Bewitched Page 5

  The apothecary vial dropped into her skirts. Penelope jerked back to reality. Good heavens! She was supposed to be releasing this man from the bonds of unwanted love, not entangling her own emotions. She quickly looked down, avoiding another kiss, and clamped the antidote back in her palm, hiding it from view. “W-we should be getting back,” she said.

  John slumped back for a moment before nodding.

  She chanced a quick glance into his eyes, desperate to ignore the disappointment settling in her stomach. Would he like her at all without the love potion? Knowing what she did of his past, Penelope sincerely doubted it.

  Bewitched

  Eight

  John paced the parlor of his brother’s impressive Mayfair manse. “I want my urn,” he barked. “It’s done. I courted your charity case and now I want what I’m owed.” What the hell had he been thinking to kiss Penelope the night before?

  Reclined in an arm chair, Colton threw his head back and laughed. “Come, John, you can’t expect me to hand over the urn after one day calling on Lady Penelope. Was it really so awful to spend time in the company of a woman?”

  John glared at Colton. “I have no doubt after one day with me, Lady Penelope is quite over her infatuation with you.”

  Colton’s expression sobered. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “Nothing at all. Give me the urn.”

  Colton set aside his newspaper and stood. “No. I can hardly believe you’ve accomplished anything in a mere day. Especially with Penelope.” He raked a hand through his hair, concern and doubt drifting through his expression. “Give me two weeks. Two weeks of light hearted courting and I will give you the urn.”

  “What is it about this girl, Colt?” John speared his brother with a shrewd gaze. “None of this makes sense. If you’re so hung up on Lady Penelope, marry her.”

  Colton appeared pained. “I can’t.”

  “Why not? Because you’re engaged to the Featherton girl?” John shook his head. “I fail to understand why you proposed to her in the first place if Penelope is so important.”

  Colt averted his gaze. “It’s complicated.”

  John crossed his arms, resting a shoulder against the fireplace mantle. “I don’t understand, Colton. Are you in trouble?”

  His brother’s jaw clenched, but he gave no verbal response.

  “If you’re in trouble I can help,” John pressed.

  “There is no trouble.”

  John didn’t believe that for a second.

  “I feel guilty is all,” Colt said after a long pause. “Lady Penelope may have believed I would offer more than friendship. Rightly so. But I… I simply can’t.”

  Frustrated, John shook his head. “You’re talking in circles. I fail to understand why you can’t marry the woman you obviously want. You’re a bloody duke. You can do whatever you wish. Penelope is the daughter of an earl. She is also exceedingly beautiful. I should think she’d make any man an exceptional wife.” He strode forward, intent upon gleaning some answers. His brother was obviously hiding something. “What is going on, Colton? I refuse to believe you’re merely nursing a guilty conscience. Penelope is important to you or else you wouldn’t go to so much trouble with this charade. Something prevented you from following through with your plans for her. What?”

  “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  Colt paced a miserable circle about the room. “You and your unwavering sense of honor could never understand!”

  Unmoved by the outburst, John stood firm. “Try me.”

  Colton slumped into a chair, resting his elbows on his knees. For a moment the assured duke disappeared and John saw only the boyishly rueful façade of his big brother. The big brother forever in trouble with their father for some mischief or another. The boy that never meant any harm, but never managed to keep his nose clean either. “If you wish to help, court Penelope for a few days more. I don’t wish to see her hurt.”

  * * *

  “Lady Penelope, Lord John Breckenridge to see you,” the butler announced.

  Penelope swallowed and set aside her needlepoint. Blast it. The antidote hadn’t worked. Two days had passed since the dinner party and she’d just begun to hope Corrine’s magic had proved effective. “Thank you, Carleton. I’ll see him in the parlor.” Her mind spun as she took a moment to collect her thoughts and reign in the nerves bandying about her belly.

  Even as she knew it was wrong to accept affections from a man under the influence of a Gypsy spell, excitement leapt in her breast with the prospect of seeing him again. Despite herself, she liked Lord John. His kiss still burned upon her lips. And moreover, she enjoyed talking with him.

