Dancing With the Gull (Revenge of the Wallflowers, #14)

Chapter Eleven

Henny rather hated being judged, and the earl was precisely the sort of man that he assiduously avoided. He wished that Kit had been there, seated between them. Kit always knew what to say. Kit wouldn’t have hesitated to engage the earl in conversation, would have been able to charm him in the way that powerful men were charmed by those they saw as their equals.

Henny was not in any way the earl’s equal, and he could tell that the earl saw that all too well.

Henny’s blood was pure enough, grandson to two dukes. He was now wealthy in his own right, and stood to inherit from his parents as well. Men like Lady Penelope’s father, however, expected even more. Intelligence. Ambition. A man who knew what to say and when to say it.

Henny knew that his intelligence was of an odd sort, rarely noticed by others and considered unusual when it was perceived. He only knew what to say when he’d studied a particular social interaction often enough to memorize it. When he didn’t know what to say he remained silent, something that most interpreted as a lack of intelligence on his part. Who knew, perhaps it was. If he didn’t know what to say, didn’t that mean he was dumb? By one definition if not the other.

Without saying a word, the earl conveyed his belief that his daughter deserved better. Henny wasn’t usually one to notice unspoken opinions, so undoubtedly his parents noticed it as well. As he escorted Lady Penelope down the short flight of stairs to the garden, he looked at her. She looked happy and was absolutely stunning this evening. The rich blue of her gown was perfect against her creamy skin and chestnut brown hair. She was smiling at the profusion of flowers that bloomed near the house.

“Oh!” She reached out a hand to a nearby plant. “Are these the roses you sent to me?”

“They’d not bloomed yet. Yours were from the sister plants my mother keeps in the conservatory.” He nodded across the lawn to a large glass structure adjacent to the manor.

“How capital! I hadn’t even noticed that yet. This must have been a delightful place to grow up. I adore your parents! They seem so worldly while also being so settled and unpretentious. And, of course, I love how they seem so comfortable with the house positively overrun with dogs. My parents can barely stand my three pets even though they never see them.” She paused and bit her lip. “I’m prattling again, aren’t I?”

He patted her hand where it lay on his forearm, in the hopes of being consoling. “Not at all, I like listening to you.”

“I feel I should leave some room for you to speak, as I’m not quite sure how we plan to proceed, or even if you really intend to do so. For my part, I’m more than happy to continue with the charade. It’s the most fun I’ve had in society since, well, probably ever. Just considering what I might say to any of those harridans who think to entrap you has kept me endlessly entertained... and now I’m running on again.” She clamped her lips shut.

Perhaps it didn’t matter if the earl believed his daughter deserved better, because Lady Penelope didn’t actually plan to marry him. She’d been rather clear about that, thus far.

He tried to be clear, as well. “I deeply appreciate that you would do this, pretend an affection you do not feel, perhaps even at the risk of your own reputation. As we’ve never been friends, and you have no reason to do it for your own purposes, it speaks to an honor and courage in your character that is rare everywhere, but most often lacking in our class. I will leave it to you to dictate how we are to proceed, not only because such things should be at a lady’s discretion, but also because I can assure you that I would have no insight on how to proceed with any courtship at all, much less a false one.”

She stared at him open-mouthed. He considered putting his finger under her chin to make her close it, but she finally did so herself and shook her head. “I believe that is the most I’ve ever heard from you.”

“I knew what I wanted to say.”

“Yes, well. Quite.” She turned away and looked out across the gently rolling lawn. “What are those buildings?”

“The larger one is my father’s current carriage house. The smaller one is the old carriage house, which also houses my quarters.”

“Oh, you don’t live in the manor house?”

He chuckled. “This is how I manage to live with my parents without actually living with my parents.”

“Why didn”t you take bachelor’s quarters in town?”

He mulled how much to say, but decided the more she knew about him the more authentic their false relationship would seem. “I’m my parents” only living child, and there is a sense of responsibility that comes with that. I was the last born, and it felt like they spent the first fifteen years of my life holding their breath. My eldest brother lived until he was fourteen, you see. He’s the only sibling I have any memory of, even though I was three when he passed.”

“What happened?”

“Typical boyish foolishness, I suppose. He fell through some ice in the winter. Not in enough water to drown, mind you, but he was wet and didn’t come inside straight away. In a strange way, when so many of your siblings die young of fevers and such, you feel somewhat invincible. I can understand his state of mind, even though his death made me more cautious than he ever was. He came down with a terrible ague and lingered for weeks. Although I don’t remember him well, I very clearly recall my mother’s grief. My father’s remoteness. If it makes them feel better to have me underfoot, then I don’t mind.”

“That’s terrible. I’m so very sorry you’ve all been through that.”

“Unfortunately, children die often, regardless of how safe we try to keep them.”

“If my parents lost any children I don’t know of it. I suppose it’s possible.”

“You have two siblings, as I recall.”

“Yes, my brother Cecil is the eldest and then Adeline is about your age. It has been just me at home for nine years and it is very much not my preference. All I wish is to receive my dowry and buy a cottage where I can be alone with my books and pets.”

Ah, there it was then. She had dreams that precluded marriage, much less marriage to him. He relied on his social training to continue the conversation, even though he didn’t really wish to hear the path her life was going to take away from him. “Why a cottage?”

She smiled. A soft curve of her lips as she spoke her dreams. She told him all about what her cottage would look like, down to specific chairs and flowers. How she would ensure her pets were safe in her enclosed garden. How she would read near her windows in the summer sunshine.

Once she’d exhausted the topic she asked him, “Did you refinish the whole carriage house?”

“No. I have two rooms above and my batman has a third. Everything else is still storage and such.”

“Oh. Had I the means, I would have refinished it into a home. You’re very lucky, I’m sure your parents are delightful neighbors.”

They’d reached the center of the gardens, where some tall hedges and well-maintained trees circled a tidy clearing with urns and a fountain. She released his arm and spent a few moments inspecting the stonework and plaster. She was an intensely curious creature, always interested in the world around her. He couldn’t help but watch her as she explored, drawn to her.

War always complained that once Henny decided that someone or something was his, that he never let go. It was generally true, but this was one time that he couldn’t follow that natural inclination. As such, he could only enjoy what time they spent together and try not to think too deeply about what would happen later.

She finally returned to his side. “I think it would be appropriate for the growing story of our romance if we were to steal a kiss out here in the garden.”

What delightful and terrible news. The closer they became, the more loath he would be to let her go. Rather than debate the point with her, he traced his hand lightly along her jaw before cupping it behind her neck. He brushed his lips over hers and heard her tiny gasp of surprise. Such a sweet, innocent girl. He touched their lips together again, this time with the slightest of pressure, the lightest of lingering. He felt her relax under his touch. What a pleasure it was to feel her willing, wanting. This time his lips clung to hers, damp and seeking. She tasted exquisite, like wine and some lovely essence all her own. Desire for her coursed bright and hot in his veins. He needed to taste her more deeply, but when he pulled her closer and slicked his tongue over the seam of her lips, she struggled away.

She stared at him with wide eyes for a moment, then turned away. Her voice was shaky as she said, “If you don’t wish to marry me, then I suggest you not kiss me like that again.”

After a moment he ventured, “Are you saying that if I do want to, then I should?”

Rather than answer, she started walking back toward the manor house.