How to Wed an Earl (12 page)

“You care more about what Ravenstone will do to you than the damage he will do to an innocent young woman’s life?” David’s voice was so low that Hugh had to strain to hear him. “You didn’t cast Penelope and Aunt Eleanor out to protect them, did you? You wanted to hide Penelope to protect your inheritance.”

“This is the way of the world, son. One day, all of this will be yours. It is your duty to protect it.”

David stood. “It is my duty to protect my kin, as it is yours, being the head of the family. It is high time I do so. I am going to visit her.”

Hugh stood as well. “You stay away from her, son! You have to protect your inheritance! Don’t you dare leave!”

David walked out of the study without a backward glance.

Hugh reined in his temper and went to the small table where the brandy decanter was laid and poured a glass.

Ravenstone was here. If Hugh didn’t do something, it was only a matter of time before everything he’d worked for was taken away from him. Though Hugh had not been lucky enough to be the firstborn, he had always been the one to make sure the Maitland fortune was secure. He cursed his brother’s soul to perdition for this new complication in his life.

All Hugh had ever wanted was to reestablish the Maitland name. He’d convinced Edmund to back out of the betrothal contract, which would have linked the family name to a tainted and impoverished line. Edmund never did think before acting. He did not deserve the barony.

It was Hugh who had always deserved the title. He’d been responsible for making sure his reckless brother did not squander away the family fortune. He’d worked hard to make sure his son had no taint of a scandal and had only the best education. He’d sent David to London to find the best of brides and to let the past finally rest.

His arthritic fingers trembled as they held onto the brandy glass. Ravenstone would not take away what he’d worked so hard for all his life. It was too bad the problems Edmund had brought to the family did not die with him, but Hugh was not afraid of Ravenstone.

He sipped his brandy as he thought of his next move.

• • •

“Are you sure this is going to work?”

Penelope sighed. “For the eleventh time, Colin, all I can say is that it
has
to work.” She eyed the jam tartlets laid out on the low table in the library. “I wouldn’t normally engage in such extreme practices, but this isn’t a normal situation. Can you check with Gertie whether Mr. Henson has arrived yet?”

“I am sure Gertie will announce Mr. Henson’s arrival.” He looked anxiously from his seat beside her on the settee toward the door. “We should have thought of this before, really. If this works, then we wouldn’t need Ravenstone anymore.”

“We never needed Ravenstone to get us out of this mess.” Penelope sighed again. “Don’t tell him that, though. He likes to think he came here to save us.”

Colin’s gaze shifted to her. “You like him, don’t you?”

God help her, she did. Who could not like a man with Lucas’s integrity and sense of duty? He was helpfully advising Papa to get out of the financial hole he’d been living in for the past couple of years. With Lucas’s advice on investments, Colin might yet have an inheritance. Her fiancé was what the nobility should be and almost never were: honorable, steady and dependable.

Any other man wouldn’t have bothered to honor a betrothal contract in which both signatories were already dead, but here he was. Whatever else happened between them after this debacle, she had to remember to thank him for all the help he’d given to a family who, mere days ago, were complete strangers to him.

How lucky she was to have known someone like Lucas in her life. If only he wasn’t here just to fulfill his duty. “Yes,” she said, “he is a good man.”

“So when are you marrying him?”

She was saved from having to form a reply when Gertie opened the door with a foreboding expression. “Mr. Henson is here to see you, Miss Penelope.”

“Thank you, Gertie, please show him in.” She turned to her brother. “You better leave. I shall tell you how it went later.”

“I’ll be right outside,” he reminded her before walking out of the library.

Mr. Henson entered a few minutes after Colin left, his face as grim as the gray coat and trousers that hugged his thin form. He sat down without bothering to greet her and immediately scoffed down a jam tartlet.

“I trust,” he said, while munching on the confection, “that you have come up with the money?”

She watched him swallow and waited until he’d grabbed another from the tray in front of him before speaking. “No, sir, but I have asked you to call on us hoping we can agree on some sort of bargain.”

Mr. Henson emitted a sharp crack of laughter. “There’s no chance of that, my dear. Unless you have reconsidered making your sister’s services available to me, we have nothing to talk about.”

