In for a Penny (30 page)

Nev was waiting. Nev thought help was on the way.

Penelope remembered the Gothic heroine’s weapon. She began to scream, as loudly as she could. Surely they would hear. Surely they would come. Her throat hurt and Nev was beginning to sweat, and she could not tell how near help might be because her screams drowned out their noise. But if she could not tell, then Sir Jasper couldn’t either, and that was something.

“Tell your wife to shut the hell up!” Sir Jasper snarled, looking decidedly wild. On Nev’s next lunge, Sir Jasper seized his wrist. Nev twisted easily out of his grasp, but somehow Sir Jasper used their contact to swing them round so he was between Nev and Penelope.

Nev’s eyes widened, but whether he was looking at her or at something behind her, Penelope could not say; she saw him come to some sort of decision.

Nev charged forward, and Sir Jasper clocked him in the face. Nev fell like a stone.

The screams died in Penelope’s throat. In the abrupt silence,
she heard a rustle directly behind her, and thought she understood. Nev wasn’t unconscious. He was making Sir Jasper a clear target.

Sir Jasper made to kneel beside Nev, and Penelope said past the pain and soreness in her throat, “I’ll kill you if you touch him.” Where was the help? Why weren’t they shooting? Had she been wrong? Any second now Sir Jasper would kneel down and put his hands around Nev’s throat. She began to count to three; if nothing had happened by then, surely she could run into Sir Jasper hard enough to knock the two of them into a tripwire. If she could twist them round so he was toward the tree, she might not even be hurt.

One.

Two.

There was a deafening noise and a flash of red, and Sir Jasper slumped to the ground on top of Nev.

Penelope’s knees buckled, but she pushed herself forward in time to land on the ground at Nev’s side instead of falling into the tripwires.

Nev opened his eyes and looked at her. There were leaves in his hair and Sir Jasper’s blood was spattered across his face, and his smile was as sweet as ever. “I think I have a handkerchief in my pocket,” he said. He sounded absolutely all right, but when Penelope gingerly reached a hand under Sir Jasper’s shoulder to pull it out, her fingers came away wet with the baronet’s blood.

She started to cry again, and Nev shoved Sir Jasper off him and gathered her up. She clung to him, pressed into his chest, ignoring the blood smeared across her face and the snot still dribbling down her chin and the horrible, sniveling picture she must make. She focused instead on Nev’s heartbeat, steady under her ear. He held her and shushed her and stroked her hair and murmured, “It’s all right, sweetheart, you’re safe now, it’s all right, he can’t hurt you anymore, he can’t hurt our people, we’re safe.” He knew just what to say
and just how to hold her and he was perfect, perfect for her. How could she leave him? That had been death’s chief terror too: leaving Nev.

Penelope got through the next half hour in a daze: thanking the men who had shot Sir Jasper, telling Edward and Lord Thirkell that she was all right, really, it wasn’t her blood, it wasn’t Nev’s. Edward looked guilty and on edge. Penelope didn’t know why and didn’t have the energy to find out.

They were in the hall at the Grange. Nev was explaining for the tenth time what had happened, this time to the constable, inquiring how soon they could have an inquest and asking after Agnes Cusher and generally being a responsible landlord and a rational adult even though he was still gripping Penelope’s hand hard enough to hurt. Penelope was tired and bloody and her feet ached. “I want a bath.”

She was shocked at herself in the next instant, but Nev said, “Of course you do. I’m sorry, I’ll ring for Molly.”

She nodded. “C—come with me.” The constable smirked, Lord Thirkell coughed, and poor Edward looked as if he might have a coronary at any moment. Penelope blushed and set her chin and looked at Nev.

He blinked. “Penelope, are you sure—?”

She nodded, and Nev turned to the other men and said in his most charmingly rueful tones, “My wife has had a very long and frightening day. Perhaps if you came back tomorrow morning, we could discuss the matter further. Thirkell, you can move your things into one of the guest rooms if you’d like. And thank you.”

All too soon they were in her room, alone, waiting for the footmen to bring up the tub. Penelope did not know what to do. Reluctantly, she let go of Nev’s hand and went to the mirror. Good God, she looked dreadful.

It didn’t matter. Nev knew what she looked like.

