Chapter Twenty-Eight

"Have I ever told you that I enjoy watching you ride?" Niles felt a little foolish expressing the sentiment, but he couldn't deny it was true.

"You do?" Penelope seemed pleased.

He watched her a moment longer, riding beside him, making such a lovely picture atop Midnight. "You are so tiny, and yet this powerful and enormous animal obeys your slightest nudge. It's impressive and remarkable."

"And according to my mother, a bit too masculine." Penelope shook her head but smiled. "I think she wishes I would act as fragile as my appearance makes me seem."

"I, for one, like that contradiction in you."

"Probably because you are also a contradiction," she said. "You do not, on first acquaintance, give the impression of an athletic and physically powerful gentleman, neither would most people guess that you're clever and funny. That's not to say that you give the impression that you are weak or dull or somber."

"I am well aware that I don't make much of an impression at all. I would be more concerned about that if I didn't prefer to receive little notice."

They rode across the land bridge to the lake island with its natural beauty and elegant gazebo. Niles had always liked it on his previous visits to Pledwick Manor, but it had grown particularly special to him on this visit. And that had everything to do with it having been part of every ride he'd taken with Penelope.

"Why?" she asked without warning as they reached the island.

"Why what ?"

"Why do you prefer to be unnoticed?"

His mind was wandering, which was unusual for him. Penelope had pulled them back to the topic they'd been discussing.

"There is a certain freedom," he said, "that comes with not being the center of attention." He dismounted, then gave Morwenna a quick pat. "When people forget I am present, they're far less likely to expect me to be a certain person or act a certain way. I've learned to appreciate that."

Penelope allowed him to help her dismount as well. Holding her, even for the brief time needed to lift her to the ground, sped his pulse. It was a heady feeling, one he didn't want to lose.

"Do you think, perhaps," she said once her feet were firmly on the ground, "that you've tucked yourself away as much as you have in the hope that your family would forget you were there and stop trying to force you to live the life they have chosen for you?"

"Stanley once asked me the same question." He took her hand, then walked with her along the gravel path.

"What answer did you give him?" she asked.

"I assured him that if I disliked being relegated to the shadows, I wouldn't keep returning there. But I honestly prefer having a bit of space in which to think and be myself. And I enjoy watching people more than I enjoy being watched and listening more than doing the talking."

"Then you have chosen your quiet corner rather than having been banished to it."

He looked at her. "Do you find that pathetic?"

"Not in the least." She leaned her head lightly against his upper arm. "I appreciate that you've decided who you are and what you want, and you aren't allowing people to force you into being anything else."

"You're doing the same," he reminded her.

"Peas in a pod, you and I."

Water lapped the edge of the island a few yards from where they walked. An early evening breeze rustled leaves and rippled the lake. The horses seemed quite content to remain where they were, nibbling at grass and standing about at their leisure. The setting was perfect for heartfelt confessions. He was still nervous though.

"I could not be more grateful that you made the journey to Yorkshire. Because of that, I was able to meet you and know you, despite having abandoned the original circumstances under which we were meant to meet."

"I am choosing to believe that this isn't leading to you saying you'd rather I left now."

His stomach dropped. "Is that what it sounds like I'm about to say?"

She nodded.

He sighed. "Lands, I'm horrible at this," he muttered.

"At what , Niles?"

He stopped their forward progress and stepped in front of her, taking both her hands in his. "You have laid claim to the entirety of my heart, Penelope. I find myself thinking of you when we are apart and counting the hours until I'll see you again. And when we are together, it's all I can do not to abandon politeness and decorum and simply beg you to let me hold you regardless of who might be nearby. When I thought you might be returning to Ireland, I have seldom felt so dejected. And when you insisted you meant to remain..." He was struggling to find the words to express how he'd felt when she'd chosen to stay. "I wondered if I was a fool to have imagined the connection I felt between us. But you stayed, and I think—I hope —you did so, at least in part, because you felt that connection too."

Her hair was a bit windswept from their ride. Her smile was small but tender. "I do feel it. And I treasure it."

"I have fallen wholly and unchangeably in love with you, and I couldn't let another day go by without telling you that, without confessing to you how completely you have captured my heart." Saying the words brought some relief but didn't entirely ease his nervousness.

