Dancing With the Gull (Revenge of the Wallflowers, #14)

Chapter Twenty-Two

Penelope was furious with her parents. She’d fought with them for two days, demanding to be able to call the banns and marry Lord Henry immediately. Their only argument had been that she was ‘too close’ to Lord Henry. As though she shouldn”t be close to the man she was going to marry! What she couldn’t argue with was what they inferred by their statement, because it was true. She’d lain with Lord Henry and would unrepentantly do it again. She wished that she was in his arms even now.

Since they’d not listened to her, she’d stopped talking to them at all.

On the third day she tried to write a letter to Henny. Her maid informed her that her mother had intercepted it and burned it. Burned it!

At that point she also stopped ensuring that the household ran effectively. It had been better than a decade since her mother started her training as a domestic home manager, and better than eight years since Penelope had excelled at it so significantly that her mother had surrendered all aspects of it to her. Pen began hoping their entire household failed around them.

Her mother tried to visit her room a number of times, but Pen simply ignored her. Ion, silly traitor that he was, happily danced around Mama and accepted her petting, but Pen sat ramrod straight in the chair where she’d been spending her days, her eyes on the floor, and waited for Mama to give up in frustration and walk away.

Better than a fortnight after they’d returned from the house party it was her father that came to see her.

“Stop being ridiculous, Penelope. This behavior isn’t seemly.”

Pen had heard that a number of things had begun plaguing the household. Misplaced items, late and missed meals, and backlogs on both cleaning and laundry. She knew some of it was due to her no longer overseeing that work, but some of it was also likely due to a certain solidarity that the staff had with her. She assumed it was the inconvenience to his lifestyle rather than concern over his daughter’s feelings that brought him to her door. As such, she didn’t feel she owed him any response.

“Bloody hell, Penelope!” Pen jumped in surprise. Her father rarely showed his temper, so that in itself drew her gaze up to him. “I’ve never known you to run with a fast crowd, and the more I see of Lord Henry and his cadre, the more I believe the stories of their exploits.”

“What stories?” she asked hesitantly.

“None fit for your ears, I promise you. And to see you cozy with the likes of Mrs. Baxter? Lady Greer’s eccentricity certainly tested its limits with that invitation!”

Pen chose her words carefully. “Certainly you have exploits you’re not proud of from your own youth. Did you not sow your own oats?”

Her father snorted. “He might seem cherubic, but I promise you that your precious Lord Henry sowed enough oats for five men, and certainly doesn’t seem done with it. His parents acquiesced to my request that you not announce your betrothal until Autumn, to ensure that the two of you would suit. To ensure you weren’t being too hasty. I’d hoped to see something indicating he’d matured enough to be a suitable husband, but all I’ve seen is that my reservations were warranted. And that you aren’t nearly the mature young woman I thought you to be.”

Pen had a moment of panic. Would her father not only deny marriage to Lord Henry, but even her own independence as well?

Her silence seemed to frustrate him, and he asked harshly, “What is it that you want, Penelope?”

Rather than match his tone, she responded softly, “I wish to marry Lord Henry.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose before responding. “Why him? If you wish to marry one of the dumb, pretty ones, something I never suspected you would do, why can’t you at least choose one that increases our holdings, or can support my work in Parliament?”

Oh, that was outside of enough. She stood and stared at him calmly, ice in her voice. “I will credit that you’ve never before made me feel like a possession or a bargaining chip, as something you would trade for something else of greater value to you. Now I realize it means you are a far better liar than I ever suspected.”

His face flushed red. “How dare you. Of course I want what is best for you.”

“Then it makes me wonder what you think is best for me. It certainly doesn’t sound like my happiness or well-being.”

Rather than respond, he turned to leave and slammed the door. The frame shook, and small flakes of plaster fell from above it. Well, fine. If she could, she would slam every door in the house.

***

HENNY CLEARED HIS THROAT again before knocking on the door. His letters had gone unanswered. No one had seen Lady Penelope in Town. Mrs. Baxter hadn’t heard from her. Kit and Sarah were back at their estate, but hadn’t heard from her either, as far as he knew. So now here he was, knocking on her townhouse door, hopeful that her father would see him. He had no illusions that he would see Penelope until her father allowed it.

The butler opened the door and Hen was confident in this part. He would present his card and ask to see the earl. The earl either would or would not see him. He didn’t know what path he would take if he was refused.

Once he was in the earl’s presence, he would likely be offered a drink. After that, his knowledge failed him. He had no guidebook on what to say to his future father-in-law. He barely knew the man, so had no basis for feigning familiarity. Neither Kit nor War had been of any help in considering the question. Kit’s father-in-law had never been an impediment. Was by all accounts a capital chap. War had never courted a woman, and had no experience trying to navigate a relationship with a potential father-in-law.

