Chapter Seven

Penelope's POV

I was sitting at the desk in what had previously been my father's office. It now belonged to me and though I had kept everything that had been in the room, I'd added a few feminine touches, such as a cream-colored Aubusson carpet with pink roses, gold vines and light green leaves. I'd had Papa's beautiful mahogany desk refinished and polished to a high sheen and placed two mahogany chairs in front of it for guests to sit on, each with beautiful scrollwork and cream-colored silk damask cushions. The family portrait that my mother had commissioned when I was three hung on the wall behind the chair that I was sitting in and its presence comforted me.

I was going over the expenditures for the home that George Willis had delivered that morning. Things between us were still a bit chilly, but he was proper and polite, so I did not mention his forced civility. I hoped that things would not always be this way, I hoped that we might work with mutual respect for one another that was not feigned or forced, but I could not suggest such a thing to him, not unless our work arrangement became unbearable.

The paperwork for the estate was tedious, but it had to be done. It was piling up on my desk and I knew that I would soon be knee-deep in reports and receipts if I did not force myself to get everything in order. I suppose that I could have asked James to help me, but I had a feeling that he would have even less tolerance for the chore than I did. Besides which, he was overseeing the transport of Cecil and Wendell to London's Gaol, accompanied by a couple of Bow Street Runners. Surprisingly, I had declined watching them be led away in irons, I had no desire to think on them any longer, much less look at them.

My frustration over the mountain of paperwork that I was working on had me on the verge of screaming and crying, basically behaving like a toddler, when someone knocked on the door. I took a deep breath to compose myself, wiped away an errant tear and bid the one at the door to please come in. I was surprised to see the butler, Bennett, standing in the doorway, looking vaguely pompous and completely proper, just as he always did. He had never spoken of his opinion on the matter, but I knew that he disapproved of the fact that I'd taken such an active role in my father's affairs, but he was just going to have to accept the changes that had been made to Crane Manner, whether he liked them or not.

"Good morning, Bennett," I said cheerfully, offering him a smile that he met with a frown. "Was there something that you needed?"

The butler curled his lip just a bit and bowed to me. "You have a visitor, ma'am. A man who worked for Mr. Delaney's father. I asked for his name and he replied that I could address him as Brace. I do not know if that is his surname or his Christian name, ma'am, perhaps you are familiar enough….."

I knew that Bennett would be extremely offended, but I had to admit that it delighted me immensely to interrupt him as he droned on and on. "Please invite our guest to join me and ask Mrs. Harris to have someone bring us a tray with tea and refreshments."

Bennett got that look on his face that said I'd managed to irritate him, just as I'd hoped he would. He probably would have liked to have replied with an impertinent comment, but he undoubtedly feared that I would tell James if he did, and he feared James' temper.

Brace looked extremely uncomfortable as he was brought into the room that had once been my father's domain. He moved in a way that said he believed that his very presence would sully the room, and I had to rise from the desk where I was sitting to persuade him to come inside and make himself comfortable. He stared in horror at the cream-colored fabric of the chair that I offered him and vehemently shook his head.

"Nay, Missus. You're most kind, but I would not like to risk soiling such a fine piece of furniture."

I looked at Brace and determined that while his clothing was well-worn to the point that it was threadbare, it was also clean, as was his person. "Please, rest yourself and join me for refreshments," I asked, pointing once more to the chair. "You would be doing me an enormous favor by offering me the opportunity for a respite from this paperwork."

Brace still seemed hesitant, but he did as I asked. "You're most kind, Missus," he said quietly and slowly lowered himself into the offered chair. "I was hoping that your husband might be here, I have a message for him from his sister, but it seems that I've missed him."

"He will most likely be out for most of the day," I explained, placing myself in the chair that was situated beside his, though I would have preferred to stand after sitting for so long. "He is accompanying my Uncle Cecil and Cousin Wendell to the Gaol, where they will be held until they are brought to trial for the various crimes that they perpetrated against me since I was a child."

I hadn't meant to be so forthcoming with the information about my uncle and cousin, I just blurted it out and Brace looked at me with an expression that was a mixture of emotions and I felt awful for making him feel uncomfortable, just when he seemed to relax a bit. I was caught off-guard by his mention of James' sister and perhaps I subconsciously believed that Brace might tell me more about her if I revealed secrets about myself, because James had never spoken of her.

