Time After Time (128 page)

Penelope gave Olivia a conspiratorial grin. “You were telling us about London.”

Aunt Lucy brightened. “Ah, yes. London. It will give you the ague.”

Olivia smiled apologetically. “Aunt Lucy often suffers from illness.”

“I wouldn’t be plagued with so many illnesses if it weren’t for the unhealthy London air! I believe it’s the thick, impenetrable fog that kills. It will give you — ”

“The ague!” they chorused.

Aunt Lucy blinked. “We’ve stopped. We must have arrived. Let me handle my modiste, dear. She is very exclusive, but a more annoying woman I have never met. She talks incessantly … ”

Aunt Lucy kept up her chatter while a footman helped the ladies alight. She led the way through Oxford Street, complaining about the London air.

“Good Lord,” Penelope whispered to Olivia. “Is she always like this?”

“I’m afraid so.” Olivia shot her another apologetic look. “I’m very glad to have someone else to talk to now.”

“I don’t blame you,” she replied.

“Can we visit a bookshop after the modiste’s? I’m almost finished with my book, and I’d like to purchase another.”

“That sounds divine,” she agreed. “I should like to buy books for my stepfamily. My siblings love to read, too.”

“We shall go to Hatchard’s,” Olivia decided. “They have a little of everything in there.”

Penelope noticed how the elegant London shoppers were giving them a wide berth.

“What is wrong with everyone?” she asked Olivia.

Olivia looked around them with a solemn expression. “They recognize Aunt Lucy. Everyone knows she is playing chaperon to Raving Ravenstone’s sister.”

“Don’t ever call yourself that again.”

“Everyone else does,” Olivia sadly pointed out.

“Not everyone,” she insisted when she noticed a familiar face. “I see my friend, Mari, exiting the milliner’s. Let me introduce you to her.”

“But, Aunt Lucy — ”

“Won’t notice if we’re gone for a few seconds,” she assured her sister-in-law. “She is too busy yammering about the dangers of the London air.”

She dragged Olivia with her as they hurried to Mari’s side. After the introductions were made, it was decided that Mari would join them at the modiste’s, as Penelope was not an expert when it came to fashion and she trusted Mari’s opinion.

Once inside, Penelope was thankful for Mari’s presence, for Aunt Lucy had complained of a headache and ensconced herself on a sofa in the shop’s corner. There were fabrics of every imaginable make, colorfully laid out on every available space of the shop, fashion plates suggesting ensembles were artfully arranged in strategic spots, and a very haughty modiste, Madame Claude, suggested styles of which Penelope had never heard. The only thing she couldn’t find in the shop was the sign indicating how much the services were.

“How do I know which ones are costly?” she mumbled.

Mari laughed. “All of them are costly. Don’t look so concerned. Ravenstone will expect his wife to be dressed in the height of fashion.”

“We can probably make these clothes ourselves,” she said, feeling uneasy.

“Don’t even think of it,” Mari warned. “You’re a countess now, Polly. You have to look the part. Enjoy yourself. Here,” Mari pointed at a fashion plate, “this mint evening dress will look lovely on you. I adore the paisley pattern trim. It’s like the one we saw in that magazine.”

“Ah,
mademoiselle
appreciates exquisite design,” Madame Claude approved while she openly scrutinized Penelope’s features. “Lady Ravenstone, you are to make your debut tonight?”

She nodded. “Lady Olivia, too. She is to attend her first ball at the Uffingtons’.”

“If it pleases, I should like to present to you a gown I have designed.” Madame Claude proceeded to whisper, “Your ladyship shall be the only one allowed to see it, for I have been waiting for the right person to wear my creation. The gown has a …
comment dites-vous
— otherworldly quality. If you will follow me?”

She glanced at Mari, who nodded. “I would be honored, Madame Claude.”

“
Non,
the honor is mine, my lady. Please,” Madame Claude gestured to a room hidden from view of the main shop floor by a pair of ruby-colored, velvet drapes. “Come with me to my workshop.”

After the private consultation, Penelope felt prepared for the evening’s festivities. She also insisted that Mari order a gown for herself, an invitation her friend gleefully accepted.

