The Determined Lord Hadleigh Page 24

  ‘I see your dilemma.’ Jessamine reached out and squeezed her hand. ‘It is hard to trust again after you have been treated so dreadfully by another. Penhurst beat you and made you a prisoner in your own home and Hadleigh tried to anonymously give you and your child money when you had none... If you don’t mind me saying, you are comparing poison mushrooms to strawberries. His actions might have been clumsy, but they were never meant with any malice. A good man will always move heaven and hearth to protect you.’

  Not even Jessamine, a woman who had suffered at the hands of a vile man herself, understood the crux of the matter. ‘I spent three years wishing I was free—praying for it—I’m not ready to give that up yet.’

  ‘Then let us hope you don’t spend the next three years regretting that decision,’ said Harriet matter of factly as the tea tray came in. ‘Because then you’ll not only have let a good man go, you’ll have let Penhurst win when the monster deserves to rot in hell.’

  ‘This is all so sudden.’

  ‘So slow things down.’ The Dowager sighed. ‘Take advantage of the fact the dratted man has high-tailed it back to London and embrace the conundrum. And have a proper think about what truly matters here. Make one of Hadleigh’s lists...maybe that would help.’

  ‘I did that before and it’s what got me into this mess.’

  ‘It’s not a mess, darling,’ said Harriet. ‘It’s an adventure. Possibly life’s greatest. The past is the past, but the future is unwritten. None of us can truly ever know what that path holds. The best we can do is hope we’ve made the correct decision as to who we walk down it with. Such a decision allows for some dithering at the crossroads. Cake?’

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  While one of the defence lawyers paused the proceedings to talk to his client, Hadleigh slipped the piece of foolscap from under his neat pile of notes and stared at his list.

  Should I have proposed to Penny?

  He was fairly pleased with the reasons for.

  I love her.

  Despite currently wanting to strangle her he couldn’t deny that. It was responsible for making him beyond miserable.

  When you love someone, you marry them.

  Something which was so obvious it required no further clarification. At least to him. She, of course, didn’t view things with the same lens. Which brought him neatly on to the next obvious point. The one he had underlined three times.

  I am nothing like Penhurst.

  He was still smarting at the comparison. How dared she? How dared she?

  Hadleigh found himself frowning, so skipped down to the next point.

  We fit together well.

  He meant that in the literal sense rather than the physical, although there was no denying the latter. But they understood one another, complemented one another, usually got along very well. When she wasn’t being grossly unfair and stubborn.

  The house feels like home when she’s in it.

  And he missed them both. So much so, that unless he wasn’t in the thick of work, images of her in it skittered across his mind as he tried to picture exactly where she was at that precise moment of the day. Like now, for instance, at around two o’clock every afternoon or thereabouts, she would be in the garden playing with Freddie. It hadn’t snowed yet, which was just as well, as he wanted to see that little boy’s face when it did. Watch him toddling about in it, trailing his tiny footprints all over the blanket of snow on the lawn. Teach him how to roll a snowball, make a snowman, control his frequent temper tantrums...good grief, he yearned for that sort of noise and chaos.

  At that point, he picked up his quill and briskly added another item to the column.

  They are my family.

  That made six damn fine reasons for. Now for the tricky part—seeing it through her eyes. Something he was usually very good at in his professional life, it was what made him such a force to be reckoned with in court. He anticipated the opposite arguments, mitigated against them and then obliterated them under cross-examination. Although he was prepared to concede he might not do it quite so well in matters concerning Penny.

  Reasons why I shouldn’t have proposed: it was a little hasty.

  Yes, it had only been a few weeks, but surely that didn’t matter? What one person might call hasty, another would call romantic. And if it felt right it felt right.

  She was half-asleep.

  With hindsight, perhaps he should have waited till Penny was wide awake and in charge of all her faculties...and he had tired the poor thing out. He’d made love to her for hours. It had been a wonder she could stand, let alone think.

  She was previously married to Penhurst.

