Chapter Twenty
Pen hadn’t seen Henry at breakfast, but Kit and War said that he’d been up early with horse training much of the week and was probably exhausted and taking a nap. She wished he’d included her in the training. She was curious to find out more about racing and why he loved it.
It was mid-morning and the servants were setting up a croquet field as the guests chatted. She was standing with the rest of the party on the side lawn, near the conservatory. A servant walked rapidly toward Kit, obviously worried. She saw the man glance in her direction, then quickly back to Kit, who stepped to be between her and the man. Feeling a sense of disquiet, she drifted near.
“He won’t wake up?” Kit asked
“No, I’ve never seen anything like it,” the servant said in an urgent whisper. “And there is a woman in his room who won’t leave.”
Pen didn’t know what was happening, but she did know that it needed to be handled quietly and immediately. She was glad that she’d been at the back of the party as she picked up her skirts to walk quickly around the side of the house, and then ran pell-mell toward the old carriage house. She didn’t know what she would find. Was he ill? Did he have a mistress?
She heard Kit behind her, calling, “Lady Penelope, wait.”
Not in this lifetime or the next.
She flew up the steps of the carriage house and burst through the door to his private rooms. She’d not been here before. The first room was a sort of cozy sitting room. No one was in it, so she moved to the next partially open door.
As she pushed into that room, a woman in the bed gave a theatrical scream and pulled the sheets up over her naked chest. She seemed vaguely familiar, but Pen wasn’t sure why.
“Who are you?” she demanded.
The woman smiled cattily. “Have we not met, Lady Penelope?”
The unusual copper hair and bright aqua eyes seemed like they should be more memorable, but Penelope could not recall a name. Pen looked over at Henry to see if he would speak, but he appeared deeply asleep, pale and unmoving.
Had she misjudged him so entirely? Did he use opium and bring women of ill repute to his parents’ estate? Their house party?
Kit ran into the room. The woman shrieked again, then cried, “Oh! He’s ruined me!”
The falseness of the woman’s tone made Penelope suspicious.
Kit sounded confused as he said, “Lady Smythe?”
Pen recognized the name, if not the woman. Sarah and Ana told her all about the woman’s intention to entrap Henry in marriage. And then, if her new friends were correct, encourage, if not plan, his death. The story had outraged her, but now, seeing the woman here, seeing Henry like this, she was furious.
She crossed to the side of the bed where Henry slept. She dropped to her knees and patted his face. “Henry, can you wake up?”
He made a soft noise deep in his throat but barely moved.
War ran into the room and pulled up short. “Lady Smythe,” he nearly hissed.
The woman’s eyes went wide and a bit wild.
Pen pointed at Kit. “Close the doors, lock them. Make sure no one comes in until we know what happened.” She pointed at War next. “Silence her. And hide her in a closet or something until we’ve sorted this out.”
The woman gave an indignant gasp. “How dare you.”
War strode across the room and secured the woman’s mouth with a cravat that had been on the floor. “I warned you, Lady Smythe. Yet here you are.” She tried to struggle as he hoisted her over his shoulder, but he clearly far outmatched her.
Pen went back to murmuring to Henry, trying to rouse him from what seemed an unnatural slumber.
Kit returned to the room and locked this door for good measure before coming to stand near her. “His mother is outside, asking what’s going on.”
“Tell her that he’s sick and we want to fetch a doctor.”
“Is he sick?” Kit asked
“I fear he’s drugged or poisoned,” Pen answered. “This is very similar to the time my sister took too much laudanum. The doctor had to be summoned.”
Kit nodded and left to do her bidding. War returned, sans Lady Smythe.
“She’s tied up in the water closet,” he said. “I thought I’d let her stew there for a bit without having to look at her face. They tell me it’s not appropriate to strike a lady. She tests me.”
Pen had worried that the fact Henry had close friends would be an impediment. What if they didn’t like her? What if she didn’t like them? At this moment she adored both immensely. They’d not questioned her or argued about her chosen course of action. They’d not questioned her right to be here.
“Drugged?” War asked, crouching down beside his friend’s bed.
Pen continued to stroke Henry’s face. He seemed to want to fight his way back to consciousness, but it was a tremendous struggle. “I think so, yes. Too much laudanum, or something similar. Kit is asking his mama to send for the doctor.”
