Page 31 of Yule Be Mine

Chapter Twelve

The intricacies of getting Penelope into his apartment at The Grafton occurred to Yule only when the carriage pulled up in front of the three-story brick residence. Yule’s past amorous encounters had always been undertaken in the lady’s house, if she were a widow, or at a discrete inn outside of London is she was not. Never had he attempted to smuggle a lady into his own digs. The Grafton, while not nearly as strict in its rules about such goings on as the Albany, would definitely frown on such illicit doings. So getting his betrothed into the structure, sight unseen, might take more ingenuity than Yule had counted on. He sat pondering the situation, wondering what repercussions would descend upon him if they were caught going inside.

“What’s wrong, Yule?” Penelope leaned forward, gazing out at the tall building. “We do need to hurry a bit if we’re to be back home before Mama and Papa return.”

“Well, the problem is, my dear, that ladies are not allowed into gentlemen’s digs. If you’re caught going in—” He rolled his eyes, thinking of the scandal that might incur. “—I could be tossed out on my ear, with no recourse whatsoever.”

She cocked her head. “We won’t be living here when we’re married, will we?”

Yule shook his head. “No, I’ll ask Grandfather if he has a small estate we can take for the time being.” If all of his cousins did their parts and married by next August, he’d own the property outright as his spoils for the ongoing marriage wager.

She flashed him a grin. “Then what does it matter if they put you out? You’ll be leaving shortly any way.”

Taken aback by her unfailing logic, Yule had to chuckle. He’d not thought of that. Leave it to his cunning wife-to-be. “And so I will. Very well.” He opened the door, still glancing around to see if anyone noted them. “Let us go in quickly. We don’t want your reputation ruined regardless.”

Penelope jumped down from the carriage and took his arm. “Lead on, MacDuff.”

Yule bit back a sigh. Macbeth was such an ill-omened play. To evoke its ghost did not seem wise at the least. However, he dutifully led her up the sidewalk to The Grafton’s entry, hurrying just a bit. No need to tempt Fate. At the door, he drew out his key and braced himself for the doorman’s questions. Harrup couldn’t forbid him entry to the building, although he would likely report that Yule had entered with a woman. Even though that woman was his fiancée, this was going to elicit talk.

Poking his head inside, Yule glanced around, ready for the onslaught of questions. Amazingly, the entry hall was empty. With the speed of a horse on Derby Day, Yule pulled Penelope inside and closed the door. He put his finger to his lips then tugged her toward the central marble staircase.

“Yes, my lord. I will have it summoned immediately.” Harrup’s voice exploded in the silence.

Yule clamped his fingers around Penelope’s hand and took off up the staircase at a run.

The doorman had to be coming from one of the first-floor tenant’s rooms, which gave them almost no time to climb to the second floor without being seen. Somehow Penelope kept stride with him and they turned the corner just as Harrup appeared calling, “Who is that?”

“Mr. Quartermain, Harrup,” Yule called down, again motioning for Penelope to be quiet.

“Oh, very good, sir.” The words drifted up as Harrup hurried outside, most likely to order a carriage for the first floor tenant.

“Come on.” Yule heaved a sigh of relief as he took Penelope’s hand and started up the stairs once more.

“How high up do you live?” she whispered.

“The third floor.”

She nodded and they continued climbing until they stood at the next landing.

“This way.” Yule led her down the left-hand corridor to the door at the far end on the right. “This is it. Number 309.” He jangled the keys, looking for the correct one. His fingers were all thumbs now. Ah, at last. With one final look around, Yule turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open. A sudden noise at the end of the corridor had him pulling Penelope inside and into his arms.

She looked up at him, her smile widening. “I always knew you were a forceful one.”

Yule groaned and stepped back.

“Good afternoon, sir.” The muffled, low tones of his valet, Shaw, brought Yule to a halt. “You are back earlier than you anticipated.”

Before the servant could put in an appearance, Yule thrust Penelope behind the screen meant to divide the room into both living and dining rooms.

“Yes, I did return sooner than I believed, Shaw.” Yule allowed the man to help him off with his coat, furiously wondering whether he should confide in the valet or send him off on an errand that would keep him out of the flat for the next two or three hours. At last discretion won out. Shaw didn’t need to know every bit of his business—at least not yet. This evening, when the man was cleaning up in the bedroom, he would likely require an explanation. “Miss St. Claire had a megrim, so I took her home. I’ll call ’round there this evening to see if she’s feeling better. Meanwhile, I believe I will nap for a while, so I won’t require your services until I dress for dinner. Why don’t you take the rest of the day? It is Boxing Day, after all. Consider an extra half-day as part of your present.”

“Thank you, sir. That is kind of you.” Shaw seemed genuinely touched. “Allow me to help you into your banyan.”

Before Yule could protest, Shaw had him stripped naked and was slipping his blue silk robe over his shoulders. “There you are, Mr. Quartermain. Will there be anything else?”

Pulling the banyan around him and tying it firmly, Yule waved the valet away. “No, this is fine. Go enjoy yourself, Shaw. Merry Christmas.”

The valet hurried into the dressing room with the clothing and Yule peeked around the screen, about to pull Penelope toward the bedroom, when he stopped, his jaw almost hitting his chest.