Hen waited in the front hall to find out if he would be received, and the longer he waited, the less likely he thought it to be. Finally, the butler returned and invited him to follow. Hen wasn’t sure if that was even the answer he wanted, as he still didn’t quite know what to say. But this was for Penelope. She’d been angry that her parents made her leave the house party, and she’d not been heard from since. The least he could do was politely inquire after her health. Although what he really wanted was to tear the house apart until he found her.

The butler showed him to a surprisingly airy study. In his experience most men spent their leisure time in dark, airless places filled with wood and smoke. The earl, apparently, favored tall windows, fresh air, and pale colors. The only nod to the fact it was his study was the large desk and wall of bookcases, both painted a blue so pale it was more a tint of white. It was a surprisingly welcoming room.

The earl was standing at his sideboard as Henny was announced and nodded his acknowledgement. “Drink?” he asked.

This was a question that Henny anticipated. “Whatever you’re having, my lord.”

The earl poured two short glasses of pale amber liquid and handed one to Henny.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

This was one of the questions that Henny didn’t like because it didn’t seem logical at all. Yet, it was the sort of nonsense that Society seemed to turn on, as though they needed a constant stream of gibberish as some sort of social glue that he didn’t understand at all.

Rather than consider what answer the earl might be expecting, Henny turned to the purpose of his visit. “I wanted to inquire after Lady Penelope’s health. I’ve heard that she was overset when she left my parent’s house.”

“Her health?”

The earl was holding his glass and swirling the contents. He still hadn’t taken a sip of it, so neither had Henny. Being drugged had changed his view about how much he trusted anything that was handed to him. Henny also noticed that he hadn’t been invited to sit. The earl wasn’t sitting either. He latently realized that most people would recognize this as a lapse of manners at best, and most likely outright hostility. It didn’t bother Henny because other than memorizing social rules in order to not make a fool of himself, he didn’t care about them at all.

“Yes, her health. What is her state of mind? Has she been ill?”

“Are you trying to ask if she’s with child? There’ve been no signs of it, but I suppose it is early yet.” The earl’s voice was significantly chilly.

“No, I am asking how my betrothed fairs since she was forcibly abducted from my parents’ home. Penelope isn’t given to hysteria, so hearing that she was screaming and carried away has me quite concerned. Especially as she hasn’t answered my letters, nor been seen by her friends.”

Hen knew that was an unusually large and cogent number of words for him, especially speaking to someone he didn’t know well, but he was desperate to know how she was. He also knew he’d issued a pointed accusation.

The earl narrowed his eyes. “How do you know she isn’t given to hysterics? I would think you hardly know her.”

“To the contrary, I’ve known her for better than six years now. I’ve always admired her mind and forthright speech. She is brave, principled, and surprisingly soft-hearted. It is not my desire to argue with you, my lord, but I do know her, and know her very well. I ask again, how is she?”

The earl held his gaze for a few beats more, then sighed and tossed back the entire glass of amber liquid. Dropping into one of the pale embroidered chairs in front of the desk he resignedly waved a hand inviting Henny to sit in the other.

“I think I would say she’s enraged,” the earl admitted. “She refuses to come out of her room, and the only time she’s talked to the countess or I, it was to hurl insults.”

On the one hand, Henny was delighted to hear that Penelope was still fiery, it meant her spirit wasn’t broken. On the other, he doubted she was doing much to change the earl’s mind if he’d already decided to stand against the marriage. The man hadn’t chosen to point out that Henny called her his betrothed, though. That didn’t mean agreement, but it might mean something.

“Would you like for me to talk to her?” Henny asked.

The earl gave him a smile that was so much like Penelope’s when she thought something was ridiculous that it made his heart hurt. It also meant Lord Barshaw very much doubted that Henny could have any effect on his daughter.

Henny very much disagreed. “Send for her. Let me speak with her here, with you.”

The earl furrowed his brow. “She won’t leave her room.”

“Tell her it is about me,” Henny insisted.

The earl shook his head. “Given what most think of you, I’m surprised to find that you are more arrogant than anyone credits.”

But Lord Barshaw stood and summoned his footman. After refilling his glass, the earl returned to his seat. Henny took a sip of his own drink. They sat in an awkward silence as they waited.

After a few minutes passed, the door to the study banged open. Rather than a footman announcing her, it was Penelope herself. Both men stood. Penelope was wide-eyed, taking in the tableau. She was also in disarray, with her hair down around her shoulders and her dress wrinkled. She whispered Henny’s name and rushed into his arms.

He was relieved to hold her again, but concerned. She felt more slender, almost delicate. He pulled away to look in her eyes. “Have you been eating?”

“Not much,” she admitted. She gave him a wavering smile. “I’ve been pining.”

“As have I, duckling,” he said, “but I’ve managed to find the dining room from time to time.”

She cast her gaze on her father for a moment. “You’ve probably not been kept like a prisoner.”