“If she’s harmed him,” War said in a low, vicious tone, “if he doesn’t recover, no one will ever find that woman’s body.”
“On that we are agreed,” Pen said.
Henry finally blinked his eyes open. He squinted, as though the daylight was too bright.
“Pull the drapes tight, please, Lord Sharpe,” Pen said urgently.
War went to do her bidding and Henry opened his eyes a bit more.
Kit finally returned. “They’ve sent for the doctor,” he said. “How is he?”
“Trying to wake up, I think,” Pen answered.
“Head hurts,” Henry said muzzily.
She was so delighted he made sense that she almost kissed him. “Fetch some water for him?”
She wasn’t sure which of them did it, but shortly she had a pitcher and glass at the side of the bed. She moved to sit on the bed and carefully help him drink. It was another quarter hour before he was able to speak with much clarity. They pieced together that one of the last things he remembered was Mr. McTavish pouring from his flask into Henry’s tea. He had no idea how he’d gotten into his bed, or that a woman had joined him.
Shortly after that, War left with a laundry bundle that contained a furious conspirator. At present Pen didn’t want to know what he planned to do with her, and probably shouldn’t be asked to make a suggestion.
Pen was relieved that Henry was recovering, but furious at this Mr. McTavish and Lady Smythe. Kit fended off anyone who tried to join them or suggest that Pen leave.
After another hour the doctor came and checked Henry over, pronouncing that he would recover well enough after some rest. Sarah settled into Henry’s sitting room to grant the situation a sense of propriety, but Pen didn’t care what they all did. Henry needed her and she wasn’t leaving. The doctor told her that it was fine for him to sleep off the effects of the drug, so Pen watched over him as he slept fitfully. She tried not to focus too much on the fact that he was naked under the bedclothes, but then he turned onto his back again and the sheets slid to his waist. She knew he was strong, but now she saw the muscles hidden under his clothes. The golden hair on his chest was too much of a temptation and she reached out to stroke it, to discover that it was rough and wiry, almost like Euclid’s fur.
He woke and blinked up at her. “Penelope?”
“How do you feel?”
He yawned and said, “Hungry.”
Before she could rise to fetch food for him, he pulled her over him into the bed and rolled half on top of her. She giggled, but then he kissed her deeply.
“I thought you were hungry,” she finally said when he let her breathe again. She was relieved he was feeling better, but worriedly looked him over.
“I will always choose you over food,” he said, smoothing her hair away from her face.
She couldn’t argue his point, as she’d already done the same twice today for him. “Sarah might be willing to get us a tray.”
He pulled back. “Lady Sarah is here?”
“In your sitting room. For the proprieties.”
He blinked and then smiled. “Who will see after the proprieties if she fetches a tray for us?”
Pen ran a finger down his chest. “Perhaps there will be a lapse in the proprieties.”
He laughed and playfully bit at her shoulder, then smoothed his fingers over it. His expression became more grave. “Do you know yet what War did with Lady Smythe?”
“Kit said he took her to the duke’s man of business. She immediately started blaming Mr. McTavish for planning it all, but based on the story that Sarah and Ana told me before, that seems very unlikely.”
He nodded, breaking her gaze and staring at her arm as his fingers drew lazy patterns on her skin there. “I would understand if you didn’t... If you don’t...” He took a deep breath. “If you didn’t wish to marry me because my judgment is so impaired. I don’t always see things about people, important things. I didn’t want to believe my friends the first time they told me that Lady Smythe wasn’t to be trusted.”
“Did you invite her here?”
He met her gaze again, looking appalled. “Gods, no. I didn’t even know where she was. I certainly didn’t know that she had any connection to Mac, er, Mr. McTavish. Another person that apparently I shouldn’t have trusted.” His voice trailed off.
“Lord Henry,” she said smartly, to ensure she had his attention. “It is not a moral failing to believe the best of people, it is their moral failing to disappoint you. If you are saying that you sometimes need assistance recognizing those most likely to disappoint you, I may boast some proficiency at that duty.”
When he smiled at her, she clambered out of the bed. She found Sarah in the sitting room and asked her to arrange for some supper to be brought up.