How to Wed an Earl (26 page)

He stiffened. His wife was trying to break him. He knew he was playing a dangerous game, but he couldn’t help himself. Even so, this was different. Penelope could easily get hurt if she went near the nervous animals.

Before he could refuse her request, however, she reached the horses, touching first one and then the other — at one point she reached up and pinched the horses’ upper lips. She never grabbed the reins to steady the pair.

He could only watch, enthralled, while his wife soothed the Friesians with her touch, never uttering a single word. For no words seemed necessary between her and his animals. She was in her element here.

“How did she do that?” Olivia asked from behind him as they watched the horses follow Penelope as if in a trance to the phaeton, which Blakewood and some onlookers had righted.

He shook his head. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Penelope has been working with animals her whole life, so she must have learned a thing or two about charming horses.” Not only horses, judging by several of the
ton
’s open admiration of the spectacle that was his wife as she sauntered back toward him.

“Penelope, that was amazing!” Olivia said. “You must teach me how you did that.”

“Of course,” she readily promised. “But all I did was reassure them everything was under control.”

“That was amazing,” Olivia repeated to herself as she watched Penelope return to the phaeton to make sure the horses were still fine.

“You approve of your new sister-in-law, then?” he asked quietly.

His sister turned to him before replying, “I really do.” She gave him a cheeky grin before adding, “She must truly love you, because I actually still have trouble believing she agreed to have you.”

“You impertinent chit,” he chided good naturedly. “Am I such a bad catch, then?

Olivia rolled her eyes. “Let me put it this way, if you’d come to
me
and said you had to marry me to save the Ravenstone estates because you couldn’t circumvent Father’s will, I’d have told you to go to the devil.”

His gaze shot back to his wife and his heart stopped when he realized she’d made her way back to them, close enough to hear the remark. Penelope’s face paled, and her lips parted. If he needed any more indication of the disaster that was about to occur, Penelope’s look of betrayal more than sufficed. Damn it, why hadn’t he warned Olivia that Penelope knew nothing of their father’s will? The words that tumbled so casually from his sister’s lips had the decimating effect of a violent explosion, and the victim stood frozen in shock for several minutes.

He couldn’t believe this was happening. The stupid words pounded in his ears, and a lump formed in his throat as he helplessly watched Penelope’s eyes narrow with accusation, then she seemed to recover her composure and she gave an overly bright smile before turning to his young, foolish sister and said in a hollow voice, “I’m glad I was able to help.”

“You’re always helpful to others, Penelope,” Olivia declared, blithely unaware of the tense undercurrents flowing between the other people in the conversation. “I must go and see if Lord Blakewood needs any help.” Olivia gave Penelope an impulsive hug, apparently not caring that Penelope’s gown was spattered with mud. “Thank you for convincing my big ox of a brother to give Lord Blakewood a chance. I would never have been able to talk him into doing that.” She gave a conspiratorial grin. “We girls must stick together, right?”

“Right,” Penelope answered in a barely audible whisper, her gaze never leaving Lucas’s face as Olivia walked away.

The lump in his throat choked any reply he could have made. He returned Penelope’s pained gaze steadily, willing her to let him explain. And just as silently, her gaze told him that no explanation was necessary.

God dammit!
Never in his worst imaginings did he consider that his own sister would cause his downfall. He wanted to hold Penelope and tell her he was sorry, that he had never meant to hurt her. He wanted to tell her it wasn’t his fault she had seen something in him that simply wasn’t there, hadn’t been there for a very long time.

Most of all, he wanted to hear her say she still loved him — the real him — despite her disillusionment. And when Lucas realized the implausibility of his wish, the dark specters from the past took over what remained of his soul.

• • •

Reality is what we make of it.

The words she’d uttered the night Lucas had conspired to make her marry him revolved in her head as she stared at herself in the mirror, perched on the same chair she had sat on a week ago, conspiring to fight for her husband’s affections.

“Reality is what we make of it,” she whispered to the woman in the mirror.

