Authors: Anabelle Bryant
The visitor approached and clasped her hands within her own, words tumbling out faster than Penny could follow.
“You must be Penelope. My mother wrote me about your visit with your sister. I’m so happy to meet you. I’m Julia Betcham.”
The vivacious greeting proved a little overwhelming and as Julia linked her arm, Aubry entered the foyer anxious to investigate the noise and commotion. Introductions followed and the three ladies advanced to the parlor where Jenkins assured refreshments would arrive with haste. They fell into friendly conversation and tea was served as Julia turned to Aubry, a mischievous smile on her lips.
“Is it true my mother hired Monsieur André to teach you French? He’s a terribly strict taskmaster. Phineas and I never made him proud as we struggled through the language.”
Julia appeared as affable as her brother and Penny warmed with the sudden thought if everything resolved neatly, she would gain not just a new friendship, but a sister of the heart in kind to Lady Fenhurst’s relationship with Dorothy Livingston.
Aubry’s implicit smirk answered Julia’s question. With a little breath she launched into a few stilted sentences to showcase what she had learned so far.
“
Bonjour, Mademoiselle Julia, chère amie
.”
Julia’s giggle escaped, but she tried to stifle the rest of her laughter. “Oh no, you didn’t mean that.” She leaned over and grasped Aubry’s hand in an encouraging squeeze, her sunny disposition contagious. “What did you want to say?”
“Oh dear, I meant to express we would be great friends. It’s the same phrase your brother uses when speaking to my sister. I have it right, do I not?”
Aubry glanced in her direction and Penny nodded in affirmation, an impish smile revealed as she tried to explain. “Aubry and I thought it implied friendship. I do consider your brother a good friend.”
A glint of delight sparkled in Julia’s eyes. “My, now this
is
interesting. My brother may consider you more than a friend. I daresay Phineas would never use the words
chère amie
lightly. Are you sure it’s what he called you?”
There was no denying Julia’s hopeful smile, but there was also no mistaking his words. Phineas used the phrase more than once whenever they’d shared a tender moment. Penelope remembered each occurrence as if engraved upon her heart.
“Yes, I’m certain, and now more than curious. If the term doesn’t mean dear friend, please tell us the translation.” She placed her hand atop her sister’s where it rested on the chaise. Could she dare dream it a term of endearment? A whisper of true affection?
“
Chère amie
does imply friendship, but the most intimate kind. It means cherished loved one. A man would never use the term lightly, most especially my brother. If Phineas confessed emotion, I know he’s smitten. He’s never told a falsehood in his life. The words could only come straight from his heart.” She paused, her smile lessening the smallest bit before she continued. “Well, I couldn’t be happier. Of course, that is, as long as you feel the same.”
Penelope’s eyes flared at the path of the conversation, but then with opportune timing the Countess rushed into the room. A flurry of disorder followed. Ecstatic her daughter had arrived, Lady Fenhurst could not ask questions quickly enough nor wait for the answers.
“You look wonderful. Brighton has proven the answer for your melancholy.” She hugged Julia for the third time. “You received your brother’s letter? He explained everything to you?”
Julia’s easy smile faltered and Penelope realized mother and daughter wished for time alone. She nabbed Aubry’s hand and they excused themselves, hurrying upstairs to discuss their new friend and more to the point, the interesting French words c
hère amie
.
Much to Penelope’s disappointment, Phineas did not return for dinner and sent word he’d been detained. They may have shared a bevy of delightful kisses that morning, but she yearned to see him again. Dinner conversation was lively though and all four ladies found a great deal of laughter when, in the middle of the dessert course, Mon Ami fluttered to the table and perched on Lady Fenhurst’s high-backed dining chair, scaring the Countess out of her wits with a squawk of the highest decibel. Everyone was startled, and Penny secretly wished Phineas could have enjoyed the scene. It was the first time she ever heard Lady Fenhurst refer to the parrot in less than flattering terms, French or no French. Jenkins managed to lure the bird into its cage using a seedcake to gain his interest. Then the cage door was wired shut now that Mon Ami had learned a new trick.
