Wedded in Sin (34 page)

Was he headed for debtor’s prison? The very idea shook him to the core.

“You’ll be fine,” he said to Carl. “Your father-in-law, and all.”

The man groaned in response, but didn’t disagree.

“And Greg has the baronetcy. He’ll have to share with Mother, but they always got on well.”

“But what about you, Sammy? Where will you go?”

Prison, probably. He almost said it aloud with a hysterical kind of laugh. Someone pressed a brandy glass into his hand. He opened his eyes. It was Penny, her expression calm, her eyes sympathetic. Giving in to temptation, he wrapped an arm around her and pressed his face into her belly. Last night, he’d pretended he could do this to her when she was pregnant with his child. He’d actually imagined listening for the babe’s heartbeat.

Now it took everything in him not to weep. He could never have her. She deserved a man who could take her to parties and balls, who would support their children in style and send them to the finest schools in England. Samuel was so far from that man. He shouldn’t even have been touching her, but he couldn’t let her go. And when he felt her hand gently stroke his hair, he nearly sobbed out his despair right there.

“Hush, Samuel. There’s always a way. Isn’t that what you said to me? We’ll find a way.”

There was no way. “Fire,” he mumbled against her belly. “Why didn’t I think about fire?”

“Posh. Why didn’t I think about a solicitor writing my father’s false will? Because we don’t think about these things. If we thought about all the bad that could happened, we’d never get out of bed. And we’d still miss things.”

Samuel didn’t answer. Instead, he inhaled deeply, smelling the scent that was Penny. Feeling the caress of her hand in his hair. And wishing for one last time for the things that could never be now. He wasn’t her Sir Galahad. He was the court jester, and now it was time for him to withdraw.

He forced himself to straighten away from her. It was perhaps the hardest thing he’d ever had to do, but he was a man, damn it, and he would not wallow like a lost child.

“It’s time, I suppose, to take you home. I shall ask Rachel for her carriage—”

“What? Don’t be silly. It’s a nice night and—”

“The evening should end as it began, Penny. A beautiful night to remember forever.”

She looked at him then, her eyes calm and her body still. She was thinking hard, he knew, but he hadn’t a clue about what. Then the moment passed, and she was turning to the marchioness.

“Can you see to his friend?” she asked the lady, indicating Carl. “Can you see he gets home safely?”

“Of course,” the lady answered.

“Then I’ll take charge of Mr. Morrison.” She gripped him under the arm and lifted. He obeyed quietly, having no strength to do anything else.

Rachel stepped forward. “I’ll summon my carriage—”

“No need,” interrupted Penny. “I can call for it. You make sure Mr. Bingley gets home to his wife.”

“Of course, Miss Shoemaker. It was a pleasure meeting you. And, Samuel,” she added with a bright smile, “I must thank you again for keeping my party lively.”

She meant it as a joke, and Samuel took it as his due. He was the court fool. Entertaining was what he did and would likely have to do for many a year to come. After all, parties were the only way he would find food. And with that thought in mind, he drained the brandy in his hand. It would likely be the last he had for a very long time. Then he turned to Penny, a little startled to see the look of cold disgust on her face. For a moment, he thought it was directed at him. It should have been. But instead, she was looking at the marchioness.

“We’ll be leaving now,” she said curtly.

Rachel nodded to them. Then, mindful of his role as Penny’s escort, Samuel offered her his arm. She took it as regally as any queen, and together they walked through the gauntlet of intrigued stares and superior snickers. Samuel kept his face calm—as did Penny—and eventually they made it outside.

“Damnation,” he cursed. “We forgot to call for the carriage.”

“No matter,” she said, not slowing her pace at all. “We shall walk.”

“Penny—”

“Hush, Samuel. I am determined to walk, and so you may accompany me or summon the carriage for yourself. I’ll not ride in that woman’s carriage again.”

Her tone was sharp enough to surprise him. “Has the marchioness offered you some insult I didn’t notice?”

“Insult to me? No! But imagine her thanking you for making her party entertaining.”

He winced. “She was joking.”

“She was not. At least not fully. How many of them in there see you as a prancing dog? ‘Tell me about my watch, Morrison.’ ‘I hear Warwick is in the suds again. Do you think he’ll recover?’ ‘Do you recall the weather three days ago?’ Blimey, but they were dreary. And you call them your friends?”

He blinked at her, startled to hear the defiance in her voice. Was she really defending him? When he had just proved to everyone of the
ton
how inadequate he was at supporting a family?

“That is the role I play at these things,” he said honestly. “I am invited because I entertain.”

“But you call them your friends!” she snapped.

“Well, they are. Some of them. Not all, but some I like quite well.” He slowed, turning her to look at him square on. “I wanted to take you to a ball. To dance with you and see how beautiful you were in a gown made for the very wealthiest among us. And you were, you know. Stunningly beautiful. Up until Carl gave me that facer, I was the envy of everyone there.”

She snorted, but he could see that she was pleased by his words. Reaching up, she touched his face. “Samuel, will you walk with me?”

“Of course.” Then he frowned at the streets. This was not the way to the dress shop. “Where are we headed?”

“To your rooms.”

He swallowed at that, but she kept her expression steady.

“Penny…” he began, not knowing what exactly he wanted to say.

“And as we walk,” she said firmly, “I should like you to explain what happened. If you would.”

Of course he would. He could deny her nothing. But still it was hard to expose his failing to her. The event was so new.

He patted her hand and they began to walk again, their steps slow. Fortunately it was early enough by
ton
standards that there were still people about. That gave them the illusion of safety and respectability. Though he did keep a wary eye out for footpads.

“Samuel, what happened?”