By the end of their shopping expedition, even Olivia was joining them in teasing Aunt Lucy, who enjoyed having an audience and seized the opportunity to complain about the thickening London fog.

• • •

Lucas looked up from documents piled up on his desk when he heard the big commotion out in the hall. Penelope, Olivia and Anthony’s Aunt Lucy must have finally returned from their shopping expedition. Lucas was more than a little curious about the result of Penelope’s idea to spend time with his little sister.

Olivia was a quiet sort, the kind of person who took a while to get comfortable around new people. It would take some time for her to get used to having an older sister like Penelope, who took things in stride and assumed the same unaffected, casual air with everyone, whether they were a footman or an earl.

In the two short days since she first stepped foot in his townhouse, his bride had managed to learn all the servants’ names, and they were bending over backward to do her every bidding. Even Finchley, his very proper butler, could not resist her charming ways.

The minute Penelope learned Finchley used to be a furniture maker’s apprentice, she’d asked if he could make a writing desk for her instead of hiring one of the well-known furniture makers who enjoyed the patronage of the
ton
. She said she planned to put it in the drawing room, where everyone could admire it.

Her thoughtful action had endeared Penelope to his elderly butler, who understood the business opportunity the new mistress had offered and was spending every minute of his free time working on the new Countess of Ravenstone’s
escritoire
.

Lucas opened the study door and smiled in amusement at the sight that greeted him. Penelope, dressed in one of the new pale muslin gowns Aunt Lucy’s modiste had hastily put together, was directing the footmen, who were carrying armloads of parcels upstairs.

His wife scowled at one. “Sammy, you should not be carrying anything until your burned hand has healed. Let me take that from you.”

Finchley stepped in before she could climb up the stairs to the footman. “I’ll take care of it, my lady.”

Penelope gifted the butler with a grateful smile before turning to his sister. “You are going to look beautiful in these, Olivia!” she said with ill-concealed excitement. “I don’t know much about fashion, so we were very lucky we ran into Mari while we were in Oxford Street.”

“The gowns you chose complement your figure, Penelope,” Aunt Lucy stated. “Even through my pounding headache, I could tell they made you look like a fairy princess.”

“Why, thank you, Aunt Lucy. I shall make you some chamomile tea to relieve your headache,” his wife promised. “Then, perhaps, you’ll say I appeared more like a nymph than a fairy princess.”

Aunt Lucy looked thoughtful. “Now that you mention it, Madame Claude’s creations make you look quite ethereal.”

“Lucas says I look like a nymph,” Penelope said proudly. “I never thought I’d say this, but I so enjoyed picking out fabrics, being poked and prodded … ”

Lucas’s wide shoulders shook with laughter as he listened to the rest of the conversation.

“ … and that gentleman we met at the bookshop — I will not be surprised if he pays us a visit soon.”

“He was very nice,” Olivia murmured.

He frowned. “What is this I hear about a gentleman?”

Penelope whirled at the sound of his voice. “Lucas! Olivia and I met this young man at Hatchard’s. I think he said he was Lord Blakewood, and he was kind enough to help Olivia find this book she wanted to read.”

Lucas stilled. “Was he?”

Viscount Blakewood was the son of one of the men whose business practices had led his father into dun territory. Lucas had repaid the old man in kind, and the scandal that ensued had contributed to Society’s labeling him Raving Ravenstone. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what Blakewood’s son was planning by seeking out Lucas’s sister.

He gave Olivia a stern glance. “You are not to talk to Blakewood again, do you hear me?”

Olivia picked at her skirts. “Yes, Lucas.”

He felt Penelope’s disapproving stare. He ignored it. “It looks as if you have many things to do to prepare for the Uffingtons’ party tonight, sister. Why don’t you run along upstairs?”

“Yes, Lucas.” Olivia ran upstairs with Aunt Lucy at her heels.

His wife waited until the girl was out of earshot before giving him her opinion. “What was that all about?”

“I do not know what you are referring to.” He strode back into his study.

She followed him and shut the door with a resounding crash.

“What the devil was that for?”

“I thought it would be more dramatic,” she quipped. “What is your problem with Blakewood?”

“His father and I have an unpleasant history, which resulted in the man’s financial ruin. He ran off to France and spent his last years there, leaving his son to pick up the pieces. It would be best if Olivia stayed away from Blakewood.”

