Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

“ H ow wonderful you look, Duchess Penelope!” Victoria Crawford said, beaming as she took Penelope’s hands in her own at the bottom of the steps before Walden Towers’ stately main entrance. “My brother has evidently been treating you well since the wedding, and I have seen from the newspapers’ society pages that you have both been enjoying the season’s early offerings.”

“I am very happy here at Walden Towers,” Penelope admitted with only faint qualms at the thought of how her peculiar marital relationship with Maxwell might appear to others. “I am sure I shall be even happier now that you are to join us at home.”

After that one night of uninhibited congress, Maxwell made no further bed-sharing overtures or invitations in the following two days. It was puzzling and frustrating for Penelope at first, but his attitude was not cold or unkind. He had openly explained that he must now focus on the future and his goals for the ducal family, which now included her as well as Victoria.

While accepting the logic of his rationale, Penelope found that she could not help longing for him anyway, often drifting into erotic daydreams as she regarded her handsome husband over the luncheon or dinner table. It did not help that she was sometimes sure she caught him gazing at her with the same physical hunger.

If he wanted her, why did he not just take her? She was his wife, after all, and they were meant to lie together. Still tingling with the memory of their repeated couplings on that single night together, Penelope would have happily let Maxwell have his way with her anywhere and in any manner he wished.

But now, for whatever good reasons, he seemed determined to stick to a path of self-restraint. Penelope did not know how to change his mind or if she should even try.

“I am not spoiling the chance for an extended honeymoon, am I?” Victoria checked, pulling off her bonnet and swinging it carelessly from one wrist as they walked up to the house, unbothered by how this might look to any servants or Penelope. “I should hate to do that. But Maxwell insisted that there was no need to stay away any longer and that I should come back today.”

“Yes, Maxwell insists that he can balance all duties and responsibilities and handle whatever the world might throw at him,” replied Penelope with a short laugh. “He says that there is no need to choose between married life and public life or to shut out his sister or friends only because he now has a wife too. I cannot argue otherwise, given his success in all areas so far.”

“Oh, he’s right of course. Maxwell usually is, and that’s the most infuriating thing about him, Penelope. You might not have learned it yet, but you can always rely on my brother to keep his word and to exercise good judgement. But I do worry that he will make himself unhappy by taking on too much one day. It is not necessary to win every time.”

“But I do enjoy winning so much,” said Maxwell with a broad smile as he met them in the hallway and kissed his sister’s cheek. “Don’t I?”

His eyes briefly met Penelope’s over Victoria’s shoulder, and something connected between them that made Penelope flush and bite her lip while Maxwell’s eyes narrowed with almost tangible lust. He did want her again — she knew it!

“Your ears are far too good, Brother,” Victoria tutted with a joking frown at Maxwell’s greeting as she embraced him. “Out of courtesy to mere mortals, you should find a way to close them. Can I not even make the mildest criticism of your character and habits to your new bride in privacy?”

With visible effort, Maxwell straightened his face and looked back at his sister. Penelope tried to resign herself to the fact that whatever he might feel, he was apparently determined that this should be a morning for business and not pleasure.

“Absolutely not,” he laughed. “Duchess Penelope might believe what you say and return to her family. That would not do at all. I need both of you right here on my arms for the rest of the season.”

Victoria gave a long but good-humored sigh as she now removed her gloves and coat, passing her discarded outdoor clothing to one of the maids.

“So, there is a definite place in your present plans for me, is there, Maxwell? I thought there must be although for a short while after your most recent letter, I let myself believe that you sought only my refreshing company and sparkling wit.”

The young woman cast a good-humored glance toward Penelope, hinting that this was the typical behavior she expected from her older brother. Penelope had wondered how Victoria would react when Maxwell summoned her home to Walden Towers. Some young women would have objected strongly to being used as a pawn in wider games, but that was evidently not the role in which Victoria felt cast.

Penelope herself was not entirely sure of what lay behind Maxwell’s summons. At the luncheon yesterday, they discussed shipping insurance and the appropriate place for noblemen on the reinsurance circuit in London. It was a subject where Penelope knew only what she had read in newspapers and felt little qualified to advise, even if she had been able to follow her husband’s train of thought.

After that, Maxwell retired to his study for an hour and then dispatched an express message to call Victoria home, which resulted in her arrival the next day.

“Sir Nigel Leveson,” said Maxwell now, without any prevarication, as he led the way into the library.