"I love you, too, Niles Greenberry." She wrapped her arms around him as she spoke the words he had hoped to hear but hadn't dared let himself expect. "Wholly and unchangeably."

He held her, just as he so often wished he could. Breathed in the scent of orange blossoms that she wore, allowing himself to simply enjoy the feel of her in his arms. He would eventually have to ruin the moment by sharing the rest of what he needed to say.

"May I tell you a secret, Niles?"

"Of course."

"I also find myself wishing, even when there are far too many people milling about, that the expectations of polite behavior would allow me to simply melt into your arms like this. I wish for it all the time."

For so long, he'd feared he would never find a person with whom he could share this connection or have these feelings. He'd hoped to build a marriage like the ones he saw among his friends, though he'd not truly believed it possible.

He had that chance now, but fate had been cruel in the offering of it.

"You deserve to breathe, Penelope."

"I can breathe," she said with a little laugh.

"I don't mean literally in this moment. You said Fairfield was air to you, freedom to breathe in a society that offers women so little air. Hearing you speak of the dreams you have for your future there, I came to understand how crucial it is. And I want that for you. I want you to be happy, and I know you wouldn't be if Fairfield were snatched away. No matter what other happinesses you might have, losing that would leave a wound that would not truly heal."

She seemed to sense the growing somberness in his words. She pulled back a little, looking up at him. "My brother would sign the original marriage settlement, I'm certain of it. That allows me to keep Fairfield."

How to explain the complications that were there? "I would despise myself if anything I did prevented you from having it."

"What has you so solemn of a sudden?"

He took a breath. "I told you yesterday of my ambition to be in Parliament."

She nodded. "You would be wonderful there, working to do good and help people. Too many pursue the position purely for prestige or to further their own desires. You would do an entire world of good."

He adjusted so he was once more holding her hand and walking beside her. He'd do better at explaining things if he weren't holding her, knowing full well he might not be able to do so for long. "To hold a seat in the House of Commons, a man, among other things, needs a minimal income and must own property. He must own it himself. It cannot belong to a father or brother or friend or—"

"Or wife."

He nodded hesitantly. "Precisely."

"Are you suggesting we change the marriage settlement so that Fairfield would be yours after all?" He could not tell if the stilting quality of her question indicated she felt herself correct and was trying to endure the hurt of it or if she felt certain that was not what he was suggesting but couldn't think what else it might be.

"Not at all," he insisted. "Not ever. Fairfield is yours and always, always should be. I would never suggest otherwise."

She looked relieved but still didn't seem to have the least idea what he was attempting to say.

"I have known since I was young about the land requirements for an MP. As such, I have been saving what I could for years. I nearly have enough to buy a small, humble property in an inexpensive area of the kingdom."

"Oh, that does make more sense. And how wonderful that you are so close to your goal." Hope returned to her eyes, hope he would be extinguishing in a moment.

"An MP's income doesn't have to come from the estate he owns, which means with the income from Fairfield, I would have what I need in that regard, but I still have to own the property that qualifies me." He needed her to know how specifically impossible their current situation was. The estate ownership matter was not a minor one. "The property I am hoping to purchase is in Essex, not anywhere near Fairfield."

Her brow pulled as she contemplated that. "Though I would, by law, be the owner of Fairfield, it would still be our home. There is no reason we wouldn't both live there. And though I hope you would enjoy being part of the equine pursuits I have imagined for the estate, there is also no reason you couldn't be the wonderful member of Parliament you have always wanted to be."

"There is though." He pushed out a breath. "If I were to represent constituents I didn't know and never saw, representing an area of the kingdom in which I didn't live, whose interests were not my own, I would not be fulfilling that dream I've worked toward. I wouldn't be the helpful and ethical member of Parliament I want to be. I would be like too many others, the corrupt and uncaring MPs I've so long held in contempt. I would have a seat in Parliament, but I would despise myself."

"I hadn't thought of that," she said quietly.

"But neither could I be the sort of husband who lives permanently and intentionally away from his wife. I couldn't build a life elsewhere while you were building a life at Fairfield."

Penelope paled, though she didn't speak.

"I have an opportunity, very soon, to be the recipient of money enough to either purchase the property or place myself within mere months of doing so. But though it would be the fulfillment of years of work and the beginning of a pursuit that I know would be fulfilling and important to me, I find myself feeling... discouraged."

