Chapter 8 #2
“It’s too late for regrets now, my girl.
Lord Oliver and Lady Madeline are waiting.
” Dinah tugged her arm away and ran toward center stage, where Lord Oliver was sitting in a makeshift carriage the stable boys had fashioned out of a few cushions set atop a hay bale, and holding a pair of reins that had been attached to a hook offstage.
“Curtains!” Dinah whispered.
The stable boys pulled the curtains back. Penelope stood at the side of the stage, every limb shaking, and waited for her cue.
“Once we’re wed, I must have six carriages, my lord.
Not a single fewer than six will do, each with perfectly matched white horses.
Dozens of gowns of the finest silk and satin with Belgian lace, and a grand townhouse in Mayfair.
Grander even than Devonshire House!” Lady Pristine Proper was seated beside Lord Rodrigo in the carriage, clinging to his arm with one hand and ticking off her demands with the other.
Penelope closed her eyes in despair. Lady Lavinia was going to snatch her hair out, and Lord Archer was going to be so furious he’d let her.
Lord Rodrigo turned a comically aghast face toward the audience, and laughter drifted through the drawing room. “But my lady, my mother is ailing, and not fit for the London air!”
Lady Proper sniffed at this. “Let your mother stay in the country, then, and have the servants tend her. Speaking of servants, Lord Rakehell, I demand the constant attendance of a French lady’s maid.
The finest ladies of the ton all have a French lady’s maid, and a French modiste, and a French chef.
I am to become the Countess of Rakehell, wife to the wealthiest earl in England, and I must have everything French! ”
Lord Rodrigo and Lady Proper were too preoccupied with their argument to notice the Christmas Angel sneaking up behind their carriage. “Lord Rodrigo is a fool to believe Lady Proper is his one true love, is he not?” The angel addressed this to the audience, her hands held up in question.
The audience responded with a resounding yes, particularly the stable boys, who were so offended by Lady Proper they shook their fists at her.
“Shall I help his poor lordship?” The Christmas Angel asked. “Or shall let him reap the consequences of his foolishness with a lifetime of marriage to Lady Proper and an afterlife of eternal damnation?”
“Help the poor sod!” Lord Christopher shouted, and the rest of the audience laughed and clapped their agreement.
The Christmas Angel nodded, then crept up behind the carriage, her finger over her lips to hush the audience.
She lifted her arms into the air and waved them about, as if conjuring a spell.
The audience remained silent as the angel twirled gracefully across the stage, her filmy white skirts gathered in her hands and her golden curls flying.
Everyone held their breath and waited, curious to see what the effect of this dance would be, when a sudden shriek made them all jump in their chairs.
Lord Rodrigo and Lady Proper both screamed, and Lord Rodrigo grappled with the reins, jerking them savagely to the right as if to prevent the carriage from striking something. “Dear God, we’re going to hit her!”
Penelope stood frozen on the sidelines. For an awful moment she couldn’t make herself move, but then she thought of Lord Archer, and emotion welled inside her. He was a good man, a gentleman who cared for his family. He deserved much better than Lady Lavinia.
This was nothing more than a silly little play. It likely wouldn’t change a thing, but it was all Penelope had to offer him. Her heart in her throat, she darted forward and threw herself onto the floor in front of the hay bale, as if she’d fallen in front of the carriage.
Lord Rodrigo let out a pitiful wail and jerked on the reins. “Dear God, I fear we’ve killed her!”
“Never mind her! You’ve killed me!” Lady Proper screeched as she tumbled backwards off the hay bale.
The audience gasped, but it quickly turned to a laugh when Lady Proper landed with an unceremonious thump on her bottom.
“Lord Rakehell!” she shrieked, gripping the hay bale and trying to pull herself up. “Come and save me at once!”
Lord Rodrigo didn’t appear to hear her. He tossed the reins aside, jumped down and hurried to Penelope, who was lying in front of the hay bale.
He fell to his knees beside her and gathered her into his arms. “Why, it’s the lady from the other day—the actress who wept over my troubled heart! My dear lady, do you live still?”
Lord Oliver jiggled her a bit, and Penelope let her eyes flutter open.
“She lives!” Lord Rodrigo cried, raising his eyes to heaven.
He gathered Penelope against his chest and rose to his feet with a dramatic flourish, cradling her in his arms. More than one lady in the audience sighed at the romantic gesture, and Lord Christopher shouted, “Is she your one true love, Lord Rakehell?”
Lord Rodrigo set Penelope down on the hay bale, then threw himself on his knees at her feet.
“My dear lady, you showed me kindness and compassion when my heart was sorely afflicted. Yours is the sweetest face I have ever seen. You are my one true love. I beg you to stay with me forever, and save me from eternal damnation.”
This was the moment when Penelope was meant to pledge her love to Lord Rodrigo and thus end the play.
She hesitated, seeking out Lord Archer, who was in his usual place at the front with a seething Lady Lavinia at his side.
His face was expressionless, but his dark blue eyes were following her every move, her every breath.
Waiting.
Lord Rodrigo cleared his throat nervously and gathered Penelope’s hands in his. “My dear lady, please don’t deny me. The Christmas Angel bid me find my one true love, and you are she. I love you madly and wish to be with you always. Do you love me, my lady? Will you become my wife?”
Lord Oliver gave Penelope’s hands a meaningful squeeze.
Penelope drew in a quick breath and opened her mouth.
The audience leaned forward in their chairs, their own breath held as they awaited her reply.
She reached for Lord Rodrigo, but when she cradled his cheek in her palm and spoke her lines, she didn’t see Lord Oliver.
She didn’t see Lady Madeline, or Dinah, or Lady Lavinia and the rest of the audience.
She saw only Will.
“I do love you. You are my one true love, and I will stay with you always.”
The audience released their collective breath in a sigh, then jumped to their feet and burst into a storm of applause.
Penelope hardly heard them.
The players ran down the stage to take their bows.
Lord Archer’s guests were rising to their feet, but he didn’t move.
Lady Lavinia was saying something to him, her face red with fury, but he wasn’t looking at her.
He sat utterly still in the midst of the chaos, his gaze fixed on Penelope, his eyes burning.