Читать книгу The Historical Collection - Stephanie Laurens - Страница 23

They returned to Bloom Square very late. Or very early, depending on how one looked at it.

For most of the journey, Gabe drifted in and out of sleep. He felt like a coward avoiding conversation, but he hadn’t the faintest idea what to say, and drowsing gave him a chance to gather his memories and fix them in his mind before they could escape.

He recalled the way she’d touched him with such adorable, unashamed curiosity. The plump curves of her bottom filling his hands, and the hug of her cleft astride his cock. The lilting song of her cries as she’d climaxed.

If all that wasn’t torture enough, her pleasure had been embossed on his shirt. Her scent lingered about him even now, warm and intoxicating.

The coachman slowed the horses to a walk as they entered Mayfair, keeping the noise to a minimum. As morning dawned, a drifting fog obscured the streets and wrapped the city in a blanket of hush.

Gabe looked down the alley in both directions before he handed her down from the carriage. As expected, even after a thorough laundering and pressing, her lacy, once blushing-pink frock was a shambles.

“I’ll see you in.”

They entered through the horse stalls—or, in Penny’s case, goat and steer stalls—and naturally, she had to stop to soothe them with loving pats and generous forkfuls of hay and alfalfa. As they moved through the back garden, she paused to scatter corn for the chickens and cast a sorrowful look toward Hubert’s empty washtub.

“Come along.” He drew her arm through his and pulled her toward the house. “Stay any longer out here and someone’s bound to see you.”

“And if they do? We are merely two neighbors having a morning chat in the back garden. How could that be scandalous?”

He exhaled. “Perhaps you’re right.”

“No one pays much attention to me, anyway.”

Normally, Gabe would have paused to lecture her on the unlikelihood of this statement, or the injustice even if it were true. However, today her obscurity might work in their favor.

Maybe, just maybe, they’d gotten away with this.

When he followed Penny up the kitchen stairs to the entrance hall, however, he knew at once he’d been mistaken. They were instantly mobbed.

Her friends had been waiting. All of them. The duchess one, the freckled one, the pregnant one, the scarred duke one, and the aggravatingly charming one.

Five individuals who would defy even the closest observer to find a trait they all held in common. Except, of course, for one important quality: They all cared about Penny.

“Penny, is that you?”

“Thank heaven you’re safe.”

“We’ve been out of our minds with worry.”

“Where the devil have you been?”

“Bixby piddled on the dining room carpet.”

When they’d finished fussing over Penny, they turned to Gabe. Wouldn’t you know, these five disparate people shared a second quality.

They were, every last one of them, furious with him.

The three ladies tugged Penny to one side, subjecting her to a stern, yet loving interrogation.

The two men slammed Gabe against a wall.

“What the hell did you do to her?” Ashbury snarled. His scarred face twisted with anger. “I demand answers.”

“I demand answers, too,” the other one said. Chase, Penny had called him.

“We were taking the otter out to the country. The carriage axle splintered, and we were delayed.”

“Oh, please,” Chase said. “A carriage accident? I’ve devised a great many excuses in my life, and that’s the most hackneyed tale in the book.”

“In the book?” Gabe asked. “There’s no book.”

“Yes, there is,” Chase snapped, defensive. “And if there’s not, I’m writing one.”

“Forget the book.” Ashbury shook him by the lapels, rattling the paintings and sketches mounted on the wall. “I want the truth.”

“It is the truth. The carriage axle broke. We stopped and waited for the smith to come repair it.”

“Then why is her frock a shambles?”

Gabe sighed. “The otter escaped into the river. She insisted on chasing after it. She rushed into the water, tumbled onto the muddy bank, and got tangled in the reeds.”

Chase looked peevish. “Well, that sounds … entirely too plausible, where Penny is concerned.”

“Then I assume we’re done here.” Gabe moved to leave.

“Not so fast.” Ashbury slammed him back against the wall, rattling the artwork again. “What happened to her frock is inconsequential. I want to know where you were all night.”

Across the hall, Penny was relating the same story to her friends.

“We walked to the village, and after that, we—Oh! There you are, darling.” Bixby nosed at her ankles, and she crouched to smother him with love in return.

“After that, what?” Nicola prodded.

“After that, we stopped over at an inn.”

At this, Emma and Alex exchanged concerned looks.

Nicola was not so delicate. “An inn?”

Penny hushed her, not wanting Ash or Chase to hear. “It was that or wait in the carriage. You’re making it sound so terrible.”

“Because it is terrible!”

“It wasn’t. Truly, it was …” Erotic. Wonderful. Confusing. “… perfectly safe.”

“You should have fed him the poisoned biscuits.”

“Nicola,” Alexandra said in a pointed murmur, “Penny says she found the arrangements acceptable.”

