Lady at last

by Annabelle Anders

  “I know you’ve never set your cap for a husband. You’ve never included yourself in many of the feminine pursuits other ladies do. And you are afraid you’ll miss out.” He hoped he was wrong, but he could not think of anything else that would cause Penelope Crone to become so frail and delicate.

  Except she did not look as though she were wasting away tonight.

  “Oh, no, no, no! Hugh! Of course, I’m not dying. I’m healthy as a horse! Always have been.” She smiled at him brightly but then bit her lip.

  “Then tell me what it is.” He was relieved to hear such conviction in her voice regarding her good health. Thank God she was not truly dying. As soon as the thought had entered his mind, he’d felt a darkness settle upon him.

  But there was something. I’m not an idiot.

  Her smile held for a few more seconds before fading away completely. “I am not ill, Hugh.” She looked down at her hands and plucked at her gloves abstractly. “Something happened when we were at Summer’s Park. Something happened after the baby was born.”

  Something had changed inside of him as well. Was it possible Penelope experienced similar feelings? “Seeing Cortland and his duchess with their newborn son changed something inside of me, too.”

  She glanced up in surprise. “It changed something inside of you as well? What did it change? Are you saying that it made you question your decision to remain a bachelor? I thought you said you were simply waiting for the right lady?”

  And then he saw it in her eyes. A dawning recognition of what he’d been feeling. Hugh leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on her lips. Such a delightful mix of intelligence and naïveté would need to be handled carefully.

  And passion. Yes, Penelope had passion.

  It rose to the surface when he deepened their kiss.

  But this was not the right place for such activity, and he was frustrated from being interrupted. He pulled away and simply looked in her eyes.

  “Since the day my father passed all those years ago, I’ve felt an intense pressure from all those around me to marry and secure the title.” Penelope went to speak, but he placed a finger on her lips. “I’ve never felt any pressure from you. I’m speaking of my family, my father’s colleagues, and eventually, my own friends and acquaintances to some extent or another.” He smiled ruefully. “But never from you. In fact, one of the things I’ve always appreciated about you was your absolute honesty regarding your convictions and the way you’ve stood up to everybody in order to follow them.”

  “But I’ve changed—”

  “—your mind. I know. I see things differently now as well. I see you differently, Penelope. It is as though there was a paradigm shift at Cortland’s last February.”

  “And how do you see me now, Hugh?” Penelope bit her lip anxiously as she looked up at him.

  This was the tricky part. Hugh had not reached the ancient age of thirty without knowing a trap question when he saw it. He would have to wade very carefully here. All the while remembering who he was talking to.

  “I see you as an independent woman who has perhaps realized that she might one day like to become a mother.”

  Her jaw dropped but he went right on speaking.

  “I see you as a lady of refinement and intelligence. A woman who is trustworthy and of an even temperament—most of the time.”

  “I thought you said you were waiting for the right woman,” she reminded him.

  “That’s the devil of it, Penelope. It’s very possible that that woman only exists in my imagination.” Hugh tiptoed through this minefield. “And now that I’ve decided to marry, I’ve changed the criteria for what I’m wanting in a wife. You, Penelope, have caused me to realize what I really need.

  “Augusta Heights was a mess when I got up there. In time, I’m certain, I could have brought it around to some of its former glory, but you accomplished significant improvements in the matter of just a few weeks. I’ve already received a few reports from the new steward that show profits in the future. And one of the neighbors sent me a letter thanking me for the wonderful changes I’ve made. He is ever so grateful that I’ve provided employment for so many.” It was rather liberating to give her credit where credit was due.

  “It was nothing.” She shrugged.

  Hugh took both of her hands in his. “But it wasn’t nothing, Penelope. I’m a reasonably intelligent person but the difference between you and I, is that you are a doer. You are gifted with a special talent for making things happen.”

  “I will not become your estate manager,” she said through gritted teeth.

