1. Penelope
Penelope
“Stupid girl, sit up straight. Do you not see what an embarrassment you are? He said no. No, to you. You’re the prettiest girl in all of Europe, but you sit there like some flighty, uneducated commoner, just slouching in your chair without a single thought in your head.
In front of your father, no less. You couldn’t even wait until we left his office.
Of course Lord Shorelam had no interest in a second meeting with you.
His reputation is on the line. Our reputation.
He doesn’t have time to train some stupid girl.
Do you know the lengths your father went to get you an introduction? Edwin’s an earl, Penelope. An earl.”
“I do know, Mother. … Father, I apologize,” I rushed out.
“I truly am sorry. About everything. I didn’t realize I’d sunk down in my chair.
I’m a bit under the weather, and the rejection is a shock.
I truly thought Edwin and I hit it off. I tried so hard.
I don’t understand. Maybe it’s a mistake.
Maybe looks don’t matter to him and he wants someone who still holds a title. ”
The last was barely audible as I caught myself, but brown, almond-shaped eyes narrowed even more as my father stared me down.
His round face was tinged with pink. I tried not to shake as he eased to stand from the brown leather chair behind his desk.
“The only mistake made was thinking you could pull this off. We needed the titled match, Penelope. You said you could do this.”
“But I did everything you asked. I even… flirted like mother told me to.”
My eyes lowered to my hands as my fingers pushed into the dark green dress covering my thighs. Mortification heated my cheeks. It was repulsive. Me, trying to marry a strange man who was nearly three times my age. All for a title? I hated it. I hated this.
Pain spread like fire over my scalp as my mother jerked my hair so that I’d lift my gaze to hers. She moved in closer, but she didn’t continue holding on. “Perhaps you flirted a little too much. Did you insinuate more?”
“N-No. Of course not.”
Movement had me looking over. My lips separated as I took in my father’s growing rage. His eyes narrowed, but he stayed silent. “I didn’t. I swear, Father. I’d never.”
“She did, Allen. She must have. Why didn’t I put it together before. You made us look cheap, didn’t you. Desperate. Oh, God, help us, people will talk even more. We’re never going to live those pictures of you down.”
Air blew back my hair as my mother began fanning herself with a booklet resting on my father’s desk. Closer, he stepped, making me squirm in my chair as he walked around the desk, towards me.
“I didn’t do anything that would cause some sort of scandal, Father. I swear, I didn’t.”
“Are you calling your mother a liar, Penelope?”
“… N-No. I only meant—”
Whack!
Blood washed over my tongue, and the sting had tears filling my eyes. I sat straighter, reaching to the heat that began pouring from my cheek.
“I’m deeply sorry for calling you a liar, Mother. Perhaps you’re right. It must have been my fault. I’m an embarrassment. Next time I will not fail to secure a husband. A titled one. I can do it.”
“Says the girl who’s already failed twice.”
More tears. They blurred my parents in my peripheral, and the empty desk before me faded as my mind begged to be anywhere but here—with any man or woman but them.
“I won’t fail next time.”
The soft words were all I could manage. My mother made a sound as if she didn’t believe me.
I stayed stiff as they walked deeper into the room behind me.
Yes. Next time I’d succeed. I’d marry a corpse if it got me out of their abusive, controlling household.
And hadn’t I thought I’d finally get that with Edwin?
Sure, I wasn’t attracted to him, but he hadn’t seemed anywhere near as horrible as my parents.
He was serious with no sense of humor, but he was soft spoken and seemed to care for my interests.
He was paler than I was, but he didn’t look on his death bed.
For a little over sixty, he was in good shape.
None of that mattered. I failed. I was still here.
Next time…
Wetness raced down my face. I was barely aware enough to reach up and wipe it away.
Time passed.
More whining from my mother.
Building aggravation from my father.
At one point I tensed, expecting the worst. As time passed, I found myself drifting back to the fictional worlds I lived in as they continued to scheme and complain. I stayed in the void of safety where I could escape it all.
Footsteps had me blinking away elaborate gardens full of flowers, only to come face to face with the painting of Rosemoor. It had been ours, so long ago. It was the dream—their dream. Duchess of Rosemoor… Duchess. Not in this lifetime.
“Where did the time go?” My mother’s voice was suddenly right behind me. “Come, Penelope. Let us change before dinner. The Smiths’ will be here in less than an hour. We don’t have much time.”
I stood, swallowing back the questions that wanted to come.
I passed my father, keeping my eyes averted.
He was watching me. I could feel my skin crawling, especially with my back to him.
I didn’t trust his mood. When my father tasted blood, he rarely let it end without making a mark.
That slap would not appease the monster inside him.
If I wanted to get out unscathed, my best bet was to keep quiet and stay invisible.
“You’ll wear the sapphire dress Patricia dropped off for you yesterday. The shoulders are capped but the square neckline is wide. You’ll wear your hair up to expose your neck. You may wear my pearls.”
Clicking on the steps from my mother’s heels merged with my pulse pounding in my ears. Quickly, I glanced behind me to make sure my father wasn’t near before picking up my pace.
