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June 19, 1815
Mayburn House
Manchester Square
Mayfair, England
Penny hid a yawn behind her hand as she finished the remainder of her breakfast. Though the ball she’d attended had been two days ago, she hadn’t adjusted yet to Town hours versus country hours.
Why do people stay awake until the wee hours of the morning here?
Aside from being passed over for dancing sets by the bulk of the men in attendance, the evening had been successful for the simple fact that she managed to hook Adam’s interest in her. To be fair, it had been easier than she’d anticipated, for being back in his company had felt all too natural, she’d had a difficult time separating her feelings of wanting revenge from the odd security and attraction demanding her attention.
What had snagged her notice had been his assisting the lower classes, and unless she missed her guess, he probably did more than he’d even told her that night. It had both humbled her and worried her, for how could a man who had such a heart for compassion have done such terrible things to her family?
Had he made huge changes in life since then, or was this truly what he was like? And if the latter was the case, what did that mean for the scandals that had caused her family to retreat from London?
Honestly, she didn’t want to expend the energy to try and puzzle it out, for in doing so, that might put a kink in her plans.
“I’m surprised to see you out of bed before noon,” Charles said as he came into the morning room with a nod to the footman who had come to London with them.
“I suppose I’ve been in Derbyshire for too long and consider the day wasted if it is spent in bed.” Of course, there was a different kind of nothingness taking up hours here in Town than there was in the country. “At least I have knitting to pass the time.” The friends and acquaintances she used to know the last time she’d been in London hadn’t responded to her letters, but then, everyone was busy and had their own lives. They’d probably gotten married and were starting families by now.
“A vulgar hobby to be sure.” As soon as her brother took a chair at the round table that could seat four people, the footman brought him a porcelain cup as well as a silver pot containing coffee. The fragrant brew permeated the air to blend with the other fragrances of fluffy, golden eggs and meaty hamsteak.
“But one that is useful and serves a purpose.” In fact, she couldn’t wait to return to her current project. The variegated colors of blues and greens in the wool were so pretty swirled together. She dabbed the corners of her lips with her linen napkin. “In any event, what do you have planned tonight? Or can I hope to have some time alone?” Though she did look forward to perhaps receiving Adam if he called, the pace and the bustle of London were taking a toll. Already, she could feel the edges of anxiety pressing in on her.
“We are staying at home this evening. In fact, we are hosting dinner for a handful of people, and you, my dear, will have the chance to play hostess at your first party.”
“What?” She stared at her sibling as knots of worry pulled in her belly. “I don’t want to host a dinner party.” The thought of doing such accelerated her heartbeat and worry poured into her chest.
“Enough of your hysterics, Penny. They are not attractive.” A hard note had entered Charles’ voice.
“As if I can control it. You know it’s always been like this with me when I feel the world around me is out of control.”
“An excuse, nothing more, and I won’t give you a pass any longer because of it.” He shook his head. “If we are to see you matched, you must meet available men, so I have invited a couple of them tonight. One is bringing his sister and the other, his mother.”
“Ah.” Which meant that gentleman was inordinately fond of his parent, and she, no doubt, kept him on a short lead. Heat jumped into her face. “I, uh...” She used a hand to fan her cheeks. “Is that strictly necessary, putting me in front of all those eyes with everyone looking to me to guide the conversation?”
“Of course it is.” As soon as a loaded plate of breakfast foods was placed in front of him, he took up his fork and started eating. “No matter who you marry, you will need to play hostess sooner or later. This is a perfect time to practice.”
“But, I—”
“Stop.” He held up a hand. “You have been coddled and pampered the whole of your life.” As he stared at her, his green eyes were as hard as sea glass. She’d always envied him and Sarah that eye color, for they’d gained it from their mother. “Everyone has tiptoed around your penchant for not being able to tackle difficult things; people have treated you differently because of your hysteria but now you need to start acting differently. Men are not going to want a woman damaged in her mental stories.”
Penny’s lower jaw dropped at his audacity. “I never asked any of you to do that.”
He shrugged. “Perhaps, but we did anyway, at Papa’s request.”
“Why?” And more to the point, why hadn’t she been informed of this before?
“It doesn’t matter now. The goal here is to see you matched and possibly engaged before the Season ends.” Another forkful of food was shoveled into his mouth.
The sensation of never quite fitting in assailed her. That same feeling showed itself a few times each year, as if there was something not quite right with everything around her but she couldn’t be certain how. “Ah, now it makes sense. The sooner you can match me, the sooner I’ll be off your hands and out of your responsibility.” A thread of anger twisted around the growing unease.
“That was the plan when you decided to come down to London, wasn’t it?”
“Well, yes, but there is also...” Her words trailed off lest she give away too much.