Nev sighed behind her. “It’s all right, Penelope. I know you were just trying to distract Sir Jasper. I know you didn’t mean it. And I know you’re upset now. You’ve been through a lot today, and you don’t want to be alone. I understand. I won’t—” He stopped for a moment, then said, very steadily, “I won’t think it means more than it does. You don’t have to say anything.”

“No. No, I think I do. Nev, what I said this morning—”

“Can’t we talk about it later, Penelope?” He looked at the floor, sounding so tired it broke her heart. “I know you want to go, at least—at least for a while, and I know that it complicates things that there might be a child, and I know we have to talk about it. But does it have to be right now? Can’t we just take a damned bath because we’re both filthy and covered in our nearest neighbor’s blood and not talk about it?”

“No.”

His head jerked up at the unfamiliar edge in her voice.

“No, because you’ve got it all wrong. I don’t want to leave. I never wanted to leave, except—” She still didn’t know how to say it, she didn’t know what she would do if Nev said he didn’t love her, not like that, as a sister maybe, as a friend, but not like
that
.

“Except what?” The tiredness was gone from his voice.

“Oh, damn.” She rubbed at her forehead; bits of blood flaked off under her fingers. “I wasn’t lying to Sir Jasper, Nev.”

“You—you weren’t?” Nev sounded as if he were having difficulty speaking.

“No. I—that is, of course I was trying to distract him, but I was perfectly sincere. I
am
mad about you. I never thought love like this was real, but it is and it hurts and I can’t bear the thought of going away, but I can’t bear the thought of staying either—”

“Why on earth
not
?”

She could barely breathe, but the words kept coming anyway. “I told myself I was being strong, going; but I was being cowardly. I was frightened of telling you the truth. I didn’t want to stand here like I am now and wait for you to tell me that you don’t feel the same way. I know I told you I wanted a marriage based on comradeship and mutual esteem. I know we made a bargain. I know we made vows. And I’m sorry I’m not strong enough to keep them. I made that list, but none of them were the right things, the important things—you’ve
done
all that, you’ve been wonderful and I don’t know what I’ll do if you don’t feel the same way, I can’t bear it—”

Her nails were pressing into her palm until it hurt, until surely she was drawing blood, and then Nev was beside her and he was holding her hands in his and kissing her fingers. “Don’t, Penny, don’t, I love you too, I swear, don’t cry again—”

She giggled at that, but her chest hurt too. “How do you love me?”

“I love you to distraction,” he whispered in her ear. “My heart burns within me; I have no peace. I am so enamored I know not whether I am on horseback or on foot—”

He was quoting Malory. He was perfect. She laughed, her eyes stinging. “Do you mean it?”

He stepped back for a moment. “Have I ever lied to you, Penelope?”

She thought about it, and was surprised by the answer. “No. No, you never have.”

“Have I ever paid you in Spanish coin?”

“No,” she said again, giddy with it. He hadn’t, Nev had never lied to her, he wouldn’t, so all those things he had said to her, they must have been true—

“Will you stay?”

“Yes,” she promised, “yes.”

“Forever?”

“Well, you know what they say: a Penny saved is a Penny earned.”

Nev whooped and crushed her to him, and Penelope was definitely about to cry again when the door opened and Lady Bedlow walked in.

Penelope tried to pull back, but Nev held her tight against his side and she gave up, smiling like a fool. “Lady Bedlow, what can I do for you?”

“It’s Louisa,” Lady Bedlow said. “And I couldn’t wait downstairs, I had to see for myself that you were all right, oh, Nate, you scared me half to death! You look dreadful, are you sure you’re not hurt?” She did look white and shaken, and Penelope tried again to pull away so that Nev could go to his mother.

His hand was firm and unmoving on her hip. “Yes, I’m sure. What about Louisa, Mama?”

“She’s back,” Lady Bedlow said. “She and Percy.”

Nev groaned. “Oh, for God’s sake. Where?”

They were waiting on the front steps. “We didn’t want to go in; you
had
forbidden me the house—” Percy stopped short. “Good God, Nev, what’s happened to you?”

“Don’t worry, it’s Sir Jasper’s,” Nev said.

Louisa turned quite pale. “Oh, Nate—”

“It had nothing to do with you, Louisa.” Nev did think Louisa’s elopement might have been the penultimate straw for Sir Jasper, but he could hardly blame her for their neighbor’s insanity, and anyway he couldn’t be angry with anyone at the moment. “I thought you would be halfway to Gretna by now. Did you throw a wheel?”