  Hadleigh frowned at that one, then allowed the inevitable fury to smoulder. As much as he wanted to put that marriage behind them, he hadn’t been the one to experience it. Listening to her talk about the way she was belittled, bullied, controlled and beaten by the brute was hard enough. To imagine what it must have been like for her, day in, day out, was impossible. Because...

  Penhurst made her life a living hell.

  Ergo, it was perfectly reasonable that she would be wary of another marriage.

  Perfectly reasonable.

  Damn.

  She fears being controlled again more than anything.

  Again, perfectly understandable given her past and she only had his word that he wouldn’t attempt to do the same. Which put his foot-stamping temper tantrum before he’d stormed back to town into an entirely different perspective. When she had shown reluctance, he should have smiled and told her he would prove her wrong, not waved his arms in the air and chastised her for not being as enthusiastic about skipping down the aisle as he was.

  Food for thought. Especially in view of what he knew about her. With a heavy, guilty heart he jotted down the next two points in quick succession. Both made him ashamed of his heavy-handed behaviour.

  It usually takes patience and diligence to break down her defences.

  I only thought about what I wanted when I asked her.

  Seven. And all without giving it much thought. There were probably more he could add, too. Like the fact she had a child to consider, or that she had married in haste once before and lived to rue the day. Or that she hadn’t been free for a year yet and that year had hardly been easy for her. Her home had been taken away, her life, her status, even her purpose had been ripped from her and she had been entirely powerless to stop it. He knew all that.

  Knew it!

  He practically groaned aloud. He’d made a hash of it again. A mallet to crack a walnut, forcing her to put on a hat she wasn’t ready for and all the other blasted analogies which doubtless summed up what an idiot he had been that night.

  This wasn’t about him, it was about them. And the fact there would be no them if he continued to force his agenda to the detriment of hers. She wanted to rebuild her life. Reopen Ridley’s. Stand on her own two feet. For a man who prided himself at presenting irrefutable evidence to get the correct verdict, he had been going about this entirely wrong. And it would be at least another week before he could go home and tell her.

  Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lord Fennimore approaching and slipped the damning list back under his papers. ‘Do we know what the delay is?’

  ‘The Earl of Winterton is apparently having a change of heart. There are whispers he is about to change his plea to guilty!’ The older man chuckled. ‘Nothing like the cold light of day and the harsh realities of irrefutable evidence, eh?’

  ‘No. Nothing like it.’ Damn it. Idiot! Idiot! Perhaps he should write her a letter...

  ‘You did an excellent job this morning, Hadleigh! Three down and four to go, although I’ll wager Burmarsh will be next. Look at the blighter sweating over there.’

  Lord Burmarsh looked decidedly green and totally petrified. Hardly a surprise. Westminster Hall was packed to the rafters wit
h the great and the good. Everyone in possession of a peerage seemed to have turned out today, crammed in even the highest rows of the gallery benches squeezed between the ancient buttresses of the imposing hammer-beam ceiling, none wanting to miss a moment of the trial of the century. Outside the huge arched door, another circus was in full swing: reporters, agitators, curious onlookers from all walks of life held back by the reinforced lines of soldiers drafted in to keep them in check and out of the building.

  ‘This just arrived for you.’ Flint strode in and handed him a note. ‘I’m to await your reply.’

  Hadleigh aimlessly cracked the seal and scanned its brief contents.

  Should I accept Tristan’s proposal?

  Reasons for: I love him

  Reasons against: I’m scared

  His heart leapt. ‘She’s here?’

  ‘Outside, in fact. Talking to the press.’

  Hadleigh dashed outside and there she was. Staring intently at an arc of reporters as she spoke to them and they hurriedly scratched down her words. Wearing another bold new dress and matching wool spencer in peacock-blue—the exact shade of her eyes. She filled both beautifully.

  She sensed him and turned. Smiled. Went to move away.

  ‘Lady Penhurst! Lady Penhurst!’ She looked back at the reporters with an exaggerated frown.