“Your bloody quest for revenge on Lord Maplecrest,” he finished for her while shaking his head. “I saw you talking with him the night of the ball, had no idea he was back in Town.” Annoyance echoed in his voice. “I’m warning you now. Stay away from him. Our family doesn’t need any more rumors surrounding it, and if you keep digging, every small chance you have of being married will evaporate.”
While that was the truth, the harsh way in which it was delivered only exacerbated the instability of her mind. I have fought too hard to keep this hidden for it to come roaring out now. As her breathing shallowed, Penny pushed her chair back and stood. “Thank you for your concern, but you needn’t worry about me or how I perform tonight.”
It was unfortunate that she wasn’t at home at her father’s estate, for when the feelings became overwhelming, there was a specific place she went to until calm returned. This townhouse was unfamiliar, and since it was relatively modest in size—her brother couldn’t afford a larger one to rent—the amount of hiding places was slim. With tears welling in her eyes and her breathing labored to the point that she might faint, Penny ran blindly through the corridors.
By some miracle, she made her way belowstairs, and after asking in halting speech where the cellar was, one of the maids directed her to the door. Shortly afterward, she pelted down a short flight of narrow, wooden stairs into the cellar. This was where root vegetables and other foods and ingredients were stored, as well as coal and refuse from the house in general. Two smaller doors at the far end of the room opened to the street for the coal man and rubbish collector, but she sought out the relatively cool corner where wooden barrels containing apples and potatoes rested.
Once she settled on a barrel, she bent her knees and pulled her legs tight to her chest, wrapping her arms about them, and she closed her eyes to concentrate on her breathing.
Just as Adam had cautioned her the other night at the ball. Not only did he refer to her with her full Christian name, he also was the one person who didn’t think her mad because of her penchant for hysteria or restlessness that sometimes carried her away. How he knew exactly what to say or do in order to soothe her, she had no idea, but perhaps it was time she asked a few questions of him that had nothing to do with perpetuating her quest for revenge.
One thing was certain: her path wasn’t done crossing the viscount’s, regardless of what her brother wanted.
Later that afternoon
Mayburn House
Manchester Square
Mayfair, England
Adam had been shown into a small parlor on the ground floor at least a quarter of an hour ago. It was a cheerful enough place, decorated in shades of mauve and pink, with absolutely no trace of personality and it didn’t feel as if it had been lived in, which was a shame.
Two nights ago, Penelope had come into his life again which was suspicious enough, and he’d been stupid enough to fall beneath her spell—also again—but she’d seemed conflicted, and that tiny crack in her flirtatious façade gave him pause.
What did Penelope Watterson really want from him?
The clearing of a throat at the door interrupted his musings. When he glanced up from his position on a low sofa, he frowned at the butler, the same man who’d shown him into the room. His gray hair was disheveled, as if he’d shoved his fingers through it.
“My apologies, Lord Maplecrest, but I am unable to locate Miss Watterson.”
What was this? Slowly, Adam stood. “Is she at home?”
“I assumed that she was. When Baron Endress left earlier this afternoon for appointments, he said that both he and his sister would host dinner tonight and that she had nothing on her schedule that would take her away from the townhouse.”
“Then she is still within.” He snatched up this top hat where he’d rested it. “She hasn’t gone out to the gardens or went to walk within the square?”
“Not that I am aware of.”
He nodded. “Had she been agitated today?”
“I wouldn’t know. I hadn’t seen her since breakfast, but whatever the conversation was at the table must have upset her.”
“Why?” At the ball, she’d nearly had an attack of angst or stress, but she was able to breathe through it. What if it had returned?
The butler shifted his gaze away from Adam’s. “According to the footman in attendance, they had discussed the dinner party tonight. When Miss Watterson protested, her brother had a few harsh words, mostly to disregard her alleged illness.”
Damn.
“Where did she go after she left the morning room?” He assumed that was where they’d taken the morning meal, for that was where he broke his fasts at his own home.
“I couldn’t say, my lord, but one of kitchen maids said Miss Waterson asked about the cellar.”
“I see.” Resisting the urge to dress the man down for the inability to puzzle things out, Adam moved to the door. “I shall see if I can’t locate her before seeing myself out.”
Relief crossed the older man’s face. “I would appreciate that, Lord Maplecrest.”
I’ll wager you would.
Without another word, he made his way through the corridors. A few minutes later, he entered the cellar and closed the door behind him. “Penelope? Are you in here?” Speckled sunlight faintly illuminated the space from a window partially sunk beneath the ground. “The butler hinted that you’d been down here for a few hours, and that led me to worry.”
“Adam?” The inquiry was faint, but at least she answered.
He found her at the rear of the cellar, perched on a sack of flour with her feet propped up on a small barrel of pickles. A pile of knitting rested in her lap while the wooden needles in her hands kept up a steady clack clack as her fingers manipulated them. A ball of blue-green wool danced and twitched on the floor.
