He had wandered. He had paced. He had stood at the window and looked out at the gardens. He had tried to read the newssheets, but there was nothing of interest at the beginning where most of the important information was printed so he did not bother to read further.
Not even the book he had started reading a few days ago, that had kept him entertained, held any interest.
What the bloody hell was wrong with him?
It was because of her.
He should never have kissed Penelope. He should have no knowledge of how her lips felt against his or how her engaging him, taking and giving, could heat the blood in his veins.
He still ached for her. Kissing was not enough. He wanted to caress every part of her being. He wanted her naked before him as he brought her pleasure over and over, teaching her all the ways one might gain release before he took her, making her his own, binding her to him forever.
“Bloody hell!”
He needed a mistress.
To hell with the fact that he had innocent cousins living in his home. It wasn’t as if he brought his lovers here. He visited them, in their homes, and there was no reason why the practice could not continue.
It was the only answer because it was not possible for Penelope to be his lover, unless he married her, and there was no way his body was going to gain peace again without engaging in intimacy.
Except, there was always the option that he could take care of matters as he had done in his youth. That had worked well for a lad of sixteen who had urgings but no female to relieve that aching need, but now that he knew what it was like to be buried in a woman, a hand was simply a means to an end.
At the chime of the clock in the corridor, Henry looked at his watch. It was teatime and soon a gaggle of misses would descend upon his home and for that reason, he opened the door to his library so that he might hear their arrival. But more importantly, he wanted to know when Penelope arrived.
He needed to see her but feared that she would greet him with a slap, which he did not want to have to explain to his cousins.
Nor would she. Therefore, she would likely save the slap for when they were alone.
He grinned. He simply would not be alone with her.
In fact, maybe he should join the women for tea. It was what his cousins had hoped for since they were set on matchmaking.
A useless endeavor, of course, because he did not want a silly, innocent miss. No, the only innocent he craved was Penelope.
Blast!
As the voices carried down the corridor, Henry waited until he was certain that they had all been seated and that tea had been delivered. He’d not heard Penelope’s voice but she could have arrived with the others and with so many talking it was quite possible she either didn’t speak or the others were louder than her.
After checking his appearance in the mirror and finding that all was set to rights, at least on the outside, he strode down the corridor only to be brought up short with one question from a guest.
“Where is Lady Penelope? Is she usually not visiting in the afternoons?”
Why wasn’t she here?
“She sent word that she was suffering from a megrim,” Judith answered.
Henry frowned and hoped that it wasn’t something terribly serious.
“We assumed there was another reason,” one of the guests giggled.
“Such as?” Bernice asked.
“I suppose you would not have heard if you have not left your house yet today.”
“Heard what?” Damaris asked with concern.
“Your cousin and Lady Penelope were seen last evening, in his carriage.”
“He offered her a ride home after we left Athena’s Salon,” Judith explained while Henry’s stomach tightened. He could only hope that they had only been seen in his carriage, which was not nearly as damaging as it would be had anyone seen them kissing.