"Well, it's good that you'll have a taste of justice," Brace said awkwardly, which was the atmosphere that enveloped the room until one of the housemaids, Beth, arrived with a cart bearing a tea service and a tray filled with a variety of pastries. I noticed that Brace's eyes bugged a bit when he saw the wealth of food, but that small feast seemed to be what was needed to put him at ease and we were soon chatting quite comfortably and enjoying the repast immensely…though the topic of James' sister was not mentioned again.

James' POV

It felt good to wash my hands of Penelope's uncle and cousin. I wasn't pleased that she would have to appear in court to give her testimony against the bastards, but that couldn't be helped. I would have preferred to deal with them in my own way, I would have liked to have spilled some blood on my wife's behalf, but the thought of them being beaten and buggered on a daily basis made me see that this way was best.

It was a hell of a thing, for a man like me to visit the bloody Gaol with a couple of Bow Street Runners and not be the one in irons. If those two had known all that I'd done throughout my life, they would have thrown me in the cell with Cecil and Wendell, but I was seen as a respectable man now that I was married to Penelope. It was all a bit strange, to have muckety-mucks and do-gooders tipping their hats to me, and I had to say that I wasn't all that fond of being a reputable man…but I was fond of my wife, so I just ignored them as best as I could.

I was on my way home when I saw a ghost from the past walking arm in arm with a man, seemingly unaware of the fact that I'd brought my horse to a stop in the middle of the ruddy street and stared at her as she passed. Time had been kind to my half-sister, she was richly dressed, no doubt owing to the dandy holding her arm. She wouldn't have done well if she'd had to depend on our father, so I suppose that her face had been her fortune…not to mention her cunt.

I applied my spurs a little roughly and my horse let me know that he didn't appreciate my brutish behavior by neighing at me. The bastard rarely had reason to chastise me and I felt like a tosser, but I hadn't counted on catching sight of her. I wondered, for just a moment, what Penelope would say, what she would do, if she knew that I'd fucked my sister? She probably assumed that I'd rogered my share of whores, but it would probably be difficult for her to accept, much less understand, the fact that I'd known my half-sister in the biblical fashion.

I wondered if she would stay married to me, but in name only. I couldn't abide the thought of her refusing my touch, of never getting to hold her again, to make love to her. I didn't want Zilpha any longer, there was a sick surge inside of me when I saw her, I imagined that it would always be there, but it wasn't the way that it used to be. Penelope was the woman that I wanted, that I needed, and I knew that I was going to have to let my perverse past drift away.

I galloped home, moving in and out of the buggies and horses on the street at a breakneck speed. I had a sudden and overwhelming need to see my wife and I ignored the angry shouts and cries of surprise as I splashed mud onto one person and nearly caused a collision with another. I wasn't making any friends, but I didn't give a damn. For some reason I needed to look at Penelope and I needed to do so as soon as possible.

The groom, Evan Kyle, took my horse from me and I headed into the house, drawing up short as I ran into Brace coming out. "What are you doing here, eh?" I asked shortly, sounding a bit more hostile than what was necessary. "Is there something wrong back at the house?"

Brace took a deep breath and looked damned nervous, which only served to fuel my antagonistic frame of mind. "Begging your pardon," he said, "Your Missus offered me refreshments while I waited for you to return, but she needed to get back to the figures regarding her estate….."

"Oh, for fucks sake, Brace, I don't give a damn about the details of your afternoon with my wife!" I exploded. "I want to know what brought you to our house, what was so bloody important that it would bring you 'round….."

"It's to do with Nootka Sound," Brace said quietly. "Your half-sister means to sell it to The East India Company. I came 'round because I thought that you might want to know."

"That fucking bitch," I muttered, thinking to myself that I'd let someone bugger me before I'd let my dear sister sell the only thing of value that our father had left behind. "I appreciate you giving me this news, Brace. Come back in a couple of days and have dinner with us."

I hadn't said it in a way that would suggest that it was an invitation, but more of an order. He could have told me to piss off, it would have served me right for him to do so, but he nodded instead and made his way down the street, toward the rumbling wreck that my father had left behind. I walked toward the house, muttering and growling as I made my way inside and immediately set out to find my wife. I was not fit company at the moment, but I needed to see her just the same.

I ran into her maid, Fern, that girl who always shrank away from me as if I were on the verge of hitting her every time she saw me. "Oh, g-good evening, Mr. Delaney," she stammered, and I tried, for her sake, as well as my wife's, to assume the air of a man who wasn't a brute. "Mrs. Delaney is in your bedchamber, awaiting your arrival b-before she goes down to the dining room."