“The astronomer and marine scientist? What of him?” Victoria asked curiously, following behind him with Penelope.

“You know him well, don’t you?”

“In astronomical matters, yes. I collaborated with Sir Nigel and Lord Walmersley on that monograph about the orbit of Venus, if you remember. My contacts at the Italian Astronomical Society provided the English gentlemen with some very useful statistical information.”

What an extraordinary young woman Victoria Crawford was! Penelope could not think of a single other young woman of her acquaintance who could claim or would even want to claim, such an accomplishment as this. Maxwell had told her that his sister was among the most knowledgeable women in the land, and Penelope now guessed that his praise was not solely based on fraternal pride.

“Sir Nigel recently carried out some sterling research on tides and weather conditions in southern English ports,” the duke expanded, waving both ladies into chairs near the window. “The few who have had sight of these writings are highly impressed, and the Royal Navy and Merchant Navy are most anxious to take advantage of his findings, as are those in marine insurance. Economic and security gains could be immense.”

“Yes, there is some talk of Sir Nigel’s work in certain intellectual salons in London presently although it is not widely known beyond experts. But where is your interest in all this, Maxwell?”

“Sir Nigel will not publish until his theses are in a perfected state, perhaps years from now. Admiral Yarrow is frustrated, as are some of the biggest names in ship and cargo insurance. A contact of mine at Lloyds of London has asked for assistance. In return, there could be a place for me on the board of Lloyds’ new global intelligence network.”

“I see,” Victoria nodded and clapped her hands lightly with a smile of understanding and approval. “So, you wish me to persuade Sir Nigel to share his findings with certain people in advance of publication?”

“Exactly, dear sister. Can you do that? I believe you have his respect as well as an unpaid debt over that monograph.”

Victoria nodded sagely, still surprisingly unoffended at being drawn into her brother’s machinations. Penelope was conscious then that she came from a very different social world to these two, where such openly transactional behaviors were frowned upon even while their results might be fêted.

“I believe I have a good chance,” Victoria pondered. “But why bring me here? I could have jumped into a carriage and gone straight to his home in London.”

Maxwell frowned now and shook his head.

“We have spoken of this before, Victoria. It is simply not appropriate for you to go about calling so freely on gentlemen with neither invitation nor chaperone.”

“Oh, fiddlesticks!” scoffed Victoria. “We both know that men like Sir Nigel don’t give two hoots for such conventions any more than I do. You don’t really care for the conventions yourself, Maxwell. You never have.”

“Yes, but the rest of the world is watching, especially now that you are the sister of the Duke of Walden. Even when innocent in nature, such free behavior by young ladies can be misinterpreted or abused by others. I will not put you in such a position.”

“So, am I to be restricted in my movements, now that you are Duke of Walden?” Victoria asked with a dangerous smile, very similar to her brother’s. “You wish for my assistance but I am not to have meetings or conversations without your presence or approval?”

“That is not what I said!” Maxwell objected, his temper now being tested, too. “You know it is not.”

“Maxwell is right,” Penelope stepped in with a sigh. “I’m sorry to say it, Victoria, but what he says is true. As Duke of Walden, Maxwell and any immediate family are part of Society now, with a capital ‘S.’ There really are repercussions for women of the ton who are seen to transgress normal moral codes.”

“But I don’t care about such repercussions. What’s the worst that could happen? No one will want to marry me? That would be a great relief. I live only for books and ideas.”

Penelope wondered whether this outburst would anger Maxwell, especially considering what she had heard of Victoria’s spectacular dowry, but instead, he only shook his head.

“You say that now, Victoria, but you are still young. One day, you may wish to marry, and when you do, I must see that you marry well. Anyway, social disgrace and spinsterhood are not the only risks you should consider. My own concern is also to keep you safe from unprincipled men.”

Again, Victoria’s face indicated scorn and incredulity at this idea, although she still spoke with affection rather than disrespect.

“Dearest brother, I do not really see that there can be so very many such wicked men abroad in England as you imagine. I have certainly never met them.”

“I have taken great care that you should not meet them,” Maxwell retorted. “You have had greater liberty than most young women because you have sought out solely intellectual companions without such vices, and I have had no cause to intervene. But the circles in which we must now move are different, and I will not have you walking into dangers you do not understand.”

Victoria looked liable to object again, but Penelope spoke up first.