"I'm feeling a little discouraged myself." Her soft words were barely audible over the sound of the wind and the water. "Either you abandon what you have worked toward your entire adult life in order to build a life with me at Fairfield, or I abandon Fairfield and every dream I have there to build a life with you elsewhere."

"Neither of us would be fully happy in either of those scenarios. I have been trying to sort out a solution, and I finally realized that it made no sense to mull this over without making certain you knew the reality of the situation as well as the desperation I feel to find an answer. I don't ever want you to think that I have given up or don't care enough to try."

They'd nearly completed their circuit of the island. Their horses were in view once more. Would she simply retake her saddle and ride away? Would she say there was no answer and they'd do best to simply move on?

No. He refused to believe that.

"How soon do you anticipate having these additional funds?"

"At the end of the fair," he said. "And I don't know how long the property I have my eye on will be available. If I hesitate, it might be gone for good."

She nodded. "Then, there is not much time for you to move forward."

"Not much at all."

"I haven't much either." She met his eye as they slowed their forward progression. "Fully expecting to be married and settling at Fairfield, there is a stallion for sale that I offered on so I can begin my horse-breeding endeavors in earnest. The seller won't hold the animal much longer, but the bank will not extend credit to an unmarried lady."

There were even more difficulties than he'd realized.

Penelope looked up at him once more. "Where will the money you are soon to receive be coming from? I can't imagine your family is now so pleased with you that they are tossing funds in your direction."

She deserved to know the entirety of it, so there was little point skirting the question.

"There is a fight being held the day after the fair," he said.

"And you mean to wager on the outcome? That seems very risky."

He shook his head. "I'm not a betting man."

"How can you possibly earn money from it?" Before he could answer, understanding dawned on her face. "You are not to be one of the spectators but one of the pugilists."

"I felt that you ought to know that as well, ought to know everything so you could decide if I were still to your liking."

"But it is my understanding that gentlemen don't participate in fights for purses or prize money."

" Don't and aren't supposed to are two very different things." He would do best to make his explanation quickly so she could begin whatever pleading or objection or disapproval she meant to invoke. "I've been fighting for years under the pseudonym the Cornish Duke. It's how I've earned most of the money I am putting toward my eventual land. I'm not the best pugilist in the kingdom, but I am quite good. I've won far more often than I have lost."

"Who are you fighting this time?" It wasn't a question asked in approval or disapproval. All Niles could make out was curiosity and concern.

"Sam Martin. He is known as the Bath Butcher."

"Because he originally worked as a butcher?"

He was relatively certain Martin's moniker had begun as a nod to a former profession, but it certainly wasn't the reason for it any longer. "It is, at least now, a reference to his abilities in the pugilists' ring."

"You could get hurt."

"Neither competitor usually ends a bout without at least some degree of injury."

She stood beside Midnight, watching Niles. "Could you get more than hurt?"

"It is rare, but people have died or been permanently impaired." He held himself at the ready for a barrage of denouncements.

"Winning this prize would allow you to buy the land you need to live your dream?"

"The losing purse will put me far closer," he said. "The winning purse, which is very unlikely to be mine, would see me able to purchase that land immediately and have more financial freedom than my current income allows."

"Then, Niles, I will say to you what a wise person once said to me."

"What's that?"

"You need to hit something. I will add that you need to hit some one, and you need to do so as expertly as possible."

"Because you don't want me to get hurt?"

"Of course I don't want to see you hurt, but it's more than that. I want to see you claim your dream, to have everything you've fought for."

"Even if those dreams are what keep us apart?"

"You asked yesterday if I believe in miracles. I meant it when I told you that I do. Somehow, this will work out for the best. Somehow, there will be a way around our current obstacles."

He wanted to believe it as well, but life had not always been miraculous. Seldom had been, in fact.

"And if there isn't?" he asked.

She used one of the benches between the gazebo columns to climb into her saddle once more. "If miracles choose to elude us, then I will cheer for you from Fairfield and from London when I am there. I will read of all you are accomplishing, and I will be so deeply happy for you." Emotion cracked through her words. Though she was at a bit of a distance, he thought he saw a shimmer of tears.

She looked as though she meant to say more but thought better of it. She simply nudged Midnight into motion and rode away.