  Hugh raised one arm and ducked behind it. “Of course not! Aren’t you listening to me, Pen? I want you to be my wife!”

  She looked at him and scowled. “So that I can manage your business affairs for you?”

  “With, me, Pen. With me.” Oh, hell, he was bungling this in a grand way. Hugh dropped to one knee in front of her, still holding her hands and looked up as earnestly as he possibly could.

  “Penelope Crone, will you make me the happiest of men and consent to become my wife?”

  But she looked disappointed. Surely, she’d not wanted him to spout romantic nonsense?

  “Umm… Yes?”

  Hugh tilted his head questioningly. “Not exactly the enthusiastic answer I’d hoped for.”

  She gave him a pained smile. “Not exactly what I expected either.”

  Hugh pushed off the ground and sat beside her again. “I’ve been lucky all these years, Penelope. Escorting Miss Radcliffe around the last few weeks has convinced me that one of these days my luck will run out. One of these days, if I continue as I have, I’m going to find myself saddled with one of those empty-headed debutantes and her mama. Forever! I can’t do that, Pen. I mean, I actually like you.” Oh, that painted it up spectacularly. Hugh ran his index finger along the length of her arm from shoulder to wrist. He watched as she shivered. “And now I discover that we have this, as well.”

  “I said I would, Hugh. I will, that is, marry you.” She sounded even less enthusiastic than she had before. “Thank you.”

  What was wrong with her?

  “You won’t regret this.” He leaned in and kissed her again. But she seemed to have lost interest.

  “When?” she asked.

  “When?”

  “When shall we marry? Do you wish to announce it this evening?”

  Of course, she is a doer.

  “Best to speak with your father first. I’ll have a talk with him and after that, we can set a date. Is that acceptable to you?” Somehow, this wasn’t playing out the way he’d imagined.

  Speaking with her father, he knew, was a mere formality. She’d been making her own decisions for nearly a decade: her impromptu visit to Augusta Heights had been indicative of that. Most likely, her father would be ecstatic to relinquish any remaining responsibility he felt toward her.

  She nodded.

  “But you look as though your dog just died!” He through his hands into the air. She was exasperating. Did he really wish a betrothal with this woman? “If you don’t wish to marry me, tell me now and we can forget this conversation ever happened.”

  “Oh, no, no! Hugh, of course, I wish to marry you. It’s just that I’m a little overwhelmed, I guess. So much is changing so quickly.” It was she who took his hand this time. “Of course, I wish to marry you.” She leaned in and gave him a dry kiss on the lips.

  As she went to move away, Hugh stopped her. Pulling her up against him, he found her mouth again with his own and coaxed the seam of her lips open.

  “This matters as well, Penelope,” he growled when he felt one of her hands reach up to his neck. After exploring the soft flesh behind her lips, and the smooth edges of her teeth, he moved to the corner of her mouth, and then along the graceful line of her neck.

  Wisps of golden red hair tickled his nose and eyes. She had the most incredible skin, so pale and soft. Without realizing he’d even done so, one of his hands had found her left breast. Re
membering how timid she’d been the night before, he drew circles around it gently. Nice, plump, perfect flesh hid beneath the material of her bodice.

  Oh, yes, this mattered a great deal.

  “The orchestra is playing again,” she murmured. “I promised this dance to someone else.”

  “Who?” Hugh did not really care. She’d just promised her person to him.

  “Um, I think it was…” She was trying to glance at the dance card tied to her wrist.

  “Tsk, tsk, tsk, no cheating, Penelope,” His mouth now trailed down her shoulder, along bared skin and then lower, along the silk of her glove. When he reached the dance card, he pulled at one string with his teeth and it dropped off her wrist and onto the ground.

  “But he will be looking for me. What will he think?”

  “If he saw you walk outside with me, he will know exactly what to think.” Hugh grinned before sitting back and breaking their embrace. He supposed he ought to allow her to return. As long as he’d known her, Penelope had always avoided scandal. She’d been a very good girl up until now. He ought not to corrupt her completely.