“I have met such a wicked man, Victoria. Believe me, they exist, although I wish we lived in a world where they did not. I am only glad that there are also men like Maxwell who do not harbor such evil intentions.”

The duke laid a gentle hand on Penelope’s shoulder and squeezed it lightly, welcoming her contribution and indirect support for his view.

“Indeed, I have no evil intentions. However, I do have other intentions, social, economic, and perhaps even political. Could I beg your leave, dear Victoria, to turn your attention to those this morning and leave the questions of young ladies’ social mores and safety for another time?”

“Oh, I suppose so,” Victoria shrugged. “Although I warn you that I have much to say and that you may not like all of it. Perhaps I should talk to Penelope on that subject instead. So, you are suggesting that we call on Sir Nigel together, are you, Maxwell?”

The duke nodded.

“Then I shall send him a note now, stating our intention to call on him together tomorrow. Will that suit?”

“Admirably. Now, let us talk through our approach…”

As tea and cake arrived in the library, Penelope sat back in her chair and watched the Crawford siblings discussing, debating, and sometimes disagreeing on the details of the planned conversation with Sir Nigel Leveson.

Whether of one mind or directly opposed, Victoria and Maxwell were always respectful and considerate of one another, sparking off one another’s ideas and sometimes completing the other’s sentence. Maxwell’s affection and protectiveness towards Victoria were admirable, reflecting well on each of them.

Penelope’s feelings were mixed as she observed them. She was glad, of course, to have Victoria here and looked forward to getting to know this unusual young woman better. But Penelope also felt the old sadness that she and Frederick had never been so close. She had wanted to know him better, but her brother had always pulled away.

Sometimes, she had comforted herself with the idea that it was simply their difference in ages that created such personal distance, but there was a full ten years between Maxwell and Victoria, who seemed to always have been the best of friends. No, Frederick had simply not had any great interest in a younger sister. Penelope knew she would eventually have to accept this, no matter how much it hurt.

Eventually, Victoria drained her cup, stood, and announced that she would go to her room and write the message now. Penelope watched her sister-in-law leave the room, long-limbed and confident in aspect, almost — but not quite yet, other than in her imagination — mistress of her own destiny.

“A penny for your thoughts,” said Maxwell’s voice, the man himself smiling as he dropped into a chair beside Penelope.

The expression made Penelope laugh unexpectedly.

“Frederick called me Penny when I was very small, and I loved it. Mother didn’t like it at all, though. She said that was a maid’s name, not a lady’s. I hadn’t thought about that in years.”

“You still haven’t answered my question, though,” Maxwell objected, still smiling.

“Well, I have, indirectly. Looking at you with Victoria, I couldn’t help thinking of Frederick and myself, and wishing… Well, I always wanted Frederick and I to have such understanding of one other as you and Victoria seem to possess. But we are all such different people, and it has never been possible.”

“I believe your brother has great regard for you,” her husband stated.

“That is not the same thing, is it?” Penelope said sadly. “He wants the best for me and for our family, I know,, but that is all. I suppose it should be enough.”

She felt a little silly for raising her sorry little family regret after the more high-brow conversation she had just witnessed. It occurred to her that Maxwell could take her for an empty-headed or self-absorbed little fool, but there was nothing but patience and interest on his face.

“Victoria and I only had one another for most of her life,” the duke commented thoughtfully. “Our mother died when my sister was so young, and our father was not worthy of the title even though he lived some years longer. You had your mother to take an interest in you. That is likely why we are so close now.”

Penelope nodded, knowing the basic outline of their early life already but curious to know more.

“You may be right. Frederick did not need to do so much for me, or think so much of me, with Mother there.”

“I imagine you were not as challenging a child as Victoria either,” Maxwell confessed, his eyes crinkling in rueful laughter at the recollection. “She ran me ragged with her games, her interest in the world, and her endless questions about everything. It was hard for me to find tutors of sufficient caliber to teach her, and she was too wild and willful to be sent away to school.”

“How old were you when you took over Victoria’s care?” she probed.

“Officially? I was eighteen with the oversight of a court-appointed guardian from my grandfather’s lawyers. In reality, I had been looking after Victoria since she outgrew her nursemaid, perhaps at five or six years of age. Our father took less notice of his daughter than he did his pedigree spaniel. She deserved more.”

The disgust on Maxwell’s face as he spoke of his father was unmistakable, even after all these years.

