, Master George, but don’t tire her ladyship! She has been extremely unwell!’ With that Meadows departed on his errands.

Peter stared after him in some bewilderment. ‘Good Lord! Next thing you know Meadows will be calling her “Miss Penny”, just as if he had known her from childhood! How amazing!’

‘Not at all!’ said George, amused by Peter’s surprise. ‘Very lovable girl, Penny. Reminds me of my sister!’

Half an hour later George and Penelope were bowling along behind Peter’s prized Welsh greys with Gelert running beside them. Penelope was rather quiet at first, and George noted the faint circles under her eyes. She cheered up a bit when George told her that Peter had offered to lend them his greys. Surely if he would lend his beloved greys he wasn’t too angry with her, she thought.

‘Where shall we go, Penny? Your choice.’

‘Oh, could we visit the Jewkes farm? Martha’s baby will arrive soon and I should like to visit her. I have a note from Ellen for her, and some clothes for the baby. Do you know the farm?’

‘We’ll find it. I’ve been there once with Peter.’

A child gave them directions to the farm, and as they drove along George wondered if he should try to explain something of Peter’s confusion to Penny. Peter
would be furious if he knew, but the sight of Penelope’s troubled face decided him. ‘Penny?’

‘Yes, George.’

‘Hope you won’t be offended, but could I talk to you about Peter?’

‘About Peter?’ echoed Penelope.

‘Mmm. Odd fellow, Peter. Seems very moody at the moment. Thought it might be easier for you to handle him if you knew more about him. Generally he’s the kindest chap alive, but after we got back from the War he changed.’

‘Melissa?’

‘That’s it. You see, he married her for love, despite the fact that everyone else knew she married him for his money. When she ran off with Barton and got killed it was pretty hard on Peter. Of course he knew before he rejoined what she was like. She wasn’t very discreet. Probably volunteered hoping he’d be killed. But the fact that she dragged his name in the mud, well, he just can’t seem to forget about it. Don’t know if you knew any of this.’

‘Peter told me a little,’ said Penelope. ‘But he is so withdrawn most of the time, and then sometimes he is quite friendly. I find it very hard to understand his moods and…and I don’t think he likes me very much.’

George’s heart ached at the sadness in her voice as she said this. ‘Thing is,’ he continued, ‘Peter finds it almost impossible to trust a woman now.’ He refrained from mentioning Lady Caroline Daventry and her connection with Peter. ‘But if you can just bear with him until he comes to his senses…don’t let him upset you too much…’ he left the sentence unfinished and they drove on in silence for a while.

Finally he said with difficulty, ‘When Peter said he
was getting married again I thought he’d gone mad, the way he went about it. Think now that he couldn’t have chosen better. Told him so last night. Must be plain as a pikestaff, even to him, that you’re not like Melissa. Probably he’ll be a bit easier to live with soon. He’s the very devil when he’s moody!’

Penelope thought over his words of advice as the greys cantered along in the autumn sunshine. Would Peter become more predictable? George was his best friend, so presumably he understood him. She did not want to be estranged from Peter. Surely they could be friends, even if they weren’t in love!

And that, she realised, was her problem. Despite all her efforts to remain aloof, Peter’s charm and kindness, when he was not being disagreeable, had got past her guard. She had, almost without knowing it, fallen in love with her husband! A husband, she told herself, who only wanted her to provide an heir, who didn’t really care twopence for her. More than anything in the world she wanted to prove to him that she was worthy of his trust and respect, even if he never loved her.

She groaned inwardly at the mess she was in. Well, she thought, it’s too late to back out now!

Their arrival at the farm interrupted her thoughts. As George swung the curricle into the farmyard she realised that she had ignored him for at least a mile.

‘I beg your pardon, George, I didn’t mean to be so dreadfully rude. I was thinking over what you said about Peter. I’ll keep trying. I know he can be kind…he was so good about finding out that I am blind and that it was really my sister he thought he was marrying—’ She broke off in horror. ‘Oh, dear, I shouldn’t have said that!’

George laughed. ‘Peter told me in his letter what had happened. Serves him right. But from what he said to me on the way to the church it was actually you that he meant to marry!’

Penelope was startled. ‘He said that, but I thought he was just being polite!’

‘No, one of the things he liked about you was Gelert!’

Penelope giggled. ‘Did he tell you how he chose a maid for me? He had Meadows line up all the housemaids to ask them if they liked dogs. Then he showed them Gelert and they picked the only one who was left!’

George chuckled and said, ‘One of the things that gives me hope about Peter is that he has never completely lost his sense of humour. He’ll be all right! Also, Meadows likes you. He couldn’t stand Melissa! Peter takes a lot of notice of Meadows because the old boy looked after him as a child. Meadows was quite insistent that I mustn’t tire you out this morning. Made Peter think a bit!’

‘Meadows has been very kind to me,’ said Penelope. ‘And I notice that he nearly always calls you “Master George” and quite often calls Peter “Master Peter.” He’s like our old butler. I’m sure Tinson will never call me Lady Darleston!’

