XIV
PENELOPE did not let herself go until she was safely in her rooms. Once alone, she shrieked into her pillow. Angry tears followed too. What the hell did he think he was doing? Didn't he understand that his alternatives were worse than her present? She cried long and hard before finally gripping her nerves tight. Penelope meant what she said. She wouldn't let him fire her.
The days creeped along with haste, as if Father Time understood her predicament and wanted a laugh. She couldn't understand how the servants knew, but Penelope knew they did. There was respect between her and her staff now, so the stares and whispers weren't as naked as before. Still, there were questions behind their glances. The tension was thick at Hawthorne. Would she stay or would she go? Everyone wanted to know.
Curiously, Lord Hawthorne avoided her. There were no summons to his study or tutorials on whatever tasks needed doing. He stayed away from her. It made Penelope wonder what he had up his sleeve. It turned out her employer was banking on the element of surprise. One day, Penelope caught him in her room. He was staring out her window. Penelope gasped.
"Sorry. Did I scare you?"
"Do you make a habit of turning up in people's rooms uninvited?"
"Necessary evil," replied the earl. "You know, considering."
Penelope crossed her arms. "What do you want?"
Lord Hawthorne sighed. "I'd like to stop playing this game. It's been twelve days."
"And?"
"I see you still haven't arranged your things."
"I told you, I'm not leaving."
"Miss Redwood."
"Sir."
"Are you really going to force my hand?"
"Are you really going to turn me out by force?"
His jaw tightened. "I'm not an animal."
"I disagree. I know a priggish, self-righteous cow when I see one."
He drew in a deep breath. "Life is not perfect, Miss Redwood. Sometimes, one must make sacrifices."
"Don't lecture me about sacrifices as if I am a child."
The Earl's eyes glowed with fury. "I thought you didn't have a problem calling an apple an apple."
"Meaning?"
"You're acting like a fucking child."
Penelope's left eye twitched. "Get out of my room."
"Miss Redwood–"
"Out."
Surprisingly, the Earl obeyed. Penelope resisted the urge to stew like a child in her room before getting on with her work. She told herself she was beyond being petty and childish about the whole thing, but she couldn't help it. Penelope decided to return the favor and visit his rooms next.
She did not expect the Earl to emerge from the washroom. A towel hung around his waist. Penelope swallowed.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
Penelope didn't flinch. "I thought I might return the favor."
"Get out." His voice was stone. "Do you have any idea what people would think if they knew you were inside my room?"
"No one knows I'm here."
"You're undoing everything I'm trying to do for you," he hissed.
"Is the problem really what people might think?"
"Yes!"
"Or is it what you want me to do?" Penelope asked. She took a step closer to him.
"What are you talking about?" he growled.
"You're so afraid to touch me." Her words did not even reach a whisper. "You're afraid of what you want to do to me." Desire was beginning to swirl inside of her. Her eyes grazed hungrily over his semi-nakedness, lapping up taut muscles and broad shoulders before ending at his waist. That delicious, heady haze was beginning to sink over her. She wanted to undo his towel. "Admit it."
"That's a bald-faced lie."
"Really?" A seductress' whisper. She looked into his eyes. They were getting hotter and blacker by the second.
"Really," he echoed. His voice was taut.
They both watched as her fingertips gently grazed his stomach. ""You don't like this?"
He was very close now. He was hot against her. He was hers. There were lips against her ear. "You must stop this," they said.
She did not stop. Greedy fingers slid up up and down; exploring, drinking, eating. And then they undid his towel.
"Penelope." His voice seared her. Her fingers snaked down until they took him into her hands.
"Look at me." He obeyed. His face was choked with lust. "I want you to remember this. I want you to remember that you are firing me because you're scared you want this, not because you want to protect me."
And then she left.
***
HARRY took twenty minutes too long to calm down after she left. Even afterwards, he vibrated with longing. He couldn't concentrate on the rest of his tasks that day and it was infuriating. He kept thinking about her. The whisper of her lips against his skin. Gliding fingertips. Drunk, starving eyes. The feel of her hand around him. It was delicious and agonizing. Harry waited for these feverish yearnings to melt away. He wasn't a little boy that had never been touched by a woman before, surely he could control himself. Harry found that he could not.
When he dreamt of her illicitly purring beneath him, Harry woke up livid. Why would she do this to him? How was she doing this to him?
Moreover, why couldn't she appreciate what he was doing for her? It was bad enough that everyone thought he was sleeping with her. Now, she'd probably been seen leaving his room. They didn't even have plausible deniability anymore. Of course, Harry was most angry with himself. He could've shouted at her. He could've pushed her away. But he didn't.
Harry squashed down a thread of heat as he thought again of those gliding fingertips. It would've been one thing if she had just been teasing him...but he saw it. Felt it. She wanted him too. Even now, in the midst of his anger, that knowledge sent a gratifying rush down to the tips of toes. Harry shrugged it off. He couldn't have her, no matter how much he wanted too. And damn her for making him feel for a moment that he could.
That day, he paced his study trying to think of a way to get rid of her. He cornered her in the hall once he knew he came up with a plan that might work. As he approached, he felt a flush of anger as the events of yesterday played in his mind once again. He forced a polite smile. He had to be nice. He was the only one of them who was sane. If he barked, she would bite, and where would that leave them? Once his housekeeper saw him, she stiffened. She was having none of it. "I have something to attend to," she said brusquely.
"Seeing that I'm your employer, I think whatever task you have can wait."
Miss Redwood tried to leave anyway, but he blocked her path. She sighed. "What do you want?"
"I'll give you one thousand pounds. And a cottage."
"No, absolutely not."
"Why not?" Harry felt irritation cutting deep. "You'll have your independence and a sizable allowance until you figure out what you want to do. It's perfect."
"And what will people think knowing you gave me an allowance and a cottage?" she asked drily.
Harry hadn't thought of that. "You could stay in the Capitol for a spell. People might only suspect that your mother banished you there."
"But my mother will know the truth. She thinks we're involved." Miss Redwood sounded wistful. Although it was unreasonable, he hated that the thought of them together made her sad. "Our relationship is already in tatters. If I move away, it'll never be the same."
"It will mend."
"You don't know that," Miss Redwood said softly. She sounded so forlorn and vulnerable that Harry had to stop himself from doing something absolutely insane, starting and stopping with a comforting kiss. What the hell was wrong with him? The sooner this woman left, the better. "I can't do that to her. I just can't."
"Miss Redwood, look at me." She looked at him. Harry's heart gave a lurch. "You cannot stay here."
Just like that, all her softness hardened. His housekeeper straightened her shoulders. "Then you'll have to toss me out."
Miss Redwood turned on her heel to walk away, but Harry wasn't having it either. "We aren't finished!" She walked away faster. "Miss Redwood!" The minx accelerated into a mild jog. Harry reached for her wrist, and she moved away. Afterwards, she tripped over her feet and landed on the floor. Harry's heart caught in his throat. "I'm so sorry." He tried to assist her, but she slapped him away.
"Don't touch me," she snapped.
"I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to—"
"--If you don't mean to throw me out, please just leave me alone!" she shouted. Her eyes were blazing. She quickly got to her feet and escaped.
Harry sighed. An ache was beginning to pulse in his temples. Why did every meeting between them go so horribly wrong?
***
PENELOPE was so angry with the Earl, she did not notice the monstrous ache in her wrist until that evening. Her staff was too vigilant. Perhaps it came with the occupation, or perhaps prying eyes were reserved for her, but a keen one noticed her wrist and offered to ice it. Penelope didn't refuse. She winced as her lower tended to the wound.
"I'm sorry, ma'am."
"It's not your fault," Penelope said through grit teeth. After another painful exhale, Penelope cursed. "God, I hate him."
Another maid would not have said a word. They both knew who she was referring to. But, for some reason, this one looked up. "Ma'am?"
"Your employer," Penelope said. "He's the one responsible for this wound."
"I'm so sorry." Her voice was very soft and apologetic, but Penelope had no real way of knowing whether it was real.
"Like I said, it's not your fault."
The next couple days passed without incident, but Penelope could feel tension brewing in the air. She knew something was going to happen. At around noon on the fateful, fourteenth day, she was summoned to his study. The Earl was standing with his back against his desk. His eyes were smooth and cold.
"There is a carriage waiting outside," he said.
"I'm not getting in it."
"It has all of your things inside," he continued. "And if you try to go and get your things and leave the carriage, the footman won't let you."
"I can do without my things."
"In the carriage there is a satchel measuring five hundred pounds, letters of reference, and the addresses of a man and family that might want you. There is also the address of a townhouse I keep in the Capitol as well as a cottage in—"
"--I'm not leaving," she said curtly.
The Earl only blinked at her. "If you stay here, there will be no pay. I'll have my valet and staff resume your duties in the meantime. You can eat, I suppose, and sleep in your rooms. Though I wonder how you will manage with one dress." He smiled coldly. "Considering."
"I know how to wash my things."
"And if you ever leave the premises, for any reason, dawn or dusk, I will know. You won't be allowed back into the Castle and whatever happens to you will be your problem."
Penelope felt her heart drop. "So, I shall be a prisoner?"
"In a prison of your own making? Yes, I suppose so."
"You...bastard."
The Earl smiled coldly. "If my guess about an impending temper tantrum is correct, I would do it outside. Your carriage is leaving in..." He checked his watch. "Five minutes."
Tears fell down Penelope's cheeks. She hastily wiped them. "Tears will not save you, Miss Redwood."
"Of course not. You clearly detest me."
"Detest you?" There was something strange in his voice.
"Why else would you take so much joy in destroying me? Especially when this arrangement does nothing to hurt your reputation?"
"Miss Redwood—"
"--you're finally getting the one thing you wanted since the day you set eyes on me." Penelope laughed bitterly. "You are finally getting rid of me."
"For God's sake," he snapped. "Are you really so blind?"
"Blind?" she echoed.
"I'm not doing this because I'm afraid of your touch or because I'm self-righteous or because I hate you!" he exploded. "I am doing this because I care about you."
The revelation crackled between them. Penelope could only stare. "No that's not—"
"--I read the filth that they wrote about you. Or, more accurately, the woman behind it. You also needn't worry about that either. I put a stop to it."
Penelope's eyebrows raised. The authors of salacious gossip rags were always anonymous and their identities were well-protected. "You found her?" she breathed.
"She'll say our relationship was a lie in the next issue," he affirmed. "I made sure of it." His face was no longer impregnably cold. It was so..tender. Penelope's stomach clenched. She'd never been so affected by someone's gaze. "I cannot let you stay here and continue to be tarnished because of me. And to what end? When you decide our arrangement is finished, I will have gotten what I wanted and you will be irreparably ruined."
"The damage is done, Sir. I thank you for your consideration but the next print will not undo what so many are thinking."
"I cannot right past wrongs. But I can try to control the damage." There was the slightest shiver in that deep baritone of his. "Please let me."
She drew closer to him, like a moth to a flame. She could not help it. "Do you remember what you told me in the kitchen when I was crying?"
The Earl sighed. "Miss Redwood, please."
"You said I'd land on my feet, no matter what. Do you still believe that?"
He was gazing at her with such an aching bittersweetness. "Just...let me help you."
"I don't care about what people are saying about me. I want to stay here...with you. And I won't forgive you if you don't let me. So please..." Penelope clasped and unclasped her fingers. "Please let me stay."