Time After Time (134 page)

She gave her maid a bright smile. “In future, perhaps we can give Lucas a better reason to stay in than to go out.”

Bess’s hands stilled. “What do you mean, my lady?”

Her smile widened to a grin. She was going to give him exactly what he wanted. She was going to engage him in a battle of wills he could not win. It was time Penelope became the wicked nymph Lucas claimed her to be and weave a spell around her target. If he’d felt the need for a strategic retreat when she hadn’t even been trying, he would stand no chance after she was done with him.

“Tomorrow, we are going shopping,” she declared.

If a woman was going to wage a battle of epic proportions to bring a man to his knees, she was going to need the right clothes.

Chapter Nineteen

A week later, she was no longer so certain of victory. She stared at the overturned phaeton in mute misery as Blakewood and Olivia ran over to her side. The afternoon sun glinted on the sleek equipage, making it look both splendid and tragic.

The phaeton was the latest victim in the series of failures she had endured since taking on the challenge of winning Lucas’s heart.

“Penelope! Are you all right?” Olivia asked.

Her co-conspirator was clearly worried. Since she had a limited experience with men, Penelope had sought Mari’s advice during tea one afternoon. Olivia had overheard the conversation and agreed to help. The drive in Hyde Park was Olivia’s idea. She was beginning to think her sister-in-law had suggested it only to spend time with Blakewood.

She looked down at her muddied carriage gown, one she had selected particularly to impress her husband. And it did look impressive — a magnificent creation in a shade of deep emerald trimmed with silver that glistened in the sun and silhouetted her form. Her beautiful gown was ruined, and so were her plans of spending the day with Lucas as chaperones.

“I am fine,” she grumbled as she walked over to a copse of trees where Lucas was soothing the pair of Friesian horses who’d been spooked by the accident.

How was she to win this battle of wills when nothing went according to plan? She approached him with as much dignity as she could muster.

“How are they?” she asked, referring to the horses.

Lucas flicked her an amused glance. “It will take some time for them to calm down enough to be safe to ride again.”

“The phaeton is drawing a crowd, but I don’t think there’s any major damage because of the accident.”

Lucas smiled. “Thank God for that. I think you’ve had enough driving lessons for the day, though.”

“You’re not angry?”

He finally gave her his full attention. “No, I am not. Why would you think I would be angry?”

“Because I was the one who convinced you to let me handle the reins.”

Lucas chuckled. “It was your first time handling a team, and a phaeton is trickier to drive than a curricle.” One of the horses jumped and he tugged at its reins, whispering soothing words that the nervous Friesian showed no sign of believing.

“You were doing very well until you decided to make the team gallop — they were going too fast to be able to make that last turn safely,” he proclaimed.

She had also been doing just fine until she decided to take on Lucas. At least he wasn’t angry with her. In fact, he’d been treating her with nothing more than amused indulgence the whole week.

On Monday, he only laughed when the cake she baked for him came out burned to a crisp. On Tuesday, he smiled before calmly beating her at chess. Lucas’s smile was in evidence again on Wednesday, when it rained during the romantic picnic she had arranged for them, and his laughter echoed in the gardens when Nelson stole the scones from her plate. By Thursday, she was in deep despair. She had the disturbing suspicion Lucas knew exactly what she was trying to do, and his amusement was rattling her already frayed nerves.

In fact, he only stopped laughing at her in the evening, when he took her to bed. Their lovemaking had become a sort of challenge, where neither of them backed down as they kissed and caressed each other until they were both mad with wanting and declaring their need in a shattering cadence of groans and sighs. The only time she saw a glimpse of what Lucas felt for her was when they were between the sheets.

She finally noticed his lack of progress with soothing the horses and decided to offer assistance. Lucas moved away from the team to meet her halfway as she walked up to the nervous pair.

“You should probably stay away from them, Penelope. It’s not safe to deal with a frightened horse, and these two have only been in my stables for a couple of days. I do not know them that well,” he warned.