‘Probably not. In fact I wouldn’t be surprised if Meadows forgets himself one day and calls you ’Miss Penny”! He nearly did this morning,’ said George with a grin, ‘Gave Peter something to think about. Meadows was so correct with Melissa that it was embarrassing!’

A cheerful hail from the farmhouse put a stop to their conversation. Jewkes had heard them and come
out to see who was there. He was brimming over with excitement, and as he rushed towards them his words became distinguishable ‘…on’y sent a lad ten minutes ago! Took ye at yer word, my lady. It’s a boy, and he come so fast I barely ’ad the midwife ’ere in time. Ellen will be real disappointed, but we was all caught short as ye might say!’

‘Jewkes, is the baby here already?’ gasped Penelope. ‘Oh, how dreadful! I promised to send Ellen! Poor Martha! George, we must go home at once to tell Ellen. One of the grooms will bring her over immediately, Jewkes. I’m terribly sorry!’

Jewkes roared with laughter. ‘Why, there’s no call to feel bad, my lady. We didn’t expect the little lad for another week. An’ it’s right kind of ye to send Ellen at all. I’ll tell Martha. She’s asleep now. Tired her out it ’as, for all it ’appened so quick. Ye’ll forgive me if I get back to ’er?’

‘Why of course you must, Jewkes!’ said Penelope warmly. ‘Here, I’ve a letter from Ellen and some clothes for Baby. We’ll go back now and send Ellen over. Goodbye—and congratulations!’

George turned the curricle out of the yard and said, ‘Home, then, Penny?’

‘Yes, please, George. I must send Ellen to her sister as quickly as possible. She was so anxious about Martha, and excited about being an aunt!’ said Penelope. ‘You do not mind, George?’

‘Of course not! We can go out again, if you like, once you have given the message,’ said George obligingly. ‘Pity to spend a day like this inside if you don’t have to!’

‘We could ask the lodgekeeper to send the message
up to the house!’ suggested Penelope. ‘That way we won’t waste any time or get caught up.’

‘Good idea! There’s a very nice drive around the edge of the park, which should exercise the greys nicely and get us back in time for a late nuncheon!’

The greys quickly covered the distance back to the lodge and the message was delivered. The ten-year-old son of the lodgekeeper was only to happy to earn a penny by going up to the Court.

That done, George set the greys in motion again. They were eager to be off, yet they responded willingly to his light touch on the reins. He steadied them as he said cheerfully, ‘Peter stole a march on me over this team. He used to own the prettiest team of chestnuts, knew I admired them and offered to sell them to me. Next thing we know Camley sells up and Peter’s got his greys! Don’t know how he hears the news so fast. He offered to let me call him out, but he’s too good with a pistol for me! And he’s not bad with a sword either.’

Penelope laughed. ‘I can just see you calling him out because he sold you a pair of horses that you coveted. He’d have simply said that he thought you wanted the chestnuts so he gave you first refusal, since he didn’t need them any more!’

‘You know him uncommonly well, Penny,’ said George in amusement. ‘That’s exactly what he did say!’ They lapsed into a companionable silence. George Carstares thought that for all her liveliness Penelope didn’t seem to feel the need for constant conversation. He knew she needed time to think over what he had said earlier. It sounded as though Peter was very confused about his marriage. He suspected that
Peter was fonder of the girl than he was willing to let on.

Penelope enjoyed the swift rhythm of the hooves on the road and the swing of the curricle. Before her accident she had been taught to drive by her father. The easy motion of the carriage and the steady pace of the team told her that George was a good driver. She found herself wishing bitterly that she did not have to sit passively, but could take the reins.

Generally she did not waste time sighing over what could never be, but several times just recently she had caught herself in the middle of what felt suspiciously like a wallow of self-pity. Stop it! she told herself with a mental shake. Then she realised that it would be far better to work out the reason for her mood and face it.

That was how she had reconciled herself to the loss of her sight. She had faced her fury with Geoffrey and conquered it with the help of her father. He had made her see that bitterness would harm only herself. He had forced her to be as independent as possible, refusing to pity her. Above all he had understood the pride which made pity a totally unacceptable reaction to her affliction.

So why, after all these years, should self-pity creep in? Frustration, yes. She often felt frustrated, but she had discovered long ago that it was better to consider a problem dispassionately to see if there was a solution. If not, then it was best to move on to something else.

Peter. She wanted to see Peter. She wanted to know what he looked like, this man she had married and so foolishly fallen in love with. That he was handsome, she knew. Phoebe’s description had told her that. At
first she hadn’t minded, hadn’t even thought about it. Now it was suddenly important. She felt at a complete emotional disadvantage not being able to see him. Well, bad luck, she thought, there is no solution.

Having made her way through the tangled skein of thought, Penelope set herself to thinking about how to win Peter’s trust and liking. Slapping him in the face and stamping on his foot was probably not a good start! She considered apologising for her loss of temper but rejected the notion. It wouldn’t harm him to realise just how angry and hurt she had been. Besides which she was
not
going to emulate ‘Patient Griselda’!