  Setting off to the parlor, she mumbled to herself, “What shall I do?”

  John stood just inside the room, hands clasped behind his back, contemplating a large portrait hanging on the wall.

  “Good afternoon, Lord John.”

  He turned with a smile, his dark eyes alight as they fell upon her. “Penelope.” He nodded in return. “I hope I’m not coming at a bad time.”

  “Not at all. You saved me from a very dull afternoon of needlepoint.”

  He grinned. “Now I feel absolutely gallant.”

  Penelope laughed, and seated herself on the loveseat.

  John quickly followed suit, sitting in an adjacent chair. “I had hoped to invite you for a drive, but I fear the weather is far too cold today.” He winked. “Perhaps we could play a quick game of cards instead.”

  Once again Penelope laughed, surprised by how utterly at ease John seemed in her presence. It would be so easy to give in, relax, and enjoy his company. “I will win you know. I’m rarely bested in cards.”

  “Yes, well, we both know why that is.” John leaned forward with an easy grin, a twinkle lighting his eye. His gaze dropped to her mouth, heat sparking in their depths, and Penelope’s breath caught. “I suppose I should apologize for my forward behavior the other night,” he said in a low, husky voice. “But I don’t particularly want to.” He reached across the distance to brush his knuckles across her cheek.

  Heat flushed through Penelope’s face and her skin tingled from his touch. She smiled, and all thought of ineffective antidotes fled from her mind. “If you had a drive in mind, it’s a pity you didn’t come yesterday.” She couldn’t resist flirting a little.

  John sat back. “I would have, but I had a meeting at the War Office with my superiors regarding my next assignment.”

  “Oh?” Penelope shifted in her seat, trying to ignore the disappointment that seeped into her bones. “Will you be leaving the country?” she asked intuitively, thinking back to their conversation the night of the party.

  “No,” he replied. “Quite the opposite, actually. My brother needs a bit of help managing his lands in the north, and the War Office would like a stronger military presence, primarily militia, in the same area. So I am to be promoted and stationed in the north to organize local militia regiments and provide a family presence in my brother’s stead.”

  “A promotion! John, that’s wonderful. Are you happy with the arrangement?”

  “I am, yes. Surprisingly, it’s nice to be back in England. It feels like home again.”

  Penelope nodded. “I understand.” She sobered a bit. “I miss my home.”

  “You mean living with your father.”

  “Yes, but it is not so much the place as the people. The happiness.” Penelope hesitated, clasping her hands in her lap. “After my mother died, Papa became so melancholy. It was as if nothing else existed for him except the pain of loss. My home became little more than a lonely tomb. I was so happy when we came to Town for the season.” She gulped, clasped fingers trembling. “My debut season. H-he suffered a mental break while parliament was in session.”

  John’s dark gaze flickered with empathy. He knew loss and would never judge her for her father’s deep depression.

  “He is much better now. Still sad at times and withdraw
n, but in control of his faculties nonetheless.”

  “But that house isn’t home any longer is it,” John said softly, the words more of a statement than a question.

  “No.” Penelope gave her head a small shake. “I enjoy staying with my cousins, but I long for a place that is my own.”

  John regarded her seriously. Eyes alive with support… empathy… and something more. Something deeper that sent shivers of awareness along her spine. Her heart swelled in response. “Penelope, I believe you and I are kindred spirits.”

  Kindred spirits. Souls destined to be find one another and be forever entwined. Trapped in John’s dark eyes she could not look away. Mysterious eyes. Eyes that were shadowed and yet warm… the color of cinnamon.

  Cinnamon!

  Penelope shot to her feet. “John, I don’t know the right way to tell you this, but…” She wrung her hands. “You see…”

  He gazed at her quizzically.

  “Any feelings you have for me are the result of a Gypsy love potion that my cousins convinced me to try.”

  “Gypsy potion.” John regarded her cautiously. “Is this a joke? Do you mean to deflect my interest by fabricating stories?”