“Well, I don’t find them acceptable.” Nicola raised her voice. “How can you be so calm about this? She spent the night with a man, Alex. That man. At an inn.”

“An inn?” Ashbury growled. “You spent the night at an inn?”

“Her Ladyship needed to eat, rest, and stay warm. It was the best option, unless you would prefer me to have returned her home with pneumonia.”

“I suppose there was only one room available. With one bed.” Chase crossed his arms. “That one’s in the book, too.”

“The suite had three rooms.”

“You shared the same suite?” Ashbury gave him another violent shake.

Chase intervened. “Ash, that’s enough. Let the man go.”

With reluctance, the duke released Gabe and fell back a few steps.

“It’s my turn now.” Chase took his place, grasping Gabe by the lapels and slamming him back against the wall.

Jesus Christ. The man was stronger than he looked. This time, one of the framed sketches tumbled to the floor.

“You know,” Gabe said, “Lady Penelope might actually like some of this artwork. Take a bit more care.”

Ash retrieved the small, oval frame from the floor. It held a phenomenally ugly sketch of a cross-eyed, squished-face pug. “This is hideous.”

“Yes,” Chase agreed. “It’s probably her favorite.”

Gabe grabbed the framed sketch from the duke’s hands and rehung it on the nail. “I wasn’t about to leave her unguarded in a strange inn. She needed protection.”

“And we’re to believe she was safe with you?” Ashbury asked, incredulous. “You’re the one she needs protection from.”

Gabe found it difficult to argue with that.

“I don’t understand this,” Chase said. “Penny promised us she’d take a companion.”

Gabe chuckled wryly. “Oh, she did.”

“Penny,” Emma scolded in motherly fashion. “A parrot is not an acceptable companion.”

Penny cast a glance toward the bird in her cage. “Delilah is more effective than you’d suppose. Certainly a better chaperone than Mrs. Robbins would be.”

“Sadly accurate,” Alex said.

“Tell us the truth,” Nicola said. “Did he take advantage of you?”

“No,” Penny said in all honesty. “He didn’t take any liberties.”

To the contrary, he’d given her liberties. The freedom to explore his body. The freedom to express herself. Part of her wished to tell them everything in detail—but she didn’t want to confess it here and now.

“Something happened,” Alex said. “I can see it on your face.”

“What do you mean?” Penny might be a poor liar, but her talent for keeping secrets had been honed over the years. There were things she’d never told a soul.

Nicola’s face fell. “You’re smiling. This is horrible.”

“It’s horrible that I’m smiling?”

Emma took Penny’s hand. “We love you. If there’s anything you wish to say—anything at all—you can trust us.”

“I know.”

Then again, could she trust them entirely? Something Gabriel had said niggled in the back of her mind.

“Be honest,” she said. “Do you find my sandwiches revolting?”

“You called her sandwiches revolting?” Chase went red with anger. “How dare you.”

“I told her the truth. They are revolting.”

“Of course they are.” He jabbed a finger in Gabe’s face. “And that’s expressly why we never tell her so.”

Gabe batted his finger away. “So you lie to her.”

“Better than breaking her heart.”

“Breaking her heart? Good God, man. They’re sandwiches.”

“Those are not mere sandwiches,” Chase said through gritted teeth. “They’re a test. You failed it.”

Ashbury paced the narrow entrance hall, muttering angrily. “If anything happened between the two of you last night, so help me God …”

Gabe pulled his lapels straight. “If anything happened between us last night, it wouldn’t be any of your concern.”

“Unmannerly scut!” Ashbury shouted. “Thou reeky, burly-boned gudgeon.”

Gabe had no idea how to respond to that.

“He curses in Shakespeare,” Chase explained. “It’s annoying, I know. You get used to it.”

Gabe rubbed his face with one hand, weary. He would never get used to this aristocratic brand of madness, and he didn’t intend to. A headache was brewing in his skull, and he’d reached the end of his patience with this cockish, swaggering display.

“Give us your word you didn’t touch her,” Ashbury demanded.

“I don’t answer to you. Neither does she.”

“Penny is our friend.”

“Lady Penelope is a grown woman,” Gabe said forcefully. “If you want to know what she did last night, here’s an idea: Ask her yourself.”

“Ooh! Ooh! Yes! Yes!”

Everyone in the hall went silent. In unison, they swiveled their heads toward the source of the cries: the birdcage. Inside, the parrot gaily bobbed on her perch.

Damn it. Gabe knew where this was going, and it wasn’t anywhere good. At first opportunity, he was going to pluck that feathered menace and roast it for his dinner.

“Pretty girl,” Delilah sang. “Yes! Yes!”

Don’t say it, Gabe willed. Don’t say it.

Delilah trilled for attention, coyly drawing out the suspense. “Fancy a fuck, love?”