  ‘I am not Lady Penhurst any longer, thank goodness. I am Penelope Ridley again. Of Ridley’s Emporium.’

  ‘The one that used to be on Bond Street?’

  ‘The one that will be back on Bond Street in the not-so-distant future. This city has been deprived of true quality furniture for far too long. Don’t you agree?’

  Hadleigh held back, folded his arms and simply watched her answer a barrage of questions which she handled perfectly. She wanted to stand on her own two feet. She didn’t need to be carried. He simply had to prove he deserved to be the one to stand beside her. Not that she needed him at this precise moment, when she had the press eating out of her hand.

  After several minutes, she extracted herself, promising them she would be back shortly to talk to them again and walked towards him. ‘You got my note.’

  ‘I did. We need to talk, I think.’

  ‘We do. We could have talked sooner if you had not stormed off in a huff.’

  ‘A fair point.’ The press had started to gather around them, so he led her past the guards and back into the hall, saying nothing until they were all alone inside the small anteroom he had been assigned as his office for the duration.

  ‘Have you read it?’

  ‘I have.’ To vex her, and as revenge for her pointed huff comment, he made sure he was wearing his lawyer’s mask.

  ‘Then you see my dilemma...’

  ‘I do. I retract my proposal.’

  She hadn’t been expecting that and blinked. He couldn’t help finding some pleasure in her obvious disappointment. ‘You retract it?’

  ‘Yes, I do. Because I realised...’ He sighed and snatched off his wig and shook it at her. ‘You and your blasted hat analogy. I have a whole speech worked out which I simply cannot say while wearing my lawyer’s hat.’ He tossed it on the table and stripped off his gown. ‘Let me start it again in my Tristan hat—the hat I only wear in front of you, I might add. But back to that proposal.’

  ‘The one you just retracted.’

  ‘Yes. Because I have an entirely different proposal for you.’ He took her hand. Dropped down on one knee. ‘Penny Ridley, I adore you. So much so, I cannot bear the thought of you marrying me with an ounce of doubt in your mind. You married in haste last time and, because I want this to be nothing like the last time, I am proposing we wait. In actual fact, I am proposing a trial marriage. I have this charming estate just outside London. Close enough that we can both easily travel there from our respective careers, but blessedly far enough away that nobody will disturb us. Where we can live together as man and wife without all the complicated legalities which permanently bind and to give me all the time I need to banish away all your fears.’ He placed a kiss inside her palm and closed her fingers around it. ‘And then, once you are entirely convinced of my worthiness, you can propose to me.’ He was giving her all the control. ‘I doubt it will take you long.’

  ‘Oh, really?’ She was smiling. Beaming, in fact. ‘If you don’t mind me saying, that is very cocksure. And why, pray tell, are you so confident?’

  He kissed her then, long and slow and utterly perfect. ‘Because, my darling Penny, I am meticulous and thorough, famously so. And I intend to bathe you in my meticulous thoroughness until you’ll be begging me to marry you.’

  ‘Meticulous and thorough.’ He felt her heartbeat quicken against his. Watched her lick her lips. Stare at his.

  ‘Indeed. Doggedly and determinedly so. Week in, week out. Day and night. So, do you accept my proposal?’

  ‘Well... I suppose you’ll need someone looking out for you to check that you eat.’ She kissed him this time, quite vigorously until the clerk knocked on the door and summoned him back to court. Then she helped him on with his gown, repositioned his wig and straightened his lapels. ‘Go. Be brilliant. And I shall see you later, my trial husband.’

  ‘That’s a yes, then.’

  She kissed him and smiled against his mouth. ‘It’s a definite maybe... I’m certainly looking forward to your opening arguments.’

  Epilogue

  Chafford Grange—November 1830

  ‘To the next ten years!’ Seb raised his glass and the four friends clinked theirs against it, not caring that it was barely midday.

  ‘Ten years?’ Gray shook his head, disbelieving. ‘Where did they go?’