  “No. Not at all. I like you, John, which is why you must know the truth. I never believed it would work, and—”

  John burst out laughing. “A love potion? Oh, that is rich.”

  “I’m sorry,” Penelope blurted. “It wasn’t even meant for you. You drank the potion quite by accident. When you mentioned feeling compelled to call on me, I knew it had worked. I cannot abide you—”

  “Penelope. Penelope,” John interrupted, unable to wipe the grin from his mouth. “I’m not here as a result of some Gypsy brew. My brother bribed me to pay you court.”

  Penelope stopped short. Bribed? “Y-your brother?” Certainly she’d misunderstood. She backed up a step, acid boiling in her stomach. “He paid you to call on me?”

  All mirth fell instantly from John’s face. “Penelope, wait. I spoke out of turn. Please und—”

  “The duke put you up to this?” Her mind whirled as hurt and mortification crashed down around her. A direct blow to the stomach couldn’t have staggered her more powerfully. “You must think me such a fool.”

  “No. I don’t. I swear it.”

  “All I wanted was to ensure you liked me for me, not some silly hokum.”

  “I do like you, Penelope.” John strode forward, reaching for her.

  She quickly spun away. “Oh, no. However naïve you deem me to be, I know better than to believe that. You were bribed to spend time with me. Colton—” Her voice cracked and she gulped back a sob. “He… you…” Her throat constricted, choking off the words. Tears burned her eyes, blurring John’s handsome visage as he closed the distance between them. She backed quickly away, but ran into a chair.

  “Penelope, don’t cry.” He caught her before she could escape, clasping her upper arms in his strong palms. “Hear me out,” he ordered, voice deep and thick with emotion.

  “Let me go.”

  Before she could mount any protest, John slipped one arm about her waist and tugged her against the firm wall of his chest. He leaned down and took her lips in a hard, rather ineloquent kiss that shocked her to instant silence.

  Responding purely on instinct, Penelope swayed in, tilting her head to allow for better access. John acted immediately, softening his mouth against hers. Ever so gently, he teased the crease of her lips, encouraging her to open for him. She parted her lips naturally, allowing his tongue to dip into her mouth. She shivered, excited by the forbidden pleasure. This was nothing like the simple kiss from the other night, and yet, what kiss was simple when even a whisper of his lips sent her senses reeling?

  She drew back slightly, blinking the haze from her mind.

  “Penny,” he whispered huskily.

  “John, I—” Reality snapped back into place, along with the truth of his betrayal. She jerked out of his embrace, crossing her arms firmly across her chest. “You should go,” she said coolly, and made a beeline for the door.

  “Penelope,” he called after her. “Please, I’m sorry.”

  Confused and embarrassed, Penelope stayed the course, refusing to look back at him. She needed to think, and it was impossible to form a coherent thought with John in the room.

  She rushed through the open parlor door, into the hallway, and collided with a man exiting her uncle’s study. “Whoa!” She caught a glimpse of red wool and Colonel Holbrook’s face as he took a healthy step back. Knocked off balance, Penelope teetered on one modestly heeled foot. She reached for the colonel’s arm but grasped naught but air. Unable to regain her balance, she stumbled and fell to the side. She cringed, holding out her arms to cushion the fall. Seconds before crashing to the floor, strong arms banded around her, halting her inelegant descent and steadying her. Thus righted, she brushed a loose spray of hair from her eyes and looked up at her rescuer.

  John.

  She gulped. Tremors quivered in her belly as their gazes locked.

  “Are you all right, Lady Penelope?” John asked. His hands still rested at her waist.

  “Quite all right.”

  “Breckenridge?” Her uncle’s voice boomed from the study. “I didn’t realize you were here.”

  “Lord John was just leaving,” Penelope said pointedly, jumping from his arms.

  John narrowed his gaze, glancing from Penelope to Colonel Holbrook. For a moment she thought he would refuse to leave. John’s dark gaze flicked back to her. Penelope’s breath caught. After another second of smoldering silence, John took leave.