Her own reflection stared back as she considered how words that had once seemed so intelligent and philosophical mocked her now. She’d made an entire reality out of her foolish assumptions and vanity, believing despite all the evidence to the contrary that one day she could make Lucas acknowledge his love for her.

In the silence of the evening, Penelope was forced to face the folly of her actions. It was no wonder it had been so easy for Lucas to refuse to admit he loved her. No wonder he’d never claimed to feel anything for her but physical desire. There had been nothing else for him to admit to. And the worst part of it was she couldn’t even blame him for it, no matter how much she wanted to. Because even though his duty to the Ravenstone estates compelled him to withhold the reason for his reappearance into her life, he’d been honest about everything else.

There had been no reason for Lucas to lie, for she had been more than willing to lie to herself.

He never ran away from the dictates of honor and responsibility. He always did what needed to be done, even if fulfilling his duties came with an overfilled piece of baggage like her. She had just been too caught up in her fantasy to notice what should have been obvious. She understood his reasons perfectly. Unfortunately, understanding something did not make it any less painful or humiliating. A choked, hysterical laugh escaped her as she considered the mess she’d made of their lives because of her foolish dreams.

“You just had to do it, didn’t you?” she accused the lady in the mirror. “You just couldn’t help yourself.”

She’d thought because she had nothing that was of use to him, there must have been some deeper reason that made him decide to make her his wife. And she had been right — Penelope had been more useful to him than she could have ever imagined, for her dowry had been nothing less than almost the entirety of the Ravenstone estates.

The flickering flame from the beeswax candle on the vanity wavered before her eyes as she fought back tears.

“Idiot,” she whispered. She’d lived through the lonely years of her childhood clinging to the fantasy of him, and she’d proceeded to trap both of them in the fantasy by marrying him. She cringed at the thought of how uncomfortable she must have made him every time she blurted out how much she loved him. She couldn’t blame him for that either, because even then, he had been nothing but a gentleman about it. God help her, she almost felt sorry for him.

And the sad fact was she couldn’t leave this marriage any more than she could change his feelings for her.

She watched a small, pain-filled smile twist her too plump mouth as she finally accepted the truth, all the things she was, and all the things she would never be. She was no nymph. She was just plain, old Penelope, destined to wait for a man who, laden with duties, may or may not ever come. Because she was not enough for him. Had he ever really desired her or had he only done his duty to sire an heir?

Bile rose up in her throat. No, she shouldn’t dwell on that. She simply would not be able to bear it if she went down that path. Instead, she grabbed her hairbrush and tossed it at the mirror, releasing the anguish starting to twist her insides mercilessly now. Anger rushed in to take its place. She was through waiting for him. Her foolish fantasy had done enough damage to their lives. It had to stop now. She could not do anything about the validity of their marriage, but she would do something about another aspect of it.

She started when she heard Lucas dismiss his valet in his own bedchamber. She strode to the door that connected their rooms and leaned her head against it, praying for courage. Then she drew a deep breath and opened the door.

Lucas prowled his bedchamber like a caged, predatory beast, alternately hoping Penelope would show up as she had done every night since their wedding, and berating himself for the weakness that made him yearn to yank the connecting door and demand she come to him.

He’d been unable to tear his gaze from her during their uncomfortable drive back from Hyde Park with Olivia and the damnable Blakewood, who’d been utterly oblivious to the havoc that had been wrought that afternoon. He watched the last sparkle languish in Penelope’s eyes as she stared out of the window of Blakewood’s coach, and he didn’t appreciate the stab of guilt that pierced through him at the sight of her looking quietly dignified and still, despite the mud-splattered emerald gown she’d been wearing.

He’d spent most of the evening in his club, trying to drown the memory of her heartbroken gaze with the finest brandy Brooks’s had to offer. He was on his second bottle when the unpleasant feeling of indignation settled in his chest.

Why was he feeling so guilty about doing his duty? It was not his fault Penelope nurtured illusions of love where there was none. She had no right to feel betrayed, for she had brought it all on herself. He’d never lied to her about his feelings. And yet here he was, pacing a track on the Oriental rug in his bedchamber, waiting for her.