I was not the sort of man who handed out words of thanks. I knew that Penelope would have liked for me to be, but she never pressed the issue. "Thank you, Fern," I said, well, more like growled, and the poor girl's mouth was hanging open before she closed it and curtsied to me, as if I was some la-di-dah gentleman.

"You're very welcome, sir," she said tentatively, then turned to make her way downstairs, where the news would undoubtedly spread that I wasn't such an ogre after all.

I opened the door with a bit more force than I'd meant to use and found my wife seated at her vanity, a marble topped, burl walnut piece of craftsmanship that matched the dresser as well as our bed, though there was no marble on the bed. It was a silly word to use for Penelope, vanity, given that she didn't have a conceited bone in her body, but I liked the way that she was looking at me in the mirror, lit on both sides by a pair of lamps with etched glass globes.

She was dressed like a proper lady in a dark blue dress with lighter blue rosebuds all over. Fern had done a beautiful job with her hair and she rubbed a bit of color on her plump lips, making them stand out in a way that awoke that primitive side of me that always wanted to rip her clothes off of her body and have her. That was what I would have liked to done at that moment, but I knew that I would have to wait, no matter how loudly my body was calling for her.

"Uh-oh," she said, smiling as she brushed a hint of color onto her cheekbones. "You look extremely cross, my dear. Did you see Brace on your way in? Surely he is not the one who's put you in this foul mood…is he?"

She didn't have to tell me that she knew of Zilpha, I could see the question in her eyes, but she didn't say a word about it and I sure as hell wasn't going to mention that damned slag. That would be a lovely conversation for a man to have with his new wife, wouldn't it? How did one go about admitting that he used to fuck his sister? I knew that I would have to tell her someday…but it wasn't this day.

"I'm much better, love," I said softly, bringing myself under control as I bent to kiss her on her cheek. "I've just been missing you, that's all."

Penelope's POV

I had never had much in the way of family and as such I was naturally curious about James' sister, but it was obvious that he didn't want to talk about her. He tried to pretend that everything was alright as we dined, but I could tell that he was in a very dark mood. I tried to engage him in conversation, but he wouldn't reply right away and when he did answer I sensed that his mind was somewhere far away.

I knew that I could go calling on his sister, she would not be difficult to find, but I didn't dare do so without his knowledge and acquiescence. I wondered why he was so hesitant to cross paths with her. I would love to have a sister, I would be overjoyed to have someone who shared my blood, someone to share secrets with, to share her family with mine, once James and I were blessed with a little one. It would be a dream come true for me, but it was obvious that my husband did not feel that way about his sister.

I wondered if their rift had anything to do with their late father. I knew that James hadn't been in Town for his funeral and that had to weigh heavily on him. It was one of the other things that I would have liked to have discussed with him, but it was obvious that he had no desire to share his feelings on that topic with me. He hid so much from me, yet we'd only been married for a short time, so I could hardly expect for him to…..

We'd been sitting in front of the fire, me pondering, him brooding, when suddenly he lifted me up into his arms and carried me to our bedroom. He never said a word, he merely looked straight ahead, and once the door closed behind him, he lowered me into the chair in front of the vanity and began to gently unpin my hair. It fell down in waves after the last pin was loosed and he began to brush it, all without saying a word.

Once that task was finished, he bent down on one knee and removed my shoes, then took hold of my hand and brought me to my feet. He then removed my dress and all of my underclothes, save for my stockings. His eyes turned a darker shade of green as he looked me over from head-to-toe, and he unfastened his trousers, revealing how aroused he was, and took me into his arms.

He looked at me for a moment, staring deep into my eyes, then whispered my name before his mouth claimed mine in a kiss that was so deep, so passionate, that it stole my breath away. He ran his hands up and down my body as he kissed me, growling in a way that would have scared most, but it only piqued my growing desire. The kiss went on and on, until finally he moved his mouth away, only to take hold of nipple and suckle it while his hand slid between my thighs and his index finger, calloused and knowing, stroked me in just the right place.

"James….?" I whimpered as he lifted me off of the floor and moved to place me against the wall, reaching into his trousers and stroking himself as he stood between my legs.

"Don't be scared, love," he said softly, speaking for the first time since we'd finished dinner. He lowered me down a bit and entered me in one swift thrust, which made me mewl loudly with pleasure. "All you have to do is trust me."