The king: His mail-order mate

Pride and sensibility

*Penny*

“You didn’t see the exciting part of the club at all?”

Having changed out of my evening attire into my nightdress and wrapper, I sit at the foot of Lucy's bed, my fingers buried in my cat's black fur. "Not so much as a peek. The door we entered led into a hallway that took us straight to the private dining room. We left the same way." Not exactly the same way, at least as far as moods were concerned. Something had been amiss with Kingsley. He seemed disgruntled, which is unusual after spending time with his friends.

"That is disappointing." Lucy takes a sip of the brandy I brought her. "I've always wondered what a gentlemen's club looks like, and I don't know why. I suppose because women aren't allowed."

I smile. "Eventually, we will be."

"Do you really think so?" She asks.

"Absolutely. A woman's money spends the same as a man's." I point out.

She shakes her head. "Mine never seems to. Always spends too quick."

"I wish you would let me help you invest some of it." I suspect people would be incredibly surprised to discover how much of the public works were funded by women investors.

"Investing is too much like gambling. It doesn't always pay off. M'dad liked to gamble, but he never had any luck at it. I could be the same. Just giving my hard-earned coins away, really." She says.

We have had this discussion a couple of times. Investing is one of the few avenues open to women that allows them an opportunity to be financially independent. Lucy is skeptical, even about the steadfast investments in which widows would place their inheritance to guarantee themselves a steady yearly income. "Well, if you ever change your mind, I can help ensure you're not just giving it away."

"Did the Alpha compliment your hair?" She asks.

Taking a sip of my own brandy, I feel the heat suffuse my cheeks as we shift the conversation to the topics Lucy prefers to discuss. "He doesn't notice things like that." Although it surprised me, it pleased me that he commented on my dress. When I was younger, I drew the attention of men, experienced lascivious gazes and, on a couple of occasions, even wandering hands. I learned it was best not to dress provocatively or in any manner that might distract a man from focusing on my words or professionalism. That attitude has served me well as the Alpha's secretary.

"Harry certainly liked the look of you," Lucy says, and I think I detect a measure of jealousy in her voice.

"He was being polite. I wouldn't read too much into his comment."

"I think he's rather handsome. Got lovely calves."

All male servants do. It's a requirement of service. "Are you keen on him?"

Lucy shrugs. "What do you think of the new servant, Gerard?"

I think what I do with each new employee: Will this be the one to bring me trouble, the one to recognize me, to reveal my past? When I sought a way to provide for my family years ago, I hadn't considered how far my choice would extend or that I would never know exactly whom it had reached. It had seemed innocent enough at the time, until I discovered I had absolutely no control over the influence of my actions. "Mr. Keating said he came highly recommended."

Lucy laughs. "I'm not asking your opinion on him as a worker, Penn. Do you fancy him as a man at all?"

"In my position, I don't think it's wise to get involved with staff."

"But would you want to?" She asks.

"That's beside the point." And if I were to get involved with anyone, I'd rather it be the Alpha, although I suspect his moral fiber wouldn't allow him to have any sort of personal relationship with someone in his employ. "And I have Sir Purrcival for company." The cat spends much of his time wandering through the kitchen to ensure it remains free of mice, but he's always on hand for a snuggle when I need it.

She looks curiously at me. "Don't you ever dream of a gent sweeping you off your feet?"

I give my friend an indulgent grin. "I'm too practical for such whimsy. I think a love that develops over time would be more reliable." I've seen Kingsley when he's out of sorts, when he grows impatient with someone who hasn't delivered what was promised. He doesn't gloat when successful, doesn't sulk when an investment doesn't go his way. While he might not like them, he sees each failure as an opportunity to learn, so he doesn't repeat the mistake. I'm familiar with every aspect of his character, and so it's unlikely he's managed to fool me into believing he's someone other than who he is. The same couldn't be said of all the people who have traipsed through my life, which is the reason I never seek out anyone who knew me before I became Penny Pettifur.

"I suspect you're right." Lucy sets her glass aside, draws her legs up, and hugs them tightly to her chest. "But still, that first blush of awareness should steal your breath."