He whirled around when he heard her approach, unable to squelch the surge of relief that coursed through him at the sight of her.

Penelope strode deeper into the darkened room. With her almost transparent nightgown and bare feet, she looked exactly like a nymph who should have been tramping about in the woods. And despite the severity of the moment, his body tightened in response to her nearness. She stopped in front of him, just out of his reach.

“You win,” Penelope said in a small, tired voice.

Her words confused him. What did she mean, he’d
won?

She must have seen the question in his face, for she lifted her hand in a helpless gesture and then let it drop to her side before clarifying her statement. “I never should have fought for your affections. I should have realized there was nothing there to fight for.” She let out a deep sigh. “You win.”

He closed the space between them, searching her face for signs of what she was feeling, but for the first time since he’d known her, he couldn’t find any emotion in her expression. “I never meant to hurt you,” he stated, keeping the guilt slashing through him from his voice.

“Because you didn’t think you could,” she finished the statement for him in a resigned tone. She shook her head. “But you did hurt me, and the most galling thing about it is I understand why you did it.” Her voice broke. “You had to keep what was rightfully yours, and you did what you had to do. You’ve always been willing to sacrifice your own needs to fulfill your duty.”

He couldn’t argue with her logic, so he admitted something else. “It was not such a great sacrifice,” he rasped out.

His words spurned her into action. “Oh my God, Lucas, would you please stop with the lies!” She stepped back as if she couldn’t bear to be near him any longer. “I am tired of being thought of as nothing more than useful, and I am bone-weary of lying to myself so I can be used.” Without looking at him, she raised her arm to point accusingly in his direction. “I waited a
lifetime
for you, and you never would have come if it weren’t for your father’s will. So don’t stand there and tell me you didn’t think you were sacrificing yourself when you wed me to do your duty.”

He was saying one wrong thing after another. He took a step toward her but stopped when she recoiled from him. “Listen to me. Stop moving away and just listen to me, nymph.”

“Don’t call me that!”

“Fine!” he shot back. He raked a hand through his hair as he tried to think of a way to reach her. “I wasn’t lying when I said it wasn’t a sacrifice. Dammit, Penelope, just because I can’t love you back doesn’t mean I don’t want to be married to you.” He drew a deep breath before confessing something he’d never told anyone. “It has nothing to do with you. I just can’t love anyone, sweetheart. Whatever part of me that could have died with my father.”

“Your father didn’t love anyone either,” she burst out.

He uttered a harsh laugh. “You’re wrong, nymph. He loved my mother so much that when she died, his entire being went with her. You’ve only ever seen the good side of love, but I know how it can destroy a person and everyone around him. I swore long ago I would never let that happen to me.”

Her head lifted and she finally turned to face him. “It seems to me your father loved only himself. If he truly loved your mother, he would have stayed to take care of his children, because you were the part of Vivian that was still with him.” She gave him a look of pity. “Love makes a person endure, Lucas. It’s the absence of it that destroys.”

The words were so absurd they staggered him. “If you are expecting me to spout ridiculous promises of love, then you are more naive than I thought.” He hadn’t meant to be so blunt, but he couldn’t bring himself to lie to her anymore either. “I desire you, Penelope. I have always desired you, more than anyone I have ever known and more than I have ever thought possible. But don’t think I can offer you more than physical satisfaction, because that is all I have left in me to give.”

She gave him an incredulous look. “Rubbish! Don’t try to make me feel better by telling me you can’t love anyone.” She walked over to him. “I’ve seen the way you care for your sister, and the love you have for your servants. The only one you can’t seem to love is me.”

Her gaze slid to the crackling flames in the fireplace. “So I release you from our bargain,” she said quietly. “You are free to find a mistress, Lucas.”

He felt as if he’d been kicked in the stomach. “You no longer love me now that you know I can’t return your feelings?” The words tasted like acid on his tongue.