“I will never let Sarah near a monster like you.”

Mr. Henson paused in the act of grabbing yet another tartlet. “Such spirit. I must say, Miss Maitland, I have never before considered your charms to be palatable. I prefer my partners to be young, but your courage and determination is something I would like to breed into my future children. I am hopeful your sister has inherited those same traits.”

He made a move to come closer to her, and Penelope held out a hand to stop him in his tracks. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Mr. Henson.”

“Why not? You want to save this house, don’t you?” He licked his lips and walked slowly toward the settee where she was seated.

She looked at him steadily. “How are you feeling, Mr. Henson? Did you like those jam tartlets?”

Mr. Henson looked confused. “What do you mean, how am I feeling?” He glanced at the tray, and then back at her as an expression of horrified comprehension took over his gaunt features. “You murderous wench! You poisoned me, didn’t you?” He sank on the chair and started breathing heavily.

She stood up and towered over him. “Some of the medicines my family makes can be poisonous if administered in large doses. I have the antidote to the poison you just ingested. But you have to take it within ten minutes or it will be too late.” She held up a vial in one hand and a contract in the other. “Are you willing to bargain with me now, Mr. Henson?”

“You will pay for this,” he choked out.

“Perhaps,” she allowed. “But you will sign this contract if you want to live long enough to ensure that I pay for my actions. I will not give you the antidote otherwise. Besides, you’ll find the terms are fair for everyone concerned. We pay you back in monthly installments and you get your money back within two years.” She shook the antidote. “This is in your best interest, Mr. Henson. I suggest you act on it.”

Penelope shoved the contract in front of him and he hastily signed it. Once she was certain everything was in good order, she walked to her stepfather’s desk and shoved the contract in the drawer. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

“The antidote,” Mr. Henson rasped. “You said you would give me the antidote.”

She turned back to him. “What, this?” She held up the vial again. “This is just lemonade. I did not poison you. You may leave now.”

“You bitch!” he roared as he angrily strode to her.

“Take one more step toward my fiancée, and I will make sure you regret it.” The chill in Lucas’s voice from the doorway stopped Mr. Henson in his tracks. She watched Lucas walk into the library with deceptive calm. “Penelope might not have the stomach to hurt anyone, but I will have no trouble beating you to a bloody pulp if you dare to treat my future countess with such disrespect again.”

The blood drained from the creditor’s face as he looked up at Lucas. “Lord Ravenstone, I didn’t believe you were actually here. Who would have thought an earl would really want to marry a — ”

“If you are not out of here in two minutes,” Lucas said in a clipped voice, “I will throw you out.”

“Yes, my lord.” Mr. Henson threw an anxious glance at Penelope and then clapped his hat on his head and started for the door.

Lucas turned to her, his dark eyes glinting with the sunlight coming in from the window. “Remind me never to refuse bargaining with you, nymph.”

She felt her blush. Really, all the man had to do was look at her to make her tremble with awareness. It was irritating. “I was desperate, Lucas.”

“And effective,” he murmured.

She hesitated, clasping her hands behind her back as she walked to the settee. “Now that the trouble with Mr. Henson is solved, there is no reason for you to stay.”

“I believe the notion makes you sad, nymph.”

Penelope looked at him, memorizing his features. She answered him honestly. “It does. I shall miss you, Lucas. I feel lucky to have finally met you, my lord.”

He barked with laughter and snatched her to him. “Do not fret so, little one. I am staying here. I told you I came here to marry you, and that’s what I mean to do.”

“What?” She put her hands on his chest. “Besides, didn’t you hear what Henson said? He is still a threat to your safety.”

He tipped her chin up and looked into her eyes. “I will not leave you to face him alone.”

She tried to see affection in the dark pools of his eyes, but they merely glinted from the sunlight streaming through the window.

As he lowered his mouth to hers, it occurred to Penelope that she was becoming used to him claiming kisses, and though she knew it was dangerous to keep letting him do this, she let it happen anyway.