“I will not say much more of William Crawford now,” her husband added. “It puts me in ill-humor still to think of him, and I prefer not to ruin my mood. Suffice it to say that he was a drunkard, a gambler, and a bully without honor. If it had not been for my grandfather’s money, Victoria and I would have had no kind of life.”

“Duchess Madeline told me that you had to fight for your grandfather’s money,” Penelope commented. “It was a brave cause to take up so young.”

“I had no choice,” Maxwell shrugged. “It was necessary, not brave. I had to salvage our family name and provide for Victoria. I could not stand by and watch my grandfather’s legacy squandered. I was lucky to discover my grandfather’s real will and to be able to challenge my father in court and win. It had to be done.”

“Still, not all men would have done as you did,” Penelope observed, her regard for Maxwell like a warm flame glowing within her. “Our society does not often value girls beyond a future role as ornament to men and mothers to their children. You have raised a fine young woman.”

“Victoria is that, isn’t she?” said Maxwell proudly. “I could see her potential even when she was tiny. It would have been wrong to do anything other than foster such talents and capability. Minds like Victoria’s, whether male or female, could make such a difference in our world if allowed to shine.”

Impulsively, Penelope stood and bent to kiss Maxwell’s cheek as he sat leaning forward in his chair.

“I have married a good man,” she said softly.

While this act had been prompted by regard and a heartfelt appreciation of the duke’s character and principles rather than physical desire, neither could ignore the spark that even this slight contact seemed to cause. Penelope would have jumped back if Maxwell had not instantaneously risen and embraced her, their lips seeking and finding one another without conscious thought.

As on the night that they had consummated their marriage, it felt to Penelope as though minds had taken a back seat to the demands of their bodies. Dazed but driven with longing, she allowed herself to return Maxwell’s kisses and caresses with an ardor she had not known she possessed before they met.

Only the sound of the clock striking noon made him finally pull back from Penelope with a regretful sigh.

“And I have married the most distractingly desirable woman in England. But how will I get anything done if I yield to instinct every time I see her?”

Penelope swallowed her disappointment in an audible moan, closing her eyes and burying her face in Maxwell’s lapel for a few seconds. She wanted so badly for her husband to simply take her, and the throbbing ache in her belly and most secret places below was almost painful.

“Is it wrong to want you so much?” she asked without raising her head.

No one had ever spoken to Penelope of a woman’s desire, she realized now. The desire of men was widely acknowledged to be a powerful and sometimes dangerous motivating force, but she had been entirely unprepared to be possessed by such overwhelming and bewildering feelings herself.

“It is not wrong, no, but we must be sensible,” Maxwell answered, his voice measured but tightly controlled. “For example, I was too careless in our coupling last time, and we have not even properly discussed the possibility of a child. There are certain days we should avoid and certain measures we might take to postpone that possibility. We must plan better next time.”

“Days?” Penelope repeated, uncomprehending. “Plan?"

“Days of a woman’s cycle of bleeding,” he explained patiently, getting his breathing under control and stepping back slightly. “There are days when a woman will almost certainly conceive if bedded and other days when it is equally certain that she will not. We must work out your cycle and time our couplings accordingly.”

“Oh,” said Penelope with a slight frown, somewhat dispirited by the idea of applying such cool and rational constraint to animal urges that demanded to run free. “I would not know how to start.”

“Well, when did you last bleed?”

“Two weeks ago or maybe three.”

“If you’re not more certain than that, we must not get carried away again before the end of the week at least.”

Penelope felt her heart and face fall at the prospect that they would not be sharing a bed again for so many days. It made her feel both better and worse to see something of her emotion reflected in Maxwell’s face, too.

Part of her rebelled against the limitation, although she could think of no strong argument to counter those her husband had put forward. Maxwell was indeed very occupied with matters that required his full attention and perhaps hers, too. This was a marriage of convenience, after all.

It was also true that they had not discussed the matter of children in any detail, Penelope previously assuming that they would arrive in their own time without any help or hindrance. Now, it seemed that getting a child was something husband and wife should actively plan together, and she felt rather lost, only wanting in every way to be in Maxwell’s arms again.

“Even if we must wait, as you say, you do still want me, don’t you?” Penelope asked then, needing confirmation of what she felt and hoped to be true.

“I always want you,” Maxwell said gravely. “That’s the problem.”

With a resigned smile, he turned on his heel and left the library.