“What are you doing down here?”
“Trying to stave off the creeping anxiety.” She shrugged. “It was the coziest place I could find.” With a sigh, Penelope laid her needles down and lifted her gaze to his. “I was, ah, annoyed with my brother. He sprang the news on me that I’d be hosting a dinner party with him tonight. I didn’t have the time to prepare, and beyond that, two of the gentlemen he’s invited are eligible bachelors.”
So that was the crux of her discontent. “No doubt he wishes to foist you off on someone else so he can go about his own business.” When he sat beside her on a matching sack of flour, he sighed and rested his top hat on a barrel of apples. “I’m sorry you were forced to flee down here.”
“I’m sorry I must suffer through this affliction.” Once she’d retrieved the ball of wool from the ground, she stabbed her needles through it. “I wish it had stayed in my past, for it hasn’t flared with such acuteness for some time, but I suppose I’m not that fortunate.”
“Just because you have this doesn’t mean it defines who you are.” Protection for her welled. “It is something you have. There is no rhyme or reason, and it doesn’t make you a less desirable woman. It just is.”
“My brother says it’s an excuse on my part, a ploy, if you will, for sympathy.” A huff escaped her. “He said they have all tiptoed around it for far too long and that he won’t have it any longer.”
Heated anger built in his chest on her behalf. “Try not to let him get under your skin. Some people don’t have compassion, can’t fathom others’ pain or struggle.” Daring much, he laid a hand atop one of hers. “I well remember that you fought with this years ago. Has it grown worse since then?”
“Sometimes. It doesn’t help that I hold many emotions insides.”
“Well, if you wish to rail at me right now, go ahead. It’s unlikely anyone will hear you down here but do it soon. Now doubt the cook and maids will be down before long to retrieve ingredients for dinner.” He softened the suggestion with a grin. “They might not be happy to see that we’ve been using their flour as a settee.”
When she giggled, the unexpected light sound went straight to his heart. “I fear I am too much of a mess to receive your call today.”
“Think nothing of it. A mess to one man is often hidden treasure to another. There are other days for a social call.” For long moments, they sat in silence. “As I came in, I was impressed with the gardens of the square. I would imagine there are plenty of paths to stroll if you were of a mind.”
“Perhaps some other time.” Her smile, which had been wobbly to begin with, faltered. Sadness shadowed her eyes. “I’m not feeling up to going outside just now.”
“I understand.” With the pat of her hand, Adam stood. “Then I shall take my leave.”
“Oh.” So much disappointment hung on that one word, it gave him pause, and his chest tightened. She struggled to her feet. The ivory dress stamped with stripes of green ivy leaves was most becoming. “I...” The knitting tumbled to the ground, apparently forgotten. “Well, thank you all the same for calling. You have no idea how much I—”
Then, because he’d gone temporarily insane or perhaps he found her all to captivating this mix of hope and despair, longing and confidence, he snaked a gloved hand about her nape, rested the other at her hip, tugged her against him, and fit his lips to hers.
And they were as lush and soft as he remembered. Pulling slightly back from her, he held her gaze, and when Penelope stared at him, gave him a slight nod, he moved his hands to frame her face. This time, when he claimed her lips, he gave the gesture some stick and set out to kiss her properly. Over and over, he moved along her mouth, seeking, asking, exploring, and when she accepted him with a soft, shuddering sigh, he continued to kiss her.
In this moment, it didn’t matter if she hated him, labored under the erroneous assumption that he was the crux of all her problems. It didn’t matter if he wanted nothing to do with the Watterson family and their lies. There was only her and him, and this kiss he’d dreamed about for the past three years. Interest shivered along his shaft; tiny fires lit throughout his blood. In that one meeting of mouths, he told her what he was too cowardly to convey with words, tried to offer comfort for what was coming because she would eventually need to be informed of her family’s betrayal.
But not yet. Not when moving his lips against hers, feeling the warmth of her body seep into his, tasting the faint saltiness of her tears on his tongue as he probed the seam of her mouth. In this moment, they exchanged apologies and explanations, they offered support and encouragement to each other.
And then it was over, and he pulled away, retreating a few steps in shock, putting much needed space between them before things grew out of hand. Shock roiled through his chest as he stared at her. The same emotion reflected in the dark pools of her eyes as she peered back with a hand pressed to her chest.
“Uh, I can stay here and keep you company if you’d like,” he whispered by of way explanation as he retrieved his top hat.
“I think it better that you leave,” she answered in an equally soft whisper as she let the fingertips of one hand drift to her lips. “Perhaps you can call tomorrow?” There was such wistfulness in that inquiry that it broke through all his defenses.
“Of course I will. Until then.” With a nod, he fled the cellar, but there was an odd lightness bouncing through his chest that he refused to acknowledge.