  They were gathered in Hadleigh’s drawing room as they did every November each year. The reunion had become a ritual now that their lives had scattered over time, one Penny had started to celebrate both their enduring friendships and the annual anniversary of all their marriages. Not that she and Hadleigh had married that year like the others. She had made him wait till the following February for the legalities. Neither of them had needed them, though. They had been married in their hearts from the first moment he had triumphantly carried her over the threshold after winning the biggest trial of his career at that point and they had never looked back since—other than nostalgically.

  Ten years?

  What a significant and wholly wonderful milestone. Ten years of love and family. Ten years of friendship and happiness. Ten years of noise and chaos. Especially during November when they all gathered en masse, dragging nannies and nursemaids, dogs, toys, wives and children. For a man who had once thought he preferred a solitary lifestyle, it still surprised him how much he adored his house full. If he was lucky, he managed a few solitary hours a day now if he was working and found it was he who would push his notes aside at some point and seek the company of his family.

  ‘For my part, the last ten years have been blurred with more than my fair share of female histrionics.’ Flint stared pointedly at his four blonde daughters alongside Gray’s titian-haired youngest. They were practising their lines with their grandmother for the show they would put on for the adults tonight, another annual tradition, failing completely to disguise the obvious love in his eyes. Only those who knew him well would see beyond the icily calm spymaster who now worked secretly within the Foreign Office, co-ordinating all British espionage. Like his father and grandfathers before him, being a dedicated agent of the Crown was in his blood.

  ‘I must have been cursed in a past life. Gird your loins, gentlemen. Despite last year’s King Lear debacle, rumour has it we are being subjected to selected readings from Hamlet tonight.’ He shuddered and adopted an entirely put-upon expression. ‘I loathe Shakespeare in general and especially the tragedies. Doubtless we shall have to sit through the dreaded soliloquy. My girls, I am convinced, love them solely to vex me.’

  ‘I rather like having on
ly daughters.’ Gray grinned and slapped Flint heartily on the back. ‘But then I have only two and mine aren’t hoydens. They are merely spirited, thanks entirely to my excellent training.’ Something Gray had abandoned the unpredictable life of a spy for five years ago for his first love: horses. He and Thea now raised thoroughbreds in their Suffolk home and were making quite a name for themselves in equine circles.

  Seb gaped and chuckled. ‘Like you trained your dog?’ All eyes flicked to the untrainable Trefor spread-eagled belly-up on the sofa, jewels shamelessly facing skyward, his glossy black coat now flecked with white around his face. ‘I thought old Fennimore was going to kill him this morning when he stole that sausage off his plate.’ Seb had only recently left the King’s Elite for pastures new. He had been expressly recruited by Sir Robert Peel to help build and establish a dedicated police force in London to combat crime. A very positive step forward as far as Hadleigh was concerned. As in everything, with the march of time the law was changing. The archaic and grossly unjust Bloody Code was all but gone, replaced by a more robust and humane system where prisons had been reformed and the death penalty was reserved only for the most heinous of crimes. They still had a way to go, of course, but change was in the air. Gathering momentum as it should. The public demanded it and forward-thinking politicians and judges, like himself, were forcing it through.

  ‘Old Fennimore loves that mutt. Just look at the pair of them.’ Like the dog, the newly retired former commander of the King’s Elite was sleeping soundly on the same sofa, Trefor’s head nestled comfortably in his lap. ‘Why else would he and Harriet have adopted not one, but four of Trefor’s pups?’

  ‘Hardly conclusive proof when we’ve all had Trefor’s pups foisted upon us over the years.’ Seb had three himself. One for each of his sons. Hadleigh had drawn the line at two, because like their snoring sire they had proved themselves to be thoroughly untrainable and brought more than their fair share of noise and chaos into his already noisy and chaotic house. Both his dogs were currently intently watching all the boys rehearsing a magic show over by the fireplace. Something they had been doing constantly since yesterday, when the travelling troupe of entertainers Penny had hired to divert the children had left them mesmerised by the unexplainable cosmic powers of the Great Rodolpho.