Page 51 of Love in the Time of Scandal
She hadn’t, either. It had begun so splendidly, and then suddenly burst into flames and exploded. That was partly because she hadn’t thought it through well enough; she hadn’t considered how manipulative her actions might look to him. She was new to this, and marriage was turning out to be more complicated than expected. Or perhaps the problem was that she didn’t really know him, and he was far more reserved. Hadn’t she called him coldhearted and arrogant? For a while, on the settee, he hadn’t seemed so at all, but as soon as she asked for the money, his demeanor became chilly and imperious. “I made a mistake,” she said quietly. “My only hope was to be warm and welcoming, and not start an argument as so often happens with us. It was not my intention at all to—toseduceyou in order to get money—”
“I should not have said that.” He exhaled loudly. “I was tired and caught off guard, and I spoke without thinking. Forgive me.”
After a moment she gave a nod. Itwasthe sort of thing one said without thinking, in a temper. Lord knew she was prone to the same misjudgments from time to time. As for whether or not he was only sorry for saying it aloud . . . she preferred not to know. “Thank you for giving me the money.”
“You made a reasonable point; you should have some claim on the funds that came from your family. It was the amount, in banknotes, that startled me, and that made me fearful of your reason for wanting it.” He paused. “I hope that someday we can trust each other more. Our marriage didn’t begin under the best of circumstances, but we have equal roles in making it a pleasant one.”
Penelope thought about that last bit. In the happy marriages she knew, there was trust between husband and wife. She had told herself that Benedict was shallow and arrogant, but he’d been chipping away at that image for some time. Abigail had hinted there was more to his story than met the eye, and that she should give him a chance; while her sister might be more trusting, she was also usually right. And no one could question Abigail’s loyalty or motives. Moreover, Olivia wanted her to be happy with Benedict, and keeping Olivia’s secret was becoming a serious obstacle to that.
“I gave my word not to tell a soul,” she began. “You must give me the same promise, or I cannot tell you why I needed the money.”
“I give my word,” he said slowly.
Penelope took a deep breath. Surely Olivia would understand. “The money is for a friend—a friend in desperate trouble. I don’t know exactly why, but Clary has some hold over her. He’s a vile, despicable man, you know, and I would do anything to help her get free of him. The night you intervened so fortuitously, I had gone to try to rescue her from him. I—I believe he meant to compel her to—to—to allow him—” She bit her lip, blushing. Benedict’s eyes darkened and he gave a nod of understanding. “He caught me and refused to let me leave with her.” She stopped, then added, “I was never so happy in all my life to see anyone as I was to see you, when you opened the door. I almost gave a huzzah when you punched him in the stomach.”
“He deserved far worse.”
She had never seen his face so still and dangerous. “I heartily agree,” she said. “If I thought I could get away with it, it would give me great pleasure to shoot him.” Benedict’s mouth curled, but the grim smile didn’t reach his eyes. “My friend came to me in great distress, saying she had discovered a way to end his influence over her. It requires some funds, though, and she didn’t have them. So I offered to give her the money.” She raised her chin. “I don’t care if she ever repays it. Just knowing she’s safe from that horrible man will be payment enough.”
He studied her with a curious expression. “You’re very loyal.”
“Because I gave the money without knowing what she means to do with it?”
Slowly he shook his head. “Because you kept her secret, at great cost to yourself, though you don’t even know what it is. What if you discover it’s something trivial?”
“I’m sure it’s not,” she said at once. “I’ve known her all my life, and she’s not the sort to make a fuss over something minor.”
He inclined his head, ceding the point. “Why wouldn’t you tell your father it was Clary who tried to ruin you?”
“I couldn’t explain about Clary without confessing her part as well. If Papa knew about that, he would forbid me to see her again, and now more than ever she needs a friend.”
“And she has no one else?”
“What does that matter?” Penelope exclaimed in surprise. “Should I leave her to Clary’s mercy, hoping someone else will help her to spare myself the chance of getting in trouble?”
“No, I—” He seemed taken aback by her words. “I mean, has she no one else better able to help? Someone able to challenge or rebuff Clary?”
Penelope heaved a bitter sigh. If only Jamie had been in town and not taken himself off to places unknown. Jamie was the only person who might have come to Olivia’s defense, particularly if Penelope persuaded her to confide in him. But her useless brother had gone off, and not even Papa was certain where he was rusticating at the moment, or so he’d said when she asked him to send her letter to Jamie. “Not at the moment, no. So I did the best I could.”
Benedict looked at her for a long, long moment. “I see.”
It wasn’t quite a declaration of support and understanding, but it also wasn’t a scolding. And now he knew. She was surprised to feel some relief at having told him. “I don’t plan to make a habit of giving away large sums of money to everyone who asks,” she said. “In case you were worried I would beggar us.”
This time his smile looked real, if a little rueful. “I wasn’t.” He hesitated, then added, “Thank you for telling me.”
“Yes, well.” She made a show of looking around the room once more, as if the woodwork was of great interest to her. “I don’t want to spend my life arguing with you. That’s not really the sort of marriage I want.”
“Nor I.” He strode across the room, but instead of going out to call Mr. Grace as she expected, he closed the door. “I want to make you happy.”
“I don’t think my father would really kill you if you didn’t, despite what he told you.” He blinked and she waved one hand. “I listened in when you came to sign the marriage contract. I wanted to know what he was saying about me.”
“Ah. He did warn me about that,” said Benedict wryly. “But it isn’t because of your father that I want to make you happy.”
Against her will, something hopeful fluttered in her chest. She tamped it down and forced a disinterested expression to her face. “Then why? Your vision of marriage is quite different from my own, as I recall. You wanted a quiet, sensible wife who wouldn’t torment you, while I...”
“Want passion and adventure and love,” he finished for her, when she simply ended with a shrug. “I remember. I thought you were mad, but the strange thing is...” He reached out and took her hand. “Now I find myself thinking it’s not such a deranged idea after all.”
Penelope gave him a measured look. “Now you want love and passion and adventure, too?”