“I invested in two factories. They made furniture. Good, sturdy, cheap furniture such that could be created in a factory and shipped throughout England, perhaps onto the Continent. Nothing that required art or decoration. The one made desks and chairs. The other made tables and bed frames. Nothing elaborate. Just simple and cheap.”

“And now they have both burned down.”

He nodded, his spirits turning morose. “We have had problems aplenty. The workers didn’t understand, always wanting to put time into making the things lovely.”

She smiled at that. She would, of course, being an artisan herself.

“But that wasn’t the purpose of this furniture. No man should have to sleep on the floor or squat on a rock in his own home. I thought to make simple, affordable furniture. For everyone.”

“So you had problems?” she prompted when he fell silent.

He nodded. “A shipment of wood went awry. Someone fouled the paint. That sort of thing. Annoying, certainly, but we got it sorted out. Had the mischief makers arrested, in fact.”

“Then things went well?”

He nodded. In truth, he hadn’t paid that much attention. The Season had started and all appeared to be running smoothly. “I hadn’t heard of any problems. The first load went out to the stores a month ago. Sales were just as expected.” His brother had checked on that. Greg was very careful with that sort of detail. Usually Samuel checked things out at the beginning. Greg followed through to make sure it all went as it ought.

“So it was doing well.”

“Expected the first profits—”

“On quarter day.”

He nodded. It was the day he had meant to propose to her. Now he hoped that he would spend the day free of prison.

“Damned timing, isn’t it?” she asked. “Are you sure you caught all the mischief makers?”

He glanced at her, startled anew by her intelligence. “Of course we did. Or rather, I thought we did.”

She nodded. He was already following her logic, thinking through the possibilities with an eye to sabotage. After all, if someone wanted to destroy the factory, he might start small: fouling the paints, misdirecting the supplies. But when that didn’t work, he would have to take more drastic measures. Perhaps to the point of setting the factory ablaze.

“I have to see the ruins,” he said to himself.

“What?”

“The fire. There are signs when a place is deliberately set ablaze. Every fire takes a predictable, logical path. The science is relatively simple once you learn the basic principles. There are ways to tell if the blaze was an accident or a deliberate attempt at sabotage.”

He looked up at the sky, thought about the time, his remaining coins, and the different ways to travel to his destination. His brother and Carl would want to join him. They were equal investors. Not that solving a crime would save any of them. The factories were destroyed, but perhaps there would be satisfaction in seeing the guilty caught and punished.

“I will have to leave in the morning,” he said to himself. “Greg won’t be up before then. And it will give me a chance to apologize to them. And to Max.” He sighed. “Poor Max will have to leave London.” He didn’t know who would mourn that more—himself or the boy. Damn, he had loved having them here. His mind spun off on what he might say to the boy to make things better. To Max, to Georgette and Greg. At least the little girl was too small to understand. Though she would realize when everyone had to up and leave for the country. It was all his fault—

“So you set the fire then?”

He frowned. “What?”

“I’m looking at your face, Samuel. I can see you feel responsible. But if you didn’t set the fire, then how can it be your fault?”

“I’m the smart one,” he said honestly. “They invested because I said to.”

“And seems to me they took a risk right alongside you. Not all businesses work out, you know.”

He kicked at a stone, his mind spinning beneath the onslaught of guilt. This investment would have made all of their futures, Penny’s included if she had accepted his suit. Now…

“Stop it!” she snapped, pulling his face to hers. He hadn’t even noticed that she’d stopped, but now she stood directly in front of him and her eyes were practically blazing with fury.

“You’re not a trained dog, like those blighters at the party think. You’re not an all-knowing god, like you seem to think. Just like I’m not a queen, you’re not a knight errant. You’re just a man, Samuel. A good man with a good heart. But that doesn’t keep you from making mistakes.”

He looked at her, saw that her eyes were hot and her breath short as she grew furious on his behalf. He saw that she was beautiful in her clothing, but all the more amazing because she understood his thoughts without him even expressing them. When had he last known a person—man or woman—who could know what he was thinking and talk to him so clearly?

Never. Except perhaps the one tutor when he was a boy. Never in his adult life, and never a woman. Not until Penny. “I would have married you,” he whispered. He wanted her to know that. “I would have showered you with gifts, given you and Tommy everything you wanted. I would have done that for you.”

She said something under her breath. A curse, he thought, except that why would a woman curse after he said that? He couldn’t reason it out, especially since she didn’t give him the time. She stretched up on her toes and pressed her mouth to his.

He wanted to hold her off. He wanted to be an honorable man. If he couldn’t marry her, then he shouldn’t…

But her mouth was insistent and her body was warm. He felt her arms slip around his torso and her breasts press against his chest. So he gave in to temptation. He tightened his hold, he bent her slightly backward, and he plundered her mouth with all the desperation he had burning through him. He poured it all into her, and she took it and turned it into passion. Within a second, he was rock hard.

“Penny!” he gasped, breaking off the kiss and knowing he was a few breaths away from doing things to her that were certainly
not
in the chivalric code.

She twisted slightly, bringing her lips to his ears. She spoke softly, but with a determination that rang through her words and her body straight into his.

“I have French letters,” she said. “And I want you to be my man. Tonight.”

“Penny,” he murmured, trying desperately to hold on to his better judgment. “I cannot—”

“I’m not some bloody queen,” she huffed. “Now take me to your rooms or I shall strip you naked right here in the street.”

She wouldn’t, of course, but one look in her eyes told him she was in earnest. She would absolutely attempt to seduce him right here on the street.

“You are the most amazing woman.”

“And you are the strangest toff.” She gripped his ear and pulled him close. “Now take me to your bed.”

So he did.

Chapter 21