Loving a Fearless Duchess: A Historical Regency Romance Book(28)

He scoffed. That was ridiculous. They were together two days ago. He put down his teacup and smiled at her while she told an amusing story about Lady Bronson’s dog running wild at Rotten Row. The gentlemen who had come to her rescue looked foolish running after the thing.

He gave her a soft laugh for her efforts. God, he loved to be around her. Her presence washed over him like the warm breeze he felt during his visit to Sicily.

Nash turned to Edward. “May I escort your sister to the Dunham’s musical this evening?”

Edward turned to Penelope, who gave him a look like, ‘do you have to even think about it?’ And he turned back to Nash.

“My sister seems to want to spend time with you, Nash. No accounting for taste. She may accompany you.”

“Thank you, Edward. When you begin courting a young lady, I’ll be sure to weigh in on her questionable taste.”

Cecilia laughed. “You two act like you went to university together, and instead, you’ve only known each other a short time.”

Henry had been watching at the door. “How touching. Edward, are you sure you don’t want to court Nash?”

Nash turned in his chair to face Henry. “Jealous?”

Henry walked in and sat next to Penelope. She moved away from him on the settee. While he picked up and put down at least three teacakes, he said, “No doubt you are all going to the musical this evening. I’m sure it will be bone-crushingly boring. Is Patrice Dunham still trying to master the harp?”

Edward stood next to the settee and spoke to him, looking down. “Then we won’t have the pleasure of your company this evening. I’m sure we will make the best of it without you, Henry.”

Henry looked up. “No need. I will be there listening to every harp note Patrice manages to pluck. I love a good comedy. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Nash hoped Henry would leave tea once he made his pronouncement, but he didn’t. He hung on until the bitter end. Nash reluctantly left, having not talked with the Balfours more than five minutes alone.

Edward and Penelope soon left, leaving Cecilia and Henry alone. She tilted her head and summoned her most conversational tone.

“Tell me, Henry. Why do you want to break up Nash and Penelope?”

Henry stood and walked to the window. He turned, “I don’t want that man as part of my family. We disagree about almost everything. I don’t want the remainder of my life to be a tug of war.”

Cecilia nodded. She didn’t think that was the real reason, but he had rehearsed a good answer to her question.

“Do you really think you would see him that often if he were married to Penelope?”

“Often enough. It will be no pleasure serving in the House of Lords with him.

Henry had the decency to give his aunt a bow then left the parlour.

***

Nash came calling for Penelope at half past eight. The only thing he found exciting about his evening ahead was having Penelope to himself in his carriage. Since the evening at Vauxhall, he could think of little else.

Nash waited in the foyer for Penelope to come down the stairs. She was so beautiful, in a dark red watered silk gown with rubies around her neck. Cecilia’s no doubt. The curve of her neck was accentuated by the rubies. He would love to kiss the shell of her ear down the side of that neck to her clavicle then –

“Good evening, Nash,” Cecilia said, coming out of the parlour. She too was dressed for the evening at the Dunham’s. She curtsied.

He bowed, “Lady Balfour,” then turned. Penelope was curtsying. He bowed.

“Lady Penelope, you look exceptionally beautiful this evening.”

Penelope went and let the butler put her wrap around her shoulders.

“I expect we’ll see you shortly at the Dunham’s?”

Cecilia beamed at him, “Edward and I will be right behind you.” She curtsied, he bowed, and Nash and Penelope left.

In the carriage, Nash knocked on the roof signalling the carriage to go. After a small lurch, Nash and Penelope could hear the metal wheels of the carriage hit against the cobblestones.

Nash moved across the coach to sit next to Penelope. He looked into her eyes and took one of her hands. “I thought we might kiss so I can think of what is going on around me at the musical. If you don’t let me kiss you, it will be all I think about throughout the evening.”

Penelope was amused by the pathetic look of pleading she saw in his eyes. “Well, we can’t have that, can we?”

Nash moved in. He knew he had to take the initiative with her, and he was happy to do it. Her lips felt wet and warm. They felt welcoming. He encouraged her to open her mouth by dragging his tongue along the seam of her lips.

She opened, and he invaded, hearing her tiny groan. Penelope must be enjoying herself, too. That added fuel to the burn in his heart and his groin. He should stop. He needed to compose himself before exiting the carriage. She would need it to. Except he couldn’t stop.

The carriage jumped, likely from a stone out of place on the street. Nash and Penelope came apart. Nash kissed the palm of the hand he had been holding then moved back to the bench across from Penelope. He watched her straighten her hair and touch her index finger to her swollen lips. She looked up, and he smiled at her.

The musical was about as boring as predicted. He had told Penelope he needed a kiss before going in, or he wouldn’t think of anything but her kiss on the way home, but the strategy didn’t work. They kissed, and still he thought of nothing but her.