“I see.” She cleared her throat. “I believe your worries are premature. It was nothing more than a friendly chat at a bookshop.”

He sat down behind his desk and picked up the documents he’d been reading before the ladies arrived. “I intend to make sure they have no further interactions.”

She hesitated, casting a cursory glance at the burgundy leather furniture that stood in stark contrast to the green and gold floor-length curtains of his study.

He watched her as she touched a bouillotte lamp before looking around for something else to occupy her hands. His body tightened as he thought about suggesting something he very much wanted her to do with those hands.

Lucas shifted uncomfortably in his seat. It wouldn’t do to spend too much time with his little nymph. He’d done his duty to marry her. He had other responsibilities to think of now. He enjoyed her company, and she was delightful in bed, but he refused to let his desire for her take over his entire life. Already she had gotten under his skin. If he weren’t careful, he’d end up becoming as pathetic as his father.

The ghosts from the past screamed a warning in his mind.

His hand tightened to a fist. “Is there something else you wanted to say, madam? I am very busy.”

Penelope jumped at the sound of his voice — maybe he’d been too curt. He cursed, dismissing the ridiculous worry. It would be better if they didn’t spend so much time together. He didn’t want her to get too attached to him — attachment led to expectations, and expectations inevitably led to disappointment. He didn’t want Penelope to be disappointed in him.

She moistened her lips with her tongue, and for a moment he was riveted by the action.

“Well, Penelope?”

Penelope looked at him speculatively, as if trying to gauge the color of his soul. “It’s only … I don’t think Blakewood means any harm. He was exceedingly nice to Olivia. It was the first time I’d seen her really smile in the time I’ve known her.”

“Olivia is not the smiling sort. And it is my duty to protect her until the time comes for her to marry.”

Penelope took a seat on one of the burgundy leather chairs across his desk. “She is also your sister, and I think you intimidate her. You were rude to her just now.”

“I merely told her to prepare for the Uffingtons’ party tonight.”

“That’s just it,” she muttered. “Did you even ask her how our shopping expedition went?”

“I already heard how it went from your edifying commentary out in the hall.” He didn’t want to talk about his sister any longer. He’d been craving another taste of Penelope all morning, and she was here in his study with the door firmly shut. “I look forward to seeing you in the new gowns you have bought, nymph.”

“Really?”

At the naked hope in her eyes, he found his first smile. “Yes, really.”

He held a beckoning hand out to her. “Now, come over here and show me how grateful you are for those gowns.”

Penelope took his proffered hand, and he tugged her onto his lap. He crushed his mouth to hers, savoring her sweet lips, growling his pleasure when she opened her mouth to welcome the invasion of his seeking tongue.

“I’ve missed you,” she said in a breathy sigh when he finally managed to lift his mouth from hers.

His hand slid beneath her skirts and petticoats to find her bare thigh. She squirmed in reaction. Her rounded bottom came into contact with his erection, and he groaned. She was a natural temptress.

“Show me where you missed me,” he whispered against her ear.

In answer, Penelope took hold of his hand, which had been caressing her thigh, and inched it upward, urging him to cup her heat, showing him exactly. Her uninhibited action tore another groan from Lucas’s chest as he explored her moist, welcoming folds. She was already very hot, very wet for him. He trailed kisses across her collarbone and mentally consigned his worries about spending too much time with his wife to the devil.

He lifted her off his lap and set her on his desk, sweeping the surface clear with his arm. Documents, missives and ledgers went flying across the room.

Penelope looked up at him in confusion. “Lucas?”

He slid her legs apart and stepped in between them. “Just hold on, sweetheart. I’ll take care of everything.”

He quickly worked the fastenings of her gown, loosening the bodice, her stays and chemise to expose her naked breasts to his devouring gaze. Hungry for her, he proceeded to kiss every inch of her exposed flesh, fondling her until her breath came in ragged gasps, mingling with his own labored breathing.

He knelt before her, tasting her womanly core with an urgency and desperation he’d never known, losing himself in the scent of her desire. As soon as she cried out with her climax, Lucas was on his feet, opening the falls of his trousers, unable to wait any longer.