“I made him turn back after the first twenty miles. I couldn’t do that to you, Nate, I couldn’t—”

His heart, already overflowing, threatened to burst.
“Thank you, Louisa. Would you like to announce your engagement tomorrow?”

Louisa tensed, looking dubiously at his blood-spattered waistcoat. “To…?”

He swallowed. “Sir Jasper’s dead, Louisa. I know I haven’t been the best of brothers, but how could you think I wanted you to marry him, anyway? He offered when we were still in London, and I turned him down.”

“I
told
you,” Percy said to Louisa in a superior tone.

Nev smiled at his friend. “Your engagement to Percy, naturally. But it will have to be a long one, Louisa. A year or two at least. You can live here in the meantime—”

He didn’t get farther than that, because Louisa and her new white dress flew into his arms, heedless of dirt and blood.

Penelope and Nev smiled at each other over their eggs and toast. Penelope eyed the honey jar thoughtfully, reaching for it just as Edward walked in. She drew back her hand with a sigh.

Edward fidgeted with the brim of his hat. “I just—I just wanted to say good-bye.”

Penelope glanced at Nev, who nodded. “All right,” she said. “I’ll see you out.”

She followed him in silence to the door, where his trunk was already lashed to the coach. On the first stair he turned. “I’m glad you’re safe, Penelope.”

“I know. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” he said bitterly. “If you had had to rely on me, I suppose you would be dead.”

She gave Edward a crooked smile. “Well, it’s true I was rather irked when I heard Miss Raeburn’s story, but you thought you were acting for the best. I don’t blame you, truly—”

“Of course not. You’re far too good-natured for that.”

Penelope thought again how little Edward really knew her.

“But I blame myself,” he said in a low, troubled voice. “I can’t help wondering—did I really believe she was delirious? I was angry with you, I think. I was angry that you didn’t love me. I told her you had a husband to take care of you, and I felt so spiteful—what if I knew? What if I knew you were in danger and I didn’t help you because I was angry?” His knuckles were white on the handle of his valise.

Penelope reached out and touched his arm. “You didn’t. I know you didn’t. Edward—I didn’t know this either until recently, but it’s all right to be angry. It really is. If you’re afraid of your emotions, it only makes them more dangerous. You have to—you have to let yourself feel.” She put her hand over his heart. “I know you, Edward. There’s nothing in here that you have to be afraid of.”

He looked down at her hand. “I wish I could be as sure.”

Even though she had been half wishing he would go for days now, she said, “Stay another few days, Edward. I don’t want you to leave like this.”

He smiled at her. “I’d only be in the way. I know that.”

“You’re still my best friend. Nothing will ever change that.” A thought struck her. The doctor had said that Amy’s exertions had weakened her greatly, and recommended she not be moved from the Grange. Penelope was surprised at how little she minded; and Amy’s pleasure at being back in a feather bed had been hard to resist. “Besides, Miss Raeburn is going mad from boredom, and if you’d sit with her a little it would be doing me the greatest favor.”

He hesitated, and then—Penelope hid a grin—blushed. “Are you sure?”

She nodded.

“I suppose I could read to her…”

Amy must be used to Nev’s reading. “Just talk to her. I don’t think—I don’t think people have really listened to her enough in her life.”

“I certainly didn’t,” Edward muttered, and asked the coachman to take down his trunk and send back the carriage.

The door opened, and Penelope slipped back into the breakfast room. “Now, where was I?” she asked, reaching for the honey.

Nev hastily swallowed his bite of muffin and put his napkin on the table, in case Penelope should decide to sit in his lap.

Louisa and Percy walked in; Nev devoutly hoped they had met on the stairs. Penelope picked up the jar of honey and began to demurely drizzle it onto a slice of toast, blushing only a little.

Nev stifled a sigh. He supposed he had better get used to having company at the breakfast table; Louisa would be living with them, after all, and Percy would start eating with the family again. Nev wondered for a moment where Thirkell was, since he’d moved his things in last night, then remembered that he never woke early enough for breakfast.

“Brioche!” Louisa exclaimed rapturously, and fell upon the spread. “Oh, Nate,” she said around a mouthful of brioche, “if you’re planning a daring raid on the jail to free the poachers, I want to come.”

Nev closed his eyes.