Because this was temporary. Duty was all well and good, but she wanted none of it in her own marriage. Her parents had married for duty, and it was a disaster; she could not force that on this man. Lucas was not hers to keep, but for a little while, she wanted to know what it would be like to be his as she had dreamed all those years ago. Penelope wanted this memory to keep, to reminisce about in the lonely years ahead.

So she closed her eyes and savored how good it felt to be in his powerful arms once more, and, as she met his kiss with all the passion and gratitude she felt, she let the dream begin.

“You are planning to have an affair with him.”

After stating her conclusion, Mari continued stirring the beef stew she was cooking in The Mucky Duck’s kitchen.

Penelope watched Mari’s trim back and tried to peel the potato her friend had handed her five minutes ago. As far as Mari’s opinion went, she thought it best to debate that choice of words.

“I am not planning an affair, exactly.” She peeled another strip. It was not as easy as Mari made it look.

Mari sprinkled a dash of freshly ground pepper on the stew and gave it another stir. “What would you call it, then?”

Penelope concentrated on the potato. “A courtship.”

Mari whirled with the ladle in her hand, pointing it accusingly. “A courtship that won’t lead to marriage! The last I checked, that is called an affair.”

The heat from the stove in the steamy kitchen felt suffocating. How could spending time in this place be Mari’s idea of fun? The pungent aroma of the beef stew filled the room, and she longed to open the small window for some relief. Her hair clung to her sweaty temples as she struggled with the vegetable. Penelope was uncomfortable and miserable, and she didn’t really want to argue semantics any longer. It was already all she could do to try to ignore the tiny voice in her mind telling her that what she was planning was wrong.

Lucas said this attraction between them was natural. But while she was still thrilled he’d admitted he was attracted to her, she was unable squelch the feeling that she shouldn’t let him touch her so. Especially when she had no plans of marrying him.

How many other women had Lucas touched the way he did her? Well, it hardly mattered. He probably wouldn’t tell her anyway, and she wasn’t entirely certain she wanted to know. Because no matter the answer, it wouldn’t change the fact that she wanted him. Desperately.

Now that the trouble with Mr. Henson was over, there was no reason for Lucas to stay, despite his assurances that he was determined to marry her. Unless she gave him a reason. If that was a sin, then she would just have to pray for forgiveness later. She simply couldn’t bear the thought of Lucas leaving yet.

She resumed her efforts with the potato. “Call it whichever term you prefer. You will not change my mind.” She lost patience with the task and yanked hard, narrowly missing nicking her fingers.

Mari finally noticed her struggles and took over. “You must peel with the knife pointed away from you,” she advised. “That way, the knife’s sharp edge will be pointing away from your fingers.”

Penelope squelched a spurt of annoyance as she watched her friend peel away effortlessly at the dratted potato. There wasn’t a single stain on Mari’s apron, which was supposed to protect her pink day-gown. How could Penelope have a prayer of seducing Lucas when she couldn’t even keep her gown tidy while doing nothing more significant than preparing tuber?

She scowled at her friend’s pristine profile. “How can you enjoy doing this sort of thing? You know perfectly well one of the staff can take over this task.”

Mari proceeded to cut the potato into perfect, small cubes. “I am an innkeeper’s daughter. It comes with the territory.” She stopped chopping for the moment. “I will not let you change the subject. You do not want to risk your reputation with this scheme, Polly. Mama says a woman’s reputation is more important than her virtue.”

Penelope shrugged. “Your mother says a lot of things. It is all well and good for someone like you — who has a reason to protect her reputation — to be worried about it. Everyone knows you have the pick of the entire male population in this county.”

Mari grunted. “Oh, I have the pick of the lot, all right. I can choose between Martin who is a drunkard, a womanizer like Richard, or a wife-beater like Hamilton. Oh, and let’s not forget the sweet but humorless Melvin.” She gave her a pointed look. “Thanks, but I’d rather have my recipe book published than be a wife to any of those men.”

Penelope contemplated the stew beginning to boil on the stove. “Oh, but you are a spinster
by choice
. Whereas, we both know I’ve always been doomed to be like Mad Sally. Even my father knew it. Why else would he have felt compelled to force a betrothal between two children?”