“That’s kind of you, Mother. Is… I mean, will Pauly be coming over with his parents as well?”
The words nearly got trapped in my throat at my old friend’s childhood name. My mother slowed, a smile tugging at her mouth. Hope fought against dread, and my stomach twisted in knots at the manipulation that flashed.
“You know Paul is in France.”
“Oh—” I nearly stumbled as we reached the hall, continuing as she headed to my room.
But she said I could wear the pearls. That usually meant something more, right?
“So, it’ll just be his parents? Is Babette well enough to come this time? Is the chemotherapy helping? Is the cancer gone? Is that why we’re celebrating?”
My mother paused but continued forward. “Slow down, Penelope. No. John always says she’ll attend, but she never does. Babette will be dead before the year is out. John believes she won’t make it another few months. Five, tops.”
“Dead?” My throat nearly closed.
“Your father and I really didn’t want to take this route given John’s…
reputation. Seems you’ve left us with no choice.
Your father is tired of your failures. He can’t afford anymore embarrassment.
Especially after losing so much money on his recent venture.
You’ve really left us no choice, Penelope.
We’re going to have to take John up on his offer. ”
“Offer? But Mother—”
“Do not beg for another chance like a spoiled girl. You’re a woman now. Nearly twenty-one. You’re too old to live at home and too lazy and stupid to go back to the university. Your grades were horrendous. Your father had to bribe the professor just so you would pass.”
“That’s not true. I had great grades. I—”
“Do I need to call your father?” I jolted to a stop just inside my door as she headed for my closet.
“It’s settled, Penelope. We hoped for better, but we can’t risk this opportunity given your track record.
You’ll marry John, and the rumors surrounding you both will disappear.
You can help rebuild his good name after that horrible scandal around the Gilroy girl, and he can help rebuild our bloodline.
He’s not Edwin, but he is an earl, too. It’s him or Davis Burk, who’s a baron. This is the best we can do.”
A tear raced down my cheek. I quickly reached up, wiping it away as I headed deeper into my bedroom. I stopped next to the cream ruffled, lace comforter, reaching down to fist it for some sense of grounding.
“You said John’s offer? He… wants me like that? He wants to marry me?”
Bright blue silk shimmered as my mother spun from my closet, heading my way.
“It started with Paul when you were thirteen. Your father would have taken offense had he not been soft for the boy. You know he likes Paul. But you should be a duchess. Everyone knows that. It doesn’t matter that we no longer hold the title.
The Taylor name and history is golden—or was until your pictures got out.
Now we’re in damage control. Again. With your beauty and money, you had the eye of the king.
I’ve pointed that out to everyone on numerous occasions.
But we know why he doesn’t choose you.” Her head gave a hard shake.
“He’s too safe. Too… safe,” she sneered.
“And we’re out of time. We can’t wait much longer.
Not with your father—with you and your stupid decisions.
It’s been over two hundred years. We’ve proven our loyalty.
It’s water under the bridge. King Lawrence should reinstate your father. That’s what he should do.”
“Yes.”
My voice was light as I took the dress. There was no point engaging in a conversation that played on a loop.
Every week it was the same thing, and every week my parents’ bitterness and anger rose.
Not only for what they felt was injustice, but because my father wasn’t the best businessman.
We had money. Lots of it. But his dealings caused talk.
They were risky, sometimes bordering illegal.
And then there was me. I didn’t seem to do anything right.
Attending the university had been a breath of fresh air after my suffocating, abusive childhood.
The freedom had been invigorating and wonderful, even if my parents did have me constantly followed and monitored.
I’d finally been happy. I’d been out from under their crushing thumb.
But then I attended one party. Pictures were sent to my father. After that, it all came tumbling down.
Embarrassment.
Yes.
That night I had been drunk and wild. I’d even gotten naked with a boy and would have gone all the way had the flash of a camera not ruined our moment. The pictures were sent to my father, and that was it for me—marriage, discipline… beatings. That was over a year ago now. A very long year.
“What is this? Tears? Are you crying? I can’t believe it. Ungrateful—”
“No.” My hand shot up, stiff from how tightly I was gripping the comforter. “I am grateful.”
“You don’t look like it.”
“I told you I was feeling ill. I really think I’m coming down with something. I—”
I didn’t continue or point out the stress I was under as her hand pressed against my forehead. Perfectly shaped dark eyebrows drew in, and my mother’s bow-shaped lips pursed. Black waves swayed against her shoulders as she let out a deep breath.
“Perhaps you do feel warm.” She glanced to the blue gown she held, looking back up at me. Something flashed on her face, warping through her thoughts as she scanned over my features. “You are a bit flushed. Get undressed and climb in bed. I’ll have Rose bring up your dinner. You’re done for today.”
“But… Father—”
“Let’s see if absence makes the heart grow fonder. When John comes in to check on you, here, in bed, it’ll be all he can think about during dinner. He’ll just be that much more determined to make you his.”
My jaw tightened as I lowered my eyes.
Sickness didn’t excuse me from dinner, opportunity did.
My mother never agreed to anything unless it benefited her, and I had never been so valuable. John would pay generously for my bloodline. If the rumors were true, he’d also relish in spilling it.