Chapter 8 #2
He always assured the group it was a difficult life, but to Penny it sounded no more difficult than the lives some people lived on land.
She had seen glimpses of grinding poverty in London and Birmingham and found it difficult to imagine how life aboard ship, where one at least had a meal and a hammock, could be worse.
Even the risk of death did not seem much larger, when one thought about it.
As she and Hugo ate and conversed and shared a whipped syllabub, Mrs. Robson returned with more tankards of ale and cider until Penny felt a little dizzy. Had she drunk three, or four?
With a pensive sigh, Hugo picked up his freshly refilled tankard. “Penny… we must decide what to tell people when we return to Gaitskill Castle.”
“Oh, there’s no need to worry. I’m not returning.”
Hugo choked on his ale and wheezed. Penny eyed him in alarm as he turned a rather unflattering shade of puce until he got his throat cleared.
“What do you mean? What do you mean you’re not returning?” His voice was still a little restricted, and he turned away to cough.
She reached out and selected a blanched almond from the dish in front of her with feigned nonchalance.
“Just as I said. I shall continue on to Bath and stay with my Aunt Nelson and her companion. No one would marry me after this escapade. No one respectable, at any rate. I’m best off becoming a rich, eccentric spinster with a houseful of cats. ”
“Cats?”
“Yes, cats. I’m not overfond of dogs. My aunt’s lapdog nipped me once while we were visiting, and I’ve never liked them since.”
Hugo blinked and shook his head. “But you can’t go unmarried, Penny.”
“Of course I can. This is the modern world. Kendal can’t drag me to the altar and force me to marry him.
Not that he would want to, anyway.” Penny began to suspect she might be a little drunk, with the way she was rambling on, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself.
“I think he’s in love with Pippa. And I know she’s in love with him. I heard them talking.”
She put her half-empty tankard down with a thump, her stomach suddenly roiling, and he put a comforting hand over hers. “I’m sorry, Penny.”
“It’s all right. It’s for the best.” She looked up into his warm brown eyes and gave him a brave smile.
“Can you imagine the tangle we would be in right now if I had married Kendal knowing my sister was in love with him? And that he was at least halfway in love with her? It would have been a disaster. My injured pride is nothing to knowing we avoided that.”
Hugo was silent for a long time. “I had no idea you knew. I suspected something, but…”
“I think we all suspected something after seeing them together in the drawing room.” She picked her mug back up and took another deep draught. “But I was the only one who could call a halt. So I did.”
Abruptly, she stood up from the table. She didn’t want to think about why she was here, or the stab of hurt that came every time she realized Pippa had been lying to her for nearly two years.
Was all of her sister’s care during her illness only because of guilt?
Had Pippa resented her for years and Penny had never seen it?
The room rocked a bit under her feet as the patrons turned to look at her.
“I must return to our room,” she said decisively.
“Let me help you.”
“No, no. Enjoy your ale.” She took two steps, swaying, and halted, one hand to her forehead. “Oh, dear.”
Hugo’s arm went around her waist and she leaned against him, her own arms slipping around him.
His chest was warm and firm, and she could hear his heartbeat accelerate under the ear she pressed to his chest. His other arm went around her, supporting her, surrounding her with warmth and strength, and she snuggled in.
“Oh, that’s lovely. We should do this more often. ”
Whistles and cheers filled the taproom, and she raised her head to smile and wave.
“Oh, good God,” Hugo muttered and pulled her away whilst she blew kisses to the patrons, laughing all the way through the door as Hugo closed it with a thud.
Hugo was furious. He half-carried Penny up the stairs to their room while she continued to giggle to herself. She was warm and pliant, following his every movement. The lemon scent of the soap she had used to wash before dinner teased at his nose as they climbed yet another set of stairs.
How could she get drunk in a public taproom?
And how could he let himself miss the signs?
He had allowed himself to become too enthralled with looking at her, listening to her, letting himself enjoy being with her.
He wanted to save the memories up for when he would have to take up his new command, leaving her behind.
Possibly forever.
Because even despite her health, it was clearly foolish for Penny to think she could never marry. She was beautiful, charming, and rich. Even with the scandal of throwing Oliver over, she would have men at her feet panting to marry her.
If she did not marry Oliver, she would marry a stranger, and Hugo would never see her again, unless they happened to be at the same ball or musicale during a Season when he happened to be in London.
That, too, was probably for the best.
He steered her up the final staircase and to their room, pulling the key from his pocket as she swayed next to him.
“That was a lovely evening,” she said. He unlocked the door and pushed her inside. With quick, precise motions he closed the door and re-locked it. She flopped onto the bed with a sigh and toed off her half-boots.
His own tenderness surprised him, even though he was exasperated at her naiveté. “You must be more careful, Penny. We were in a room full of strangers. Not everyone is good and kind."
“I know that.” With a sigh, she lay back on the bed, arms stretched above her head and legs dangling off the edge. “But you were there to protect me.”
The words were like a quick blow to his gut.
He could not protect her. Not the way he wanted to.
He had no right, and would never have it.
Even leaving aside the scandal of eloping with his brother’s betrothed, the damned loan would come due immediately.
Oliver—and everyone dependent on him—would lose everything.
Her broken engagement to his brother kept them as far apart as if they were strangers.
She yawned hugely and sat back up. “Unhook my dress so I can prepare for bed, if you please.” She slid her feet to the floor, clinging to the footboard as she swayed to an upright position, and giggled again.
He stood frozen against the door for another long moment as she turned her back to him and looked over her shoulder. “Come.”
Pushing off from the door, he crossed to her and bent to the hooks. His own fingers were clumsy with ale, and she squirmed as he worked at them one by one, her skin silky and warm under his hands until at last the hooks were all undone.
He spread the two halves of her dress apart, gazing at what little he could see of her, wanting to run his hands along her naked shoulders, push the dress down as he kissed the exposed nape of her neck, and then—
She stumbled forward a step, and the spell broke. He turned back towards the door and opened it. “I’ll return in a few minutes.”
“All right,” she said in a puzzled tone as he closed the door behind himself more firmly than he needed to.
He must speak with the innkeeper before the man retired for the night.
Penny finished readying herself for bed, washing up and pulling her nightdress on, when there was a soft tap on the door. She dove for the bed and climbed under the covers, pulling the quilt up to her chin. “Enter.”
Hugo opened the door, holding one end of a dressing screen while the Robsons’ oldest son carried the other.
“Let’s try that corner,” Hugo said, and they carefully positioned it until it screened the spot where the washbasin sat atop the cabinet that concealed the clean chamber pots.
It had to be folded nearly in half on itself, but at last there was a sheltered place in the room where they could each have a sliver of privacy.
Hugo handed the boy a shilling, and he grinned. “Thanks, milord!”
Blushing, the boy nodded to Penny, eyes averted from where she sat up in bed, only her face and hands visible. “Milady.”
As the door closed behind him, Hugo locked it and then stepped behind the screen, a bundle of striped cloth draped across his arm.
It was a peculiar feeling, being able to hear him remove his clothing and do his ablutions, but a cozy one, too.
She felt very domestic, like a farmer’s wife… or a sailor’s.