  “Lady Penelope, I was hoping to secure a moment alone with you.”

  She startled, turning to the colonel and her uncle. “Pardon?” She shook her head, hoping to clear it.

  The colonel’s jaw clenched and he cast a jaded gaze toward the door Lord John had just vacated.

  “Colonel Holbrook was hoping to have a private audience with you, Penelope,” her uncle said.

  “Oh, I see.” Penelope gulped. She hadn’t realized the colonel had been meeting her uncle today. “It really isn’t the best time.” Still reeling from John’s visit, she was not prepared for an interlude with Colonel Holbrook. If he asked for her hand she’d be expected to say yes.

  Bewitched

  Nine

  A love potion.

  John gazed up the steps outside the Landon townhouse, unable to banish Penelope’s broken expression from his mind.

  Oh, to be so innocent again. To believe in any sort of magic instead of the bitter truths of the world.

  Guilt for his behavior gutted him. It had never occurred to him that she might get hurt in this little charade. He’d agreed to the ruse because he’d been curious about Colton’s bizarre request. Of all people, John should have known better than to tangle with matters of the heart. He knew what betrayal was. He never should have left Penelope’s side. He should have stayed and demanded another moment alone with her.

  He paced a few steps to the left of the stairs, contemplating his options. If he barreled back in, insisting upon an audience with Penelope, it would imply a romantic interest he wasn’t prepared to follow up on. Rules of propriety were strict. If he wasn’t careful he’d find himself at the altar, or at the very least expected to offer for her. Christ. What was a man to do?

  From the corner of the brownstone, a flash of movement caught his eye. He snapped his head around and glimpsed a small boy, no more than ten, peaking around the corner. The lad caught sight of John and instantly popped back behind the wall.

  Odd. Not to mention suspicious.

  John followed with long strides and caught the little scalawag attempting to hide behind a pathetically slim tree. The boy clenched his eyes shut as though to make himself invisible. His clothes were worn and he grasped a cloth sack in one hand.

  “What have we here?” John grabbed hold of the boy’s arm before he could scamper off again.

  Panic lit the boy’s wide gray eyes
. He tugged against John’s hold and the bag slipped from his hand. An ornate candlestick and several silver spoons spilled into the snow.

  John held firm to the lad. “A thief, eh?”

  The imp said nothing.

  “What is your name?”

  The boy pursed his lips, refusing to respond.

  Without releasing the young brigand, John scooped up the lad’s would be loot. “Come along then. You have some explaining to do to Lord Landon.”

  Without knocking on the door, John threw the portal inward and hauled the lad into the high-ceiling entryway he’d just vacated. Lord Landon, Holbrook and Penelope still stood outside the door to the earl’s study. All turned startled gazes to John.

  “My Lord, I believe I’ve found the reason for your missing letter opener. I caught this little scamp outside with a bag full of your fine silver.” John tossed the sack to the floor. The contents clattered loudly on the marble floor.

  “Well, I’ll be…” Lord Landon quickly lifted the bag and Pennyred inside.

  “Why it’s Simon, our delivery boy.” Penelope strode forward, eyes wide with surprise and confusion. “Are you responsible for all the things we’ve had go missing?”

  Wide frightened eyes flicked about the room as Simon no doubt searched for escape.

  John eased his grip on the boy’s shoulder. Something in Simon’s mannerism spoke of more than petty thievery, and moreover, a child this young did not learn to steal finery all on his own. “It’s all right, son,” John said softly. “If you’re truthful we may be able to help.”

  Simon glanced from John to Penelope and then back to John. “Me mamma is real sick. The coin from deliveries just ain’t enough to pay rent, an’ the doctor. And I got three little brothers need ta eat.”

  John knelt, regarding the child seriously. “So you took to stealing?”

  Simon nodded. “Mr. Jeffries says if I keep bringin’ him the goods he’ll take care of us. Mama needs medicine and—”

  From behind them Holbrook scoffed. “That is no excuse. This boy bel—”