3. Penelope
Penelope
I could leave.
My mind told me that.
I could just leave. I had no access to money anymore, but shouldn’t I just risk the elements to escape certain doom? And it was certain now that I was secretly betrothed to John.
Monster. Sick.
God, I could still feel his finger trailing over my cheek. Down to my neck.
What was a title when attaining a lifelong curse?
And that’s what I’d surely be facing if I went through with this.
Decades of more abuse. But… sexual abuse.
The man was caught trying to gain the attention of a child.
A girl barely a teen. It wasn’t the first time.
He’d hurt one, once. Or so the rumor went.
And I was meant to patch up the predator’s reputation?
You couldn’t fix something like that. Not by marriage. A bullet, maybe, but short of going from Countess to convict, the best I could do was sacrifice myself for the sick man who I was being forced to marry. But could I go through with it? Could I even escape if I tried?
I bit my bottom lip, tasting blood. The buzz of voices in the boutique barely registered. My heart was racing. Sweat was coating my palms.
“You have the attention span of a child, Penelope. Focus. This is important.”
“Of course, Mother.”
She picked up a hat, only to put it down and pluck up another. Her finger traced over the feather protruding from the side. Slowly, she shook her head. The plum silk blouse shimmered as she turned back to me, and her lips tightened into a line.
“You’re still standing here. You’re not even trying. Is the thought of your father’s company party so boring to you? He expects you to look your part. Do I need to remind you who will all be in attendance?”
I took a step back, scanning the racks of formal dresses in the distance.
“Very important people, Mother. I haven’t forgotten. I just thought since I didn’t get to wear the sapphire dress—”
“Sapphire? For this event?” She let out a deep breath. “All those lessons. For what?”
“Black. Modest. Silver accents or accessories.”
“Thank God.” She nodded, but I was already backstepping and turning for the racks. Heat filled my cheeks and anger blossomed as I felt myself harden.
Me… outshine my beautiful mother in public? Never. She made sure of that. How many black dresses did I already have?
It didn’t matter. The color wasn’t the issue, my life was. This party was the last thing I wanted to think about. I wasn’t even sure I’d be here by the time it rolled around. But if I left…
I split the clothes on the rack, feeling myself fade away as I mindlessly scooted the first dress forward.
America? Spain? Where could I go? Where could I hide? My father would come for me. He wouldn’t let me get out of marriage. But what if I did marry? I might have access to money then, and then I could run from John. Would he come after me, too? Would Pauly help me hide?
I blinked hard, pushing a pale blush dress down the rack.
That was unfair to Paul. John was his father. I had to come up with a plan on my own. Money. I needed money to at least help me get out of the country.
“That’s not yours.”
I jumped at the male voice directly behind me.
I turned, feeling my head tilt back at the tall man whose head was cocked to the side.
He was studying my face. Hazel eyes were more green than brown.
They penetrated my very soul as his gaze locked to mine.
Black hair was cut short on the sides, but the waves from the curls on the top didn’t escape my notice.
The air of danger emanating from him as he stepped in even closer had clothes falling off the rack behind me as I countered his step to put distance between us.
“I’m sorry?”
“Pink. That’s not the one.” He reached over, pulling a deep crimson dress free from the rack to hold up next to me. His eyes seemed to take in my body longer than they should have. Heat filled my face, but for the first time, I didn’t cower. “Yes. This is better,” he breathed out.
My lips parted as I took in his handsome features. The hard angles of his cheekbones went down to a defined jaw and chin. His good looks clashed with his aura leaving it almost impossible to speak. The innocent girl in me fell in love at first sight.
“Red isn’t appropriate for the occasion. I’m looking for black.”
“A funeral, then?”
I laughed, not able to stop myself.
“Would it be horrible if I said I’d prefer it over this party?”
“Not at all. Whose funeral would you like it to be?” His smile exposed perfect white teeth. Where it was beautiful, I felt myself shift under the heavy, threatening energy that didn’t leave him.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Enlighten me. Tell me a name.”
For seconds the words got trapped in my throat.
My name sounded in the distance and my pulse jumped.
The man looked over his shoulder, his lids narrowing in anger the smallest amount.
He didn’t move despite I knew my mother was headed our way.
If anything, he got closer, stealing even more space between us.
“Tell me.” It was soft but full of so much authority that I felt the admission tumble from my lips before I could stop it.
“John.”
Something shifted in his gaze. “Very common name.”
“A dangerous one. …Excuse me.”
I took the dress he was holding, reaching over to grab the first black one I saw. I didn’t look back as I headed for my mother, but she wasn’t looking at me. She was following the man as he headed for the doors to leave the store.
“Who was that?”
“I have no idea. He was asking for directions.” I glanced over, watching the man step around a couple. “It was nothing. I like these.”
There was a reluctance as my mother’s eyes finally lowered. “Red? Bold color.”
“Too bold for John?”
Lies. Calculations. The need to protect the stranger—myself was all I knew. A smile appeared from my mother as she scanned the dress, and her head nodded in approval.
“Perfect for John. Perhaps a private dinner. I knew you’d come around.”
Her arm shot up to one of the workers, but my eyes found their way back to the large glass doors at the front of the boutique. Back to the disappearing mystery man who’d scared me just as much as he intrigued me.
Who was that man? And why did I want to find out?
The question was one that stayed with me as I headed into the dressing room.
I took off the dark blue slacks, removing the ivory blouse as I unzipped the dress and stepped into it.
The deep red against my pale skin left me in awe as I brought it up to hug against my body.
It was tighter than what I usually wore, molding to my curves even more as I eased up the zipper.
Where the top was low cut, a sheer crimson draped over the cleavage, enhancing even if it gave a veil of concealment.
The long sleeves helped make the dress appear more conservative, but it was anything but. Or maybe that was me?
Licking my lips, I eased my hands down my ribs, letting them glide over my hips.
When my arms lowered completely, I couldn’t stop from tracing my finger over the slit that rested mid-thigh.
But it wasn’t my finger I wanted it to be.
My lids closed and I saw hazel eyes. I saw the man who’d handed me the dress.
My lids opened, and I took in my reflection. Could the dress pass as sophisticated? Chic? Was I overthinking it? Women wore dresses like this every day to fancy dinners. But not me… Never me. But I had a reason now.
The appeal melted.
John. I didn’t want to wear this dress for him. I didn’t want him thinking about me like that at all.
My head shook as I unzipped the dress and hung it back up. There was nothing special about the black one as I slid it on. It didn’t hug to my curves. It wasn’t low cut with its high neckline and plain sleeves. In my mother’s eyes, it would be perfect.