Chapter Eighteen
To her frustration, Penelope learned Lord Henry was intractable about one thing. As much as he wanted to talk about it, he would not join with her until they were married. He clearly wanted to. She wanted him to. If they were going to marry anyway, what did the timing matter?
If someone told her six months ago that she would be negotiating pre-marital sex with the most attractive man she knew, she would have laughed in their face. But here they were.
To her surprise, when they announced their intention to marry to their families, both mothers were adamant that the wedding wait until the Season started again. Pen wasn’t as surprised that her own mother wanted to create an event out of it, but was very surprised that Henry’s mother also wanted them to wait.
Perhaps as a distraction, Lady Greer set about planning a house party. Both families, plus Henry’s friends Kit and War, Kit’s wife Sarah, and Sarah’s friend Ana.
Pen thought it was both a wonderful and terrible idea. It would be wonderful if she were able to just enjoy having her family and new friends around her. Instead, it would be hours of being near Henry without being able to be with Henry. Torture.
Also, she had to leave her pets behind in the care of the staff. She trusted the staff well enough, but who would dote on the poor beasts? There was a difference between care and caretaking. They were used to her near constant affection.
The front yard of the estate was filled with playful dogs again when they arrived. Another carriage was in front of theirs, and Pen saw Ana step out of it. She still wasn’t sure that she and Ana would be bosom friends, but she was certainly grateful for the time and space she was allowed to explore her attraction to Lord Henry. Would either of them have really considered marriage if they hadn’t tried carnal pleasures together? She wasn’t sure.
They made it through the greetings and assignment of rooms and all the various pleasantries required before settling into a house party. Not that Pen had been to many. Only two. One needed to be invited to house parties, and Pen had never been popular. Of those she attended, she was fairly certain they needed to round numbers and due to her heritage and general quietness she was the least offensive option. She’d found them generally dull affairs because she had little interest in the entertainments of the fast crowd.
This week would undoubtedly be different, but she wasn’t sure in what ways. Clearly, it was an opportunity for their two families to grow closer. It was also an opportunity for Pen to get to know Henry’s friends better, as Ana warned her that the three were as close as friends could be.
After she’d arranged her belongings to her liking, she stepped into the hallway and almost into her soon-to-be-betrothed. He smiled at her and herded her back into her room, closing the door.
“Henry!” she protested. “Someone could find us.”
“They wouldn’t blame us for needing to greet each other with better than curtsies and bows,” he said, nuzzling her face before kissing her gently on the lips.
The kiss was divine, but she had to admit that after days without him she didn’t want gentleness from him. She brushed her hand over his placket, and he growled.
“No wonder you worry about them finding us, you naughty vixen.”
“This isn’t my fault,” she said. “I knew nothing about pleasure until you taught me.”
He growled again, but this growl sounded quite pleased, and he kissed her more fervently.
When he drew back, she stared at him. How could it be true that this handsome, complicated man preferred her?
“You have to tell me what you’re thinking,” he said.
“I think that you are far too handsome.”
He smiled, making him more handsome still. Not the vacant, pleasant smile he displayed in public, but a real one that dimpled his cheek and made the corners of his eyes crinkle. If she’d not been in love before then she very much was now. She could stare at him for hours, just a lovesick fool.
“Check to see if there is anyone in the hallway, or if I can slip away,” he prompted.
She popped her head into the hallway. “No one,” she whispered to him.
He kissed her gently on the lips again, and stepped out into the hall, walking as though he’d just been on his way to the library or some such, rather than stealing a kiss from her. She’d not known he had that much of the rogue in him. She closed the door again and leaned against it, reliving yet another of his kisses. She already had a storehouse of them and didn’t think she would forget even one.
***
WAR LOOKED UP FROM the billiards table. “Where have you been? You were supposed to join us half an hour ago.”
Henny shrugged. “Lost track of time, I suppose.”
It was, after all, something he was known for. His capacity to get lost in what he was doing was what compelled him to be so precise in monitoring time for his social responsibilities. Left to his own devices, however, he had no sense of time at all.
But in this instance, he hadn’t lost track of time. He’d heard that Penelope arrived. No matter how much he’d counseled himself that he shouldn’t seek out her room, he found himself doing it. No matter how much he told himself that he shouldn’t corner her in that room and kiss her, that was exactly what he did.
He surmised that he had no free will when it came to her. Oddly, the thought didn’t bother him at all.
“Are you going to play, or just stare at the wall all day?” War groused.
Kit frowned. “Let the man have some peace.”
“He let his mother invite Mrs. Baxter, he ignores us while we’re here, I don’t see why I should give him any peace at all.”
“Are you grumpy, War?” Kit admonished.
The taller man straightened. “No, not at all.”
“Don’t believe you. Pretty sure you sound grumpy,” Kit said.
War edged around the table, but Kit stood in his way. While the two stared each other down, Hen played his role of coming up behind War and clasping him in a relentless hug. When they were younger, War used to struggle like a drowning cat. He’d since learned to take his medicine with a modicum of decorum. Hen had always been a hugger after any sort of upset among them, and War was always resistant to hugs. What War hated to admit, and Kit saw very clearly, was that an upset War always needed a hug. They’d figured it out after a huge fight among the three of them that panicked Hen, and he’d clung to War like a drowning man because he simply couldn’t let go of his friends. That was the only time they’d ever seen War sob. Under normal circumstances, the proper use of a bullying hug would eventually relax him.
When Hen felt War’s shoulders finally drop he released his friend and stepped away. “Which one of you sots is going to play against me at this game?”
“Kit,” War said, handing his stick to Hen. “I feel the need to drink.”
“Pour one for me, too,” Kit said.
“Hen?” War asked.
Henny nodded, absorbed in studying the table.
“Has the lady set a date yet?” Kit asked him quietly.
“Not yet. Our mothers are peculiarly attached to the idea of waiting until the Season starts again.”
Kit shrugged. “Perhaps for the lady’s reputation. A quick, quiet wedding infers the need for there to be a quick quiet wedding.”
Hen shot his ball and studied the table again. “There wouldn’t be a need for a quick, quiet wedding if they would just let us marry now.”
War snorted. “I wondered how you’d kept your hands off of her, and clearly the answer is that you haven’t.”
“There’s no need to worry about a babe as yet, but the woman could test the vows of a saint.”
“Are you blaming her for your actions?” Kit asked with a laugh.
Hen accepted his drink from War. “I wouldn’t call it blame so much as acknowledgement. God put her on this Earth to test me, and designed me in such a way that I would fail.”
War snorted a laugh. “And exactly how much have you failed?”
“In every possible way but one, thus why there is no need to worry about a babe. Yet.”
“Does she know what she’s asking for with you?” War prodded. “A man who beds four whores in a single night is hardly likely to be satisfied with one noble woman.”
Hen locked his gaze with his taller friend’s. “Are you questioning my ability to be loyal to my wife?”
War raised a brow at him. “You already refer to her as wife?”
“That is what your question infers, that if I marry her that I will stray from her, and I’m asking you why you think that.”
Kit stepped between them. “Hen, you know War is always trying to find the worst in people, in situations.” War snorted behind Kit and turned to sit on one of the low leather settees. Kit continued, “No one who knows you would question your loyalty.”
“It’s your ball, Kit,” Hen said. He leaned against the wall and sipped his drink while Kit took a turn at play. He knew War was studying him with that sharp-eyed gaze of his. Should Henny worry about loyalty to his wife? It wasn’t something he’d thought about much before. Of course one was loyal to one’s wife, that was just how it was done. Well, truthfully enough he’d seen a number of times when that wasn’t what people did, but he hardly respected their actions.