Penelope and Prince Charming (Nvengaria #1)(93)
He announced, “The Princess Penelope,” and Penelope swept in, agitation in every step.
She was still in her ball gown, its bodice cut to reveal her lovely shoulders and long neck, with a glimpse of her soft breasts. The skirt glided across her hips and legs, drawing attention to her sensuality.
Her face was flushed, her eyes sparkling gold and green, like amber and jade. Diamonds flashed in her hair, a fine net of them draped over a simple braid coiled on the crown of her head. He’d noted other ladies gazing at her coiffure with interest and predicted that “the Penelope” would soon become all the rage.
The rust shade of the gown heightened the color in her face, bringing out the warmth of her eyes. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
Damien slid his cravat from his neck and held the slithering linen folds out to his manservant. “Petri,” he said.
Petri knew exactly what he meant. He caught the neckcloth before it could drop to the floor, took up the coat and sash, and discreetly faded into the next room.
Damien loosened the tapes that held his shirt closed while he indulged himself in gazing at his wife. “Penelope, love,” he said, savoring the words. “What is the matter?”
Penelope opened and closed her hands, took a step forward, then halted, as though not trusting herself to move too near him.
“I want you to teach me, Damien,” she said breathlessly. “I want you to teach me everything a Nvengarian woman would know about … bed things.”
Damien stilled, his heart thumping until his chest hurt. “Are you certain? Nvengarian ladies are raised to be robust. I do not want to hurt you or frighten you.”
Penelope lifted her chin. “If Lady Anastasia of Austria can weather a Nvengarian marriage, then I can. I am of hearty English stock. I want you to have me do—whatever you would ask Lady Anastasia to do.”
Damien grinned suddenly. “Spy on the Austrians?”
Penelope stopped, lips parting. “Pardon?”
Damien drifted toward the huge, much-draperied bed and leaned against a post, hoping Penelope would take the hint and follow him. “Anastasia is more skilled than any exploring officer you will ever meet. She keeps me informed, in detail, of what Prince Metternich of Austria is up to. He likes to cast his eye on Nvengaria, and I do not wish him to. He adores Anastasia and tells her everything. He believes he keeps her spying on me.”
Penelope began to move toward the bed, to Damien’s delight. “And is she? Spying on you, I mean?”
Damien nodded. “Probably. Anastasia blames the Austrian army for her husband’s death. The Nvengarian contingent volunteered to follow them against Napoleon when Metternich entered the war, because we didn’t want Nappy marching his forces in Nvengaria’s direction. Only our mountains stopped Napoleon from flushing us out, but that barrier would not keep him out forever. The Austrians had no compunction about using Nvengarians to decoy the French forces, were not interested in those men’s lives. Anastasia has never forgiven the generals—or the entire Hapsburg Empire for the loss of her husband. She will do anything to work to Austria’s detriment.”
“Oh.” Penelope cleared her throat, the fiery look in her eyes softening. “Egan did tell me you had her working for you—he did not want to speak of it, but I wore him down. I assume that you embraced Lady Anastasia in the hall for the benefit of the servants who walked by.”
So she had seen that. Some of Damien’s anticipation evaporated. He’d thought Penelope safely upstairs where his actions would not hurt her. But clearly she had been hurt and confused. Damn Egan MacDonald for not whisking her out of sight.
“You assume correctly,” Damien said, keeping his voice light.
When he had leaned against the wall, pressing Anastasia to it, she had kept up a snarling diatribe under her breath about the Regent, his servants, his house. The Austrian ambassador was currently trying to interest the Regent in a bite of Nvengaria, although the Regent had exuded confidence that Damien would let him have more in return for a stand against such a thing. Anastasia promised to bring Damien more exact intelligence before he left for home.
“Were you lovers?” Penelope asked. Then she looked horrified and pressed her hand to her mouth. “I am sorry,” she said quickly. “I do not know why I asked that. It is none of my business.”
Damien started to smile, her small spurt of possessiveness pleasing him. Perhaps Penelope’s interest in this marriage went further than martyring herself for Nvengaria.
He held out his hand, inviting her to step into the circle of his arm. “Come here, love.”
Looking embarrassed, Penelope glided across the room until she came to rest beside him. Damien slid his arm around her waist, cupping the curve between her breast and hip.
“It is your business, and I wish you to know,” he said. “I was indeed Anastasia’s lover, but very briefly, years ago. When Dimitri, her husband, was killed, she came to me. I was in France—Nvengaria was never officially at war with France, and I was in exile. I enjoyed staying at Napoleon’s court and watching what the bumptious little man and his hoi polloi family got up to. The English enjoyed my secret reports as well.” Damien remembered the vast pleasure he’d taken playing spy. Frivolous Prince Damien had never once been suspected of sending secrets to King George’s generals.
“Anastasia was grieving,” Damien went on. “I have never seen a woman so devastated by grief. She was ready to destroy all of France for killing her husband and all of Austria for letting it happen. She loved Dimitri more than her own life.” His voice softened. “I tried to comfort her, but she wanted Dimitri, not me. She had so much passion and so much rage. I told her to channel this rage into working for me and Nvengaria. I am forever trying to keep the huge empires and kingdoms from crushing us. She accepted and began at once.” He paused, the niggling irritation he always had when he spoke of Anastasia nipping him. “She does not simply report to me—she gives Alexander information as well, knowing he is a formidable power in Nvengaria. I believe Anastasia does not care who rules—Damien or Alexander—she cares only for punishing Austria and keeping Nvengaria far from its reach.”