Later when everyone dispersed for the evening, Penelope meandered through the townhouse, unsettled and curious about Phin’s prolonged absence. She couldn’t keep him from her thoughts for more than two minutes, didn’t he miss her even a smidgeon? With a furtive glance over her shoulder to spy servants in sight, she climbed the backstairs full knowing it was wrong to walk past his bedchamber door, yet she couldn’t seem to help herself.
“Penny, what are you doing up here?”
Good heavens, she forgot Julia shared the floor. She whipped around and tripped over her words to form a suitable excuse. “Oh my, I must have been daydreaming. I walked right past my door…”
Julia’s brow furrowed in confusion as she stepped from her bedchamber.
“And up the stairs, and into this hallway…” Penelope backed away, her slippers catching on the plush hall runner. “Silly me. I need to get my head out of the clouds.”
Julia smiled, a large knowing smile, but Penny wasted no more time and turned so abruptly her skirts curled around her legs as she dashed down the hall.
She was out of breath when she neared her bedchamber, but before she could calm, an arm shot from the shadows, catching her around the waist and reeling her in.
“Aah, there you are,” Phineas murmured, as though he’d found her by accident.
She was pulled flush against him and dragged back into the shadows with lightning finesse. The anticipation that built during the day, her hope to see him, to kiss him again, burst like a firework once lit. His arm tightened around her waist when she made no reply, but truly, she needed a minute to digest the wonderful sensations flooding every point of her body.
“Phineas.” Her hushed whisper was further muffled against the cloth of his cravat. He loosened his hold, but the heat of his body remained. “You missed dinner.”
“I missed you.” He nibbled at her neck, his hot mouth finding an especially sensitive area. “And I’m starved. You have no idea.”
She grinned, her heart full.
“What are you smiling about?” His words vibrated against her throat, the tantalizing sensation humming over her skin as his lips continued to explore.
Somehow his hands moved to her ribcage and were making steady progress upward. She needed to stop him, after all they were in the hallway and anyone might happen upon them.
“Aubry is in the drawing room reading French to my mother.”
He read her thoughts effectively then his thumbs passed over her nipples, now pebbled and tight against her bodice, and she bit her lip to force back a moan of pleasure.
“No wonder that bottom lip is so delectable. You’re always mistreating it. Here, let me see.” He captured her mouth in a ravenous kiss, nothing at all like the pleasant ones from earlier in the day.
There was no mistaking the intention of this kiss.
She melted against him and answered his invitation, her hands sliding up his arms, delighting in the taut flex of muscle beneath her touch, the cloth of his waistcoat pulled tight. She loved the feel of him, reveled in his masculinity, the sheer physicality of his body, so elegant one often forgot his exceptional strength.
She kissed him back with all the yearning she’d hidden, all the emotion she’d buried, as their hot breath mingled in want, and his hands spanned her waist to hold her in place. Pleasure burned through her with each stroke of his tongue, beginning at her mouth and pooling in her core. She moved her legs against his in a restless motion and he thrust his thigh to part her skirts, allowing her to slide closer still. His hands dragged over her gown, the silk rustling and smoothing, the sound as enticing as the power of his hold and the unrelenting hunger of his mouth.
Caught in a sea of emotion, she stroked her hand down his arm, beneath his coat and across the flat of his stomach, then lower, to settle her palm on his taut length. He gasped against her mouth, his breathing harsh and broken, and she paused, unsure of her actions until he murmured something, his mouth again making magic and she could not stop, her heart racing. She fumbled with the buttons, his trousers pulled tight, but with the slightest adjustment she managed to open the front placket. Her hand slid inside and down his hard shaft. Her touch cool, his skin burned and throbbed as she wrapped her fingers around him, unwilling to listen to any vestige of sensibility, surrendering to emotion, all weakness and strength.
He broke their kiss and his cheek dragged across the line of her jaw before he stopped, his mouth pressed against her ear. “Penelope.” His voice was thick, each syllable a pant of ragged breathing. His arms tightened, locking her to him in a powerful embrace.
She did not want the moment to end.
Ever.
She turned to him, his eyes smoldered with passion, and she matched his brilliant amber gaze, unwilling to allow him to stop her. Fearing what he would say if given the chance, she grasped his chin and brought his mouth down to hers, while her other hand, the one that promised pleasure, wrapped tighter around his shaft, gliding down the silky hot skin and smoothly rising to begin again. He deepened the kiss and groaned into her mouth, the sound echoing to her soul as his tongue offered her unfathomable pleasure with every caress.
He felt so large, so hard and powerful, but she soon realized it was she who held the power. She, who caused him to shudder when her fingers neared the tip of his shaft. And she, who evoked the sensual groan deep in his chest as she smoothed her palm downward. She wanted to kiss him the way he had kissed her on the tabletop the night before, but they couldn’t stay here in the hallway, their minds awash with endless sensation.
She withdrew and his hands came up to cradle her face, his maddening kisses holding her in place as much as his fingers and it was good of him to offer support because his magnificent spine-tingling kisses made her world spin right off its axis.
But they couldn’t continue, could they? Right there in the hallway, when anyone could stumble upon them cloaked in the corner’s shadowy darkness. She loosened her hold, only to convince him to follow her into her bedchamber, but it was too late.
“Wait.”
His voice, velvet over steel, stopped everything, all thought and motion, and he pushed away gently with a groan of pleasure, one arm bracketed against the wall, his shirt tail concealing his completion.
The next few minutes were dedicated to reassembling their clothing and regaining their breath. Penelope searched for the right words. She never shared an intimate act, any intimate act, before Phineas and she refused to have it riddled with ambiguity and insecurity. Had she pleased him? The inkling of a question began to take hold and she looked into his handsome face seeking reassurance. He pulled her close, the situation well under control, and pressed his lips to her forehead as he whispered against her skin and erased any doubt. “I must endeavor to miss dinner more often. Sleep well, my delicious minx.”
Early morning sun slanted across the steps as Phineas inserted his key in the lock on Kent Street. It was beyond routine to visit during the daylight hours, but he needed to make a break, wish his best to Mary and Benjamin and then move on, now that he’d found his rightful place in the world beside Penelope. He’d stopped first at the cemetery for one final visit. Time had lessened the sorrow, but not erased the deed. Still he was primed to release the strong hold past events held on his future. Nothing is as burdensome as a secret, a realization elicited by Penny’s situation more than his own intuition.
With a twist of the knob, he entered the hall, quiet and dim, and a whisper of clues indicated things were not as they should be. Two boxes piled high with personal items sat near the foot of the doorframe. Pictures had been removed from the wall. He called a greeting and awaited a familiar female reply or child’s ecstatic laughter, but neither met his ears. Prompted into action, he moved to the back of the house.
“Leave here at once.”
Startled, yet emotionally prepared for the confrontation, Phin held up his palm, not wishing to exacerbate the situation. “I’ve come to say goodbye. It appears I’m just in time. Are you leaving London? I saw the boxes.” He motioned toward the cartons littering the floor.
“What we do and where we go is none of your concern. You killed my son and stole my future. You’ve done enough.” Resentment flashed across the man’s face, transforming to vehement hostility just as quickly. “Now get out.”
“I understand.” Phineas searched for the needed words. “There was no way to know boxing would cause Jonathan’s death.” Regret seared his throat. “He didn’t complain after we sparred. I had no idea he was in pain.”
“Your excuses matter little. He came home that evening, went to bed and never woke up.” His scornful accusations sliced through the silent room. “Had you not rattled his brain he’d still be here to take care of his wife and son.”
A voice near the back door drew their attention. “Phineas.” Mary’s look of surprise faded into stricken alarm as she eyed her father-in-law. “Please leave us. Benjamin is waiting for you in the yard.” She aimed a pointed stare at the older man and after an unbearable pause he left, not sparing a glance back.
“He’s still very angry.” She wrung her hands as if choosing her words with care. “He can’t accept Jonathan experienced difficulties long before he decided to visit the boxing saloon. My husband hid it well. Had the doctor not informed us of the appointments after Jonathan passed, we would never have known. But my husband didn’t wish to burden his family, so you’ve taken the brunt of that secret.” She offered a tremulous smile. “It serves no purpose to repeat it.”