  Yet.

  Penelope had retrieved the dance card and was attempting to tie it back around her wrist. “I’m to partner…” She squinted as she read the card. “Er… Darlington.”

  Rome Spencer.

  Hugh confirmed as much as he tied the card for her. “Just so he knows…”

  “Just so he knows what?”

  “That you are no longer his for the taking.” If Hugh had to have a discussion with the man himself, he would do so. He knew Darlington had been thrown over last winter. Hugh had watched as the man danced with Penelope before.

  Ah, well, Darlington was too late.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Penelope thought for a moment that Rose was going to burst into tears when she informed her of the engagement.

  “Oh, Pen, thank God! I’ve been so very anxious for us, for you!” She gave Penelope a firm hug and squeeze and then jumped up onto Penelope’s bed and sat cross-legged. “Was he angry when you told him? Oh, I wish I could have been a fly on the wall, watching. Did he remember bedding you? Tell me everything!”

  Penelope would have been happy to return to her room without having to suffer an inquisition from Rose. If she had any other maid, she could have done so.

  “He is going to visit Father tomorrow before making any announcements.” Penelope stepped out of her slippers and then turned her back on Rose. “Help me out of this. I want nothing more than to put on my nightdress and fall into bed.”

  Rose crawled off the bed and commenced assisting Penelope out of her dress. “You don’t sound very happy for a newly engaged lady. Did you discuss the necessity for haste? Will he obtain a special license, then?”

  “We’ll discuss that tomorrow. We haven’t made any plans yet.”

  “Well, you’ve made a baby, my friend, so Danbury had better get a move on.” Rose could be intolerable!

  Penelope snatched the night dress from her maid. Pulling the garment over her head, she mumbled into the fabric, “He doesn’t know, Rose, He doesn’t know about the baby yet.”

  Silence.

  Penelope poked her head through the top of the night dress and watched for Rose’s reaction.

  Nothing.

  “I tried,” she said. “But it’s very difficult to interrupt a person who is saying what you want to hear with something you don’t really wish to say!” And that was the absolute truth.

  “So, he proposed without even knowing about… all of it?”

  “He wishes to marry me for my intelligence and because he likes me. He believes that if he doesn’t wed me, or I imagine somebody like me, then he will be trapped into marriage to someone he doesn’t even like by a determined mama.” Which was precisely how she’d rationalized her actions a few months ago. She would not tell Rose about the physical aspect of his needs.

  Although Hugh was right. That aspect mattered, indeed.

  “Well,” Rose huffed. She then disappeared into the dressing room with Penelope’s gown for a few moments without saying another word. When she reappeared, Penelope had already climbed into the large bed that had been hers since childhood.

  “Had he been drinking?” Rose finally asked.

  Penelope shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.” She hadn’t tasted any spirits on his breath. “He merely said the timing was right for him now. And so, I said yes. And then we—”

  Rose’s eyes narrowed. “Have you considered how he is going to feel when he discovers the truth? Will he believe you even? What if he thinks you’re bringing someone else’s child into this marriage?”

  Penelope waved her hand, as though to dismiss such a concern. “He will believe me.” Except, well, she hadn’t really considered this new scenario through properly. Would he?

  “You’ve got to tell him.”

  “What if he changes his mind about wanting to marry me then? What if he doesn’t believe he is the father of my baby?”

  “He’ll hate you for the rest of your lives, Penelope. Do you want that?”

  “Of course, I don’t want for him to hate me! I’m marrying him, aren’t I?”

  But it was a legitimate concern. Hugh had fought against the notion of marriage for so very long, if he discovered that she had plotted to trap him from the very beginning, well… That was not a very happy thought at all.

  Because she had plotted!

  He was happy enough now, thinking this was all his idea, but how would he feel when he learned the truth?

  Would he cry off if she told him before the wedding?