She was not daunted. She might not be capable of driving a phaeton, or making her husband fall in love, but she knew how to deal with horses.

• • •

Lucas hesitated, debating the wisdom of letting Penelope near his team, wondering if this was another one of her tricks. He’d known what she was about with her sweet attempts to “woo” him this week, for she had been anything but subtle about it.

He’d wanted to lecture her regarding the folly of her plan, but truth be told, after she’d burned the cake on Monday, he had been more than curious to see what she would try next, and he’d looked forward to their encounters more than he cared to admit.

He frowned. If Penelope knew how effective she has been so far, she wouldn’t stop until she had him begging her not to leave him if she ever found out his reason for marrying her. Already she was driving him to unparalleled heights of desire as he tried every night to please her until she shuddered beneath him and swore her love for him.

He stiffened. His wife was trying to break him. He knew he was playing a dangerous game, but he couldn’t help himself. Even so, this was different. Penelope could easily get hurt if she went near the nervous animals.

Before he could refuse her request, however, she reached the horses, touching first one and then the other — at one point she reached up and pinched the horses’ upper lips. She never grabbed the reins to steady the pair.

He could only watch, enthralled, while his wife soothed the Friesians with her touch, never uttering a single word. For no words seemed necessary between her and his animals. She was in her element here.

“How did she do that?” Olivia asked from behind him as they watched the horses follow Penelope as if in a trance to the phaeton, which Blakewood and some onlookers had righted.

He shook his head. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Penelope has been working with animals her whole life, so she must have learned a thing or two about charming horses.” Not only horses, judging by several of the
ton
’s open admiration of the spectacle that was his wife as she sauntered back toward him.

“Penelope, that was amazing!” Olivia said. “You must teach me how you did that.”

“Of course,” she readily promised. “But all I did was reassure them everything was under control.”

“That was amazing,” Olivia repeated to herself as she watched Penelope return to the phaeton to make sure the horses were still fine.

“You approve of your new sister-in-law, then?” he asked quietly.

His sister turned to him before replying, “I really do.” She gave him a cheeky grin before adding, “She must truly love you, because I actually still have trouble believing she agreed to have you.”

“You impertinent chit,” he chided good naturedly. “Am I such a bad catch, then?

Olivia rolled her eyes. “Let me put it this way, if you’d come to
me
and said you had to marry me to save the Ravenstone estates because you couldn’t circumvent Father’s will, I’d have told you to go to the devil.”

His gaze shot back to his wife and his heart stopped when he realized she’d made her way back to them, close enough to hear the remark. Penelope’s face paled, and her lips parted. If he needed any more indication of the disaster that was about to occur, Penelope’s look of betrayal more than sufficed. Damn it, why hadn’t he warned Olivia that Penelope knew nothing of their father’s will? The words that tumbled so casually from his sister’s lips had the decimating effect of a violent explosion, and the victim stood frozen in shock for several minutes.

He couldn’t believe this was happening. The stupid words pounded in his ears, and a lump formed in his throat as he helplessly watched Penelope’s eyes narrow with accusation, then she seemed to recover her composure and she gave an overly bright smile before turning to his young, foolish sister and said in a hollow voice, “I’m glad I was able to help.”

“You’re always helpful to others, Penelope,” Olivia declared, blithely unaware of the tense undercurrents flowing between the other people in the conversation. “I must go and see if Lord Blakewood needs any help.” Olivia gave Penelope an impulsive hug, apparently not caring that Penelope’s gown was spattered with mud. “Thank you for convincing my big ox of a brother to give Lord Blakewood a chance. I would never have been able to talk him into doing that.” She gave a conspiratorial grin. “We girls must stick together, right?”

“Right,” Penelope answered in a barely audible whisper, her gaze never leaving Lucas’s face as Olivia walked away.

The lump in his throat choked any reply he could have made. He returned Penelope’s pained gaze steadily, willing her to let him explain. And just as silently, her gaze told him that no explanation was necessary.

God dammit!
Never in his worst imaginings did he consider that his own sister would cause his downfall. He wanted to hold Penelope and tell her he was sorry, that he had never meant to hurt her. He wanted to tell her it wasn’t his fault she had seen something in him that simply wasn’t there, hadn’t been there for a very long time.

Most of all, he wanted to hear her say she still loved him — the real him — despite her disillusionment. And when Lucas realized the implausibility of his wish, the dark specters from the past took over what remained of his soul.

• • •

Reality is what we make of it.

The words she’d uttered the night Lucas had conspired to make her marry him revolved in her head as she stared at herself in the mirror, perched on the same chair she had sat on a week ago, conspiring to fight for her husband’s affections.

“Reality is what we make of it,” she whispered to the woman in the mirror.

Her own reflection stared back as she considered how words that had once seemed so intelligent and philosophical mocked her now. She’d made an entire reality out of her foolish assumptions and vanity, believing despite all the evidence to the contrary that one day she could make Lucas acknowledge his love for her.

In the silence of the evening, Penelope was forced to face the folly of her actions. It was no wonder it had been so easy for Lucas to refuse to admit he loved her. No wonder he’d never claimed to feel anything for her but physical desire. There had been nothing else for him to admit to. And the worst part of it was she couldn’t even blame him for it, no matter how much she wanted to. Because even though his duty to the Ravenstone estates compelled him to withhold the reason for his reappearance into her life, he’d been honest about everything else.

There had been no reason for Lucas to lie, for she had been more than willing to lie to herself.

He never ran away from the dictates of honor and responsibility. He always did what needed to be done, even if fulfilling his duties came with an overfilled piece of baggage like her. She had just been too caught up in her fantasy to notice what should have been obvious. She understood his reasons perfectly. Unfortunately, understanding something did not make it any less painful or humiliating. A choked, hysterical laugh escaped her as she considered the mess she’d made of their lives because of her foolish dreams.

“You just had to do it, didn’t you?” she accused the lady in the mirror. “You just couldn’t help yourself.”

She’d thought because she had nothing that was of use to him, there must have been some deeper reason that made him decide to make her his wife. And she had been right — Penelope had been more useful to him than she could have ever imagined, for her dowry had been nothing less than almost the entirety of the Ravenstone estates.

The flickering flame from the beeswax candle on the vanity wavered before her eyes as she fought back tears.

“Idiot,” she whispered. She’d lived through the lonely years of her childhood clinging to the fantasy of him, and she’d proceeded to trap both of them in the fantasy by marrying him. She cringed at the thought of how uncomfortable she must have made him every time she blurted out how much she loved him. She couldn’t blame him for that either, because even then, he had been nothing but a gentleman about it. God help her, she almost felt sorry for him.

And the sad fact was she couldn’t leave this marriage any more than she could change his feelings for her.

She watched a small, pain-filled smile twist her too plump mouth as she finally accepted the truth, all the things she was, and all the things she would never be. She was no nymph. She was just plain, old Penelope, destined to wait for a man who, laden with duties, may or may not ever come. Because she was not enough for him. Had he ever really desired her or had he only done his duty to sire an heir?

Bile rose up in her throat. No, she shouldn’t dwell on that. She simply would not be able to bear it if she went down that path. Instead, she grabbed her hairbrush and tossed it at the mirror, releasing the anguish starting to twist her insides mercilessly now. Anger rushed in to take its place. She was through waiting for him. Her foolish fantasy had done enough damage to their lives. It had to stop now. She could not do anything about the validity of their marriage, but she would do something about another aspect of it.

She started when she heard Lucas dismiss his valet in his own bedchamber. She strode to the door that connected their rooms and leaned her head against it, praying for courage. Then she drew a deep breath and opened the door.

Chapter Twenty

Lucas prowled his bedchamber like a caged, predatory beast, alternately hoping Penelope would show up as she had done every night since their wedding, and berating himself for the weakness that made him yearn to yank the connecting door and demand she come to him.