That certainly happened the first time my gaze fell on Kingsley. I knew little about him before I walked into his office, expecting to answer an ad for an ancient Alpha, not a young, virile one with goals and ambitions he needed help organizing. I had been working for a grocer in the east end of town, helping him keep track of his inventory in between attending to customers. But I had noticed he had started studying me a little too intently. Then my landlord took a sudden interest in where I had lived before renting a room in his boardinghouse, and I knew it was best to move on. "How many times have you had your breath stolen, Lucy?"

"Too many to count, and it was lovely every time." She yawns. "I should probably turn in. Morning comes early."

As I slide off the bed, Sir Purrcival agilely leaps to the floor. "I should retire as well. I'll see you tomorrow."

When I return to my room, I settle beneath the covers, stuff my pillow behind my back, and begin reading A Tale of Two Cities. But the pages might as well be blank for their inability to hold my attention. My mind keeps drifting to my dinner at the club and everything I haven't shared with Lucy.

For the tiniest speck of time, when Kingsley's hand rested on mine, when he looked at me as though truly seeing me for the first time, hope flared within my breast, only to be extinguished when he deposited me like a wayward child in the car so he could enjoy the rest of his evening without my presence intruding upon it. I don't delude myself into thinking he's going anywhere other than into the arms of a disreputable woman.

He had a restlessness about him, the same edginess that bombarded me as the car moved through the streets. My skin felt too tight, my lungs too small to draw in all the air I needed. My body yearned to be stroked, touched, caressed. The secret spot between my legs fairly screamed for attention. There, within the confines of that vehicle, after drawing up the screen between me and the driver, I saw to my needs. It wasn’t easy with the volume of silk the seamstress used for my skirt, but I have never been one to shy away from a challenge.

Now it's impossible to concentrate because I keep seeing Kingsley pleasuring a woman. No, not a woman. Just as I had fantasized in the car to bring about my quick release, I see him pleasuring me. I envision his mouth trailing along my throat as he emits little growls of satisfaction. He loosens my fastenings and kisses the skin that is being slowly, methodically exposed. He tastes what no man has ever tasted, he...

With a groan, I throw back the covers. "This is ridiculous, Sir Purrcival." Curled at the foot of the bed, the cat barely opens his eyes. "I shan't be long." I snatch up my wrapper and draw it tightly around me. What I need is Jane Austen. I've gone too many nights without reading a romantic tale.

Taking my lamp, I make my way through the various familiar corridors, not at all

bothered by the hush of the house. I rather like it. Except I can sense the emptiness of the residence. He isn't yet home. It's odd how different the place seems with him in it, more alive, more vibrant, more substantial. Even when I'm not in the same room as he is, I'm aware of his presence. It's been like that since the moment I began working for him and has only strengthened over the years.

Therefore, I know I won't be disturbing him or running into him in the library. Not that he objects to me taking books from his domain. Shortly after I began working for him, he gave me permission to read his entire collection of tomes. I've never seen the like, all those books in a residence, in a family home. My father would have been in heaven. As it is, he's likely in hell. Although I don't want to think about that. But then, I never do.

I walk into the library, set the lamp down on a table near the shelves that house novels, and wander along, trailing my fingers over the spines. So many books. I'll never have a chance to read them all and wonder how many might be overlooked by future generations. How many might be added to the collection? At the Alpha's ancestral estate, the library is three floors high, with a wrought-iron spiral staircase that I've climbed numerous times. I love that chamber. This one I merely treasure. My dream is to have a cottage where every room has a wall of books. The small fortune I'm accumulating ensures I'll have it when I'm no longer employed by the Alpha, when we part ways, when I can no longer pretend my indifference to him.

I spot the book I seek on a higher shelf. Not that high. Surely, I won't need the ladder stored behind a hidden door if I just rise up on my toes and reach, reach...

A large hand shoots past me, a hand the palm of which I remember from our encounter earlier in the evening was a little rough, like fine sandpaper. "Which one? Pride and Prejudice or Sense and Sensibility?"

The low, seductive voice sounds so near my ear that it could be the whisper of a lover. God help me, but I wish it was.