  The next morning, Penelope felt even sicker than normal. It must be the stress of all of this hullabaloo. She required two cups of tea and several small bites of dry toast before she felt well enough to climb out of bed. Rose dressed her slowly but carefully. They assumed Danbury would be making his visit sometime that afternoon.

  He did not.

  Nor did he come the next day or the next.

  Where was he?

  It was not until four days later that she realized she wasn’t out of the woods yet.

  Anxious to have a word with the blighter, Penelope had been seeking him out at as many events and parties as she could attend. This had been Rose’s idea, but Penelope couldn’t come up with anything better. They’d both decided that Penelope would send him a missive if she could not locate him within one week. And if he did not answer that, she would be forced to present herself at his townhouse. She had no choice in the matter.

  That afternoon, Penelope and her mother attended a lavish garden party hosted by Mr. and Mrs. Shufflebottom. The rain that had appeared all week had lifted, and it was one of those perfect spring days. But where was Hugh?

  After greeting several clusters of guests alongside her mother, Penelope began resigning herself to the fact that he had not attended today either. This was not good.

  Had he really changed his mind about marrying her so easily? Not good at all.

  “Lady Sheffield says that your friend, the Countess of Hawthorne, is considering a house party, dear.” Her mother touched her hand, knowing her daughter well enough to realized that Penelope was woolgathering. “Apparently, the couple owns a magnificent estate just outside of town. Has she mentioned anything to you about it?”

  She had, but Penelope had not considered attending. Feeling her physical situation rather uncomfortably, she didn’t wish to be in close confines with any more people than was absolutely necessary. Not for the first time, she was grateful that her mother was oblivious to most of what went on in her daughter’s head. Good God, though, there would be quite the uproar if her parents discovered what she’d done.

  Penelope ignored her mother’s question and addressed Lady Sheffield, who was Lilly, the Duchess of Cortland’s, aunt.

  “Have you seen the baby yet, my lady?” Penelope was happy to change the subject.

  Lady Sheffield was a sturdy elderly grande dame and something of an
icon within the ton. Her eyes crinkled up happily. “I managed to get down there before coming over for the season. He is simply adorable! And Lilly told me what a great help you were to her. Thank you, my dear, for being there when my niece needed you.”

  “Of course!” The miraculous event had not only changed the Duke and Duchess of Cortland’s lives, but her own as well. And Danbury’s. She could not leave him out.

  Where is he?

  “And Lilly said Viscount Danbury kept company with Cortland. Poor boy, I was so sad to hear about his mother’s illness.”

  Poor boy, my a—wait! “Lady Danbury is ill?”

  “She’s consumptive. Her daughter sent word early this week. From my understanding, Danbury is trying to get to Land’s End before it’s too late.”

  Why had nobody informed her of this? Why had Hugh not sent word?

  “Oh, that reminds me.” Her mother tapped Penelope on the arm with her bamboo fan. “A letter came for you with Danbury’s seal. I forgot to give it to you.”

  “When?” Oh, Mother, how could you?

  Now she used the fan to tap against her own chin. “Hmmm, a few days ago. Maybe three. Most likely some political matter he wants your opinion on, if I know you properly, child.”

  When the dizziness and dark edges began appearing, Penelope used all the self-discipline she could muster to ward them off. She would not faint. She was not going to have a fit of the vapors at the Shufflebottoms’ garden party.

  “Most likely, Mother,” she answered instead. She needed to see that letter!

  Glancing around at the mingling guests, she mentally calculated how soon she could talk her mother into making their farewells. People were still arriving.

  She would have to wait at least an hour.

  A shadow heralded another arrival, and turning, Penelope curtsied to Rome Spencer, “My lord,” she said politely while her mother cooed over the viscount.

  The baroness was jubilant when he offered to stroll with Penelope in the sunshine. In a haze of stunned disbelief and panic, Penelope allowed him to take her arm and lead her away from the small groups of guests. There was nothing she could do in this moment, anyhow. She needed to read the damn letter and find out when Hugh planned upon returning.