The Wedding Affair (10 page)

“Indeed. Miss Blakely was the best of friends. When I arrived at school, she was the only one of the older girls who…” She stopped suddenly and felt her face begin to burn.

She knew he glanced at her, and she caught a glimpse of curiosity in his expression. Or perhaps it was surprise.
As though he believed someone like me would have no feelings.

The curricle rattled up a long drive and made a sweeping turn in a crushed-stone courtyard before drawing up before a wide front door. Penelope had been too absorbed in her own thoughts to pay much attention to the house, and now she was too close to get the full effect—four stories of stone and brick stretched upward only a few feet from her, making her feel no larger than a toy. “It’s as big as a palace,” she whispered.

A groom came running to take the horses. The earl climbed down and stretched up a hand to help Penelope down. Stiff from the long last stage of their drive, she fumbled a little as she started to descend. Her toe slid on the iron footrest, and the earl caught her around the waist and lifted her down.

She felt breathless… weightless… as though he’d shifted her body from one spot to another but left her heart somewhere behind. She’d thought Andrew Carlisle strong when he’d helped her up into the curricle that morning, but now the difference was clear.

Her husband offered his arm, and Penelope laid her hand carefully on his sleeve, took a deep breath, and marched up the stairs and into the enormous entry hall.

The footman who had opened the doors for them looked stunned. “His Grace said the
gentlemen
would be coming.”

The earl frowned. “Please inform the duchess that the Earl and Countess of Townsend have arrived.”

Penelope could not remember him voicing her title before, at least in her hearing. A little flicker of warmth lit deep inside her at the tone of his voice; he seemed to be demanding respect for her. And the way he’d lifted her down had made her feel warm all over. Even the way he’d looked at her—perhaps that look of his hadn’t been condescending after all but compassionate toward a girl who had been seriously out of place at the boarding school where Ivan Weiss had sent her.

Perhaps her instincts had been right, and things were going to be different between them here at Halstead. Once more, hope began to flutter deep inside her.

After the brilliant sunshine outside, Penelope was half-afraid she would stumble. She paused and looked around, waiting for her eyes to grow accustomed to the dimmer light in the entrance. A group of young ladies who were crossing the hall tossed curious glances at her, but they didn’t stop giggling. An old lady with beady dark eyes and the nose of a predatory bird paused at the foot of the stairs as if to study her.

The footman had disappeared, but Penelope hadn’t noticed where he’d gone until a small lady with dark hair laced with silver spilled out into the hallway. “Charles, my dear!” She stretched out both hands to the earl. “Welcome, Countess. Your husband has been like an extra son to me since the days when the boys played together. I thought Simon said he’d asked you to bring Mr. Carlisle as well, Charles. No? Well, it’s a blessing, in a way, if he can’t come.”

The earl said smoothly, “We encountered Lady Daphne and her party on the road, and Andrew is walking the rest of the way with them.”

The duchess’s eyes narrowed. “Indeed. Then we have a problem. Mrs. Greeley reserved the two blue bedrooms—the suite near the top of the main stairs—for you and the countess. But since I wasn’t expecting your wife to arrive until later in the week, I had thought to put Mr. Carlisle in the adjoining bedroom for a few days. We’ll have to sort out where to put everyone instead. Suites are at a premium, I’m afraid.”

“As fond as Andrew is of his horse,” the earl said, “I’m sure he’d be happy in the stables, Your Grace. Or surely you could put all the gentlemen in the east wing, like old times.”

Was that a hopeful note in his voice? Penelope had no idea where the east wing was, but it sounded very far away from the blue suite at the top of the main stairs. So much for her still vague plan to seduce her husband during their visit. If the bedroom arrangements made it even easier for the earl to avoid her here at Halstead than in London, then nothing would change.

“I’ve already filled the east wing,” the duchess said crisply. “The bridesmaids are there. Come and have tea in the drawing room while Mrs. Greeley arranges something.”

The old lady who had been standing quietly at the foot of the stairs raised one hand to rub her beak of a nose. “Don’t be silly, Iris. Townsend and his bride don’t need two bedrooms. After all, they’re
newlyweds
.”

The word seemed to bounce off the marble lining the entrance hall, smacking Penelope in the face. The duchess’s eyes widened in shock. Even the giggling girls fell abruptly silent.

Under her hand, Penelope felt her husband’s arm tense till it felt like iron, and her cheeks began to burn. No matter what the earl said next—no matter how he went about excusing himself from her bedroom—one thing was certain. Penelope knew this was going to be the most humiliating moment of her life.

“I… Please, Your Grace.” Penelope gulped, suddenly afraid to continue.

The duchess made a sharp gesture. “Don’t be foolish, Lucinda. Maids
and
valets coming and going in a single bedroom? It would be more crowded than Bond Street on a busy shopping day. No, the earl and countess must have the blue suite. Mr. Carlisle will content himself with whatever Mrs. Greeley finds. If it’s a room in the village, he can count himself lucky.”

The earl’s muscles relaxed under Penelope’s hand, and he moved with languorous grace to escort her to the drawing room.

But Penelope was still taut as a wire. If the duchess hadn’t interrupted, what would she herself have said? Had she been about to plead with her hostess to spare her embarrassment? Or would she have begged the duchess to force the earl to share her bed?

***

As Olivia walked down the village street, she was perfectly aware of being watched, and she exerted all of her self-control not to burst into a run to get out of the duke’s sight. Still aghast at her own behavior and feeling weak in the knees, she reached the cottage with relief.

The housemaid fluttered out of the tiny parlor, so excited the feather duster was trembling in her hand. “My lady—”

“Maggie, dusting does very little good if you then shake the duster
inside
the house.”

Maggie looked down as if startled to see what she was holding. “Sorry, ma’am. I just can’t hold still. I was doing the marketing when one of the girls from Halstead told me about the toffs coming to stay for the wedding. Think, my lady, of all the hot water they’ll need carried!”

Lugging brass cans full of hot water up several flights of stairs wasn’t a pastime Olivia wanted to put her mind to, but the direction of Maggie’s conversation was clear. “You’re wondering if I’d mind you leaving me to work at Halstead.”

“Yes, ma’am. I don’t want to go away—this is a good place, truly. But Mrs. Greeley needs all the extra help she can get just now. The pay is good because of all the extra people, and there might even be gifts when the guests leave. So if you can do without me…”

Olivia couldn’t refuse the girl such an opportunity when she herself was barely able to afford Maggie’s wages. “Of course. Nurse and I can manage for a while. And you’ll be welcome back whenever you wish to come.”

Maggie beamed. “Thank you, my lady. I’ll make your tea first, while you sit down and rest. It must be hot outside, for you look so warm. You’re all pink in the face.”

If snow had been falling, Olivia thought, she’d still have been pink after her squabble with the duke. “Thank you, Maggie, but you should speak with Mrs. Greeley right away. You wouldn’t want to find out the jobs have already been filled.”

Anxious at the possibility, Maggie took the duster along in her haste to change her apron and be on her way.

Olivia went to the kitchen and put the kettle on the fire. She had plenty to do; with Kate and Maggie both gone, she’d be busier than ever. But first Olivia was going to reward herself with a few free minutes and a precious spoonful of tea leaves.

Though, under the circumstances, the idea of a reward was not exactly appropriate.
Penance
was more like it. What had gotten into her, anyway?

You’d be better off as a mistress
, she had almost said to Kate this morning.
At least then you’d have some bargaining power.

That thought must have still been lurking in the back of Olivia’s mind, or she would never have said what she had to the duke.
If you’re thinking of wooing another mistress anytime soon, Your Grace…

She shook her head ruefully. If she was fortunate, she would not come face to face with him ever again. Surely on Lady Daphne’s wedding day, he’d be too busy to notice her and so easy to pick out of the crowd that it would take no effort at all to stay out of his way.

Her tea was steeping when she heard the knocker fall. She couldn’t think of anyone who would be calling—at least, no one she wanted to receive—so she ignored the summons. She cut two thin slices from the loaf she had baked that morning, added butter to the plate, and poured her tea into a china cup so thin and dainty that it was practically transparent. No heavy, serviceable pottery mug for her today. A solid reminder that she was a lady would not be amiss.

A moment later, she heard a footstep in the passage. No—
multiple
footsteps. One set must be Maggie, ready to leave for Halstead and her interview with Mrs. Greeley. But the other was definitely heavier, masculine…

Olivia sighed. She really could not support a conversation with Sir Jasper today.

She looked up as Maggie appeared, followed by a very tall gentleman who stopped in the doorway between the narrow, dark hall and the kitchen. The little maid, speechless for once, bobbed a curtsey and ducked out the kitchen door.

Olivia almost dropped the teapot. “You can’t call on me here!”

The Duke of Somervale stepped into her kitchen, and suddenly the room felt small and airless. “Surely that’s an odd reaction from a lady who suggested only a few minutes ago that she would like to be my mistress.”

“I didn’t.” Olivia felt herself turning pink. “Well, not exactly. What I said was that I like diamond bracelets.”

“Ah, yes. And you know this because you have so many already and would like to add another to your collection?” His gaze rested on her with an ironic twinkle. “I have called on you to continue the discussion.”

“I was being nonsensical—challenging you like that—and you know it. In any case, I meant a duke can’t call on a lady in her kitchen. It simply isn’t done.”

He dismissed the ridiculous line of argument with a gesture. “Shall we go into your garden, then?”

No
, she thought.
Sir Jasper might see. Anyone might see…

Before Olivia could protest, he plucked a second china cup from the high shelf she had strained to reach. He added the teapot, the plate of bread and butter, and her already cooling cup to the tray she had started to arrange and carried it all outside.

She directed him to a hidden corner where a low hedge of rosebushes sheltered a couple of crude seats some previous tenant had shaped from fallen logs. “What a very intimate spot in which to discuss… diamond bracelets.” The duke set the tray down with a flourish, dusted off the makeshift chairs with a spotless handkerchief, and bowed her into one of them.

He won’t be staying long
, Olivia thought as she watched him take the other, almost—but not quite—concealing his wince. Not only would the caliber of the tea fall far short of what he must be used to at Halstead, but the ambiance was seriously lacking. No, she wouldn’t have to put up with him for more than a few minutes. He surely couldn’t intend to press the subject.

“Only a few minutes ago, you offered me a bargain. Did you mean what you said?”

Olivia took a breath to deny it.
Of course not
, she would say.
I wouldn’t be your mistress for any number of diamond bracelets…

But she couldn’t force herself to utter the words.

In less than a week, Sir Jasper would be back to demand the rest of the money he said she owed. If she couldn’t pay it all in hard cash, he would renew—perhaps even increase—his demands. And though she would never give in to the blackmail he had threatened, a bargain with the Duke of Somervale would be different.

Different? Exactly
how
is it different?
asked an inconvenient little voice in the back of her mind.
A mistress is a mistress!

She took a deep breath. It
was
different, she told herself, in several ways. She might be on the edge of desperation, but this solution was her own idea, and therefore she would be the one in control. Instead of being held to Sir Jasper’s demands, she would be the one to set the terms. Also, she was proposing to enter into an affair, not the sort of enslavement Sir Jasper seemed to have in mind. And this would not be a lengthy arrangement. Even Kate, who admired the duke, had said he was not the sort to be faithful to anyone, and taking a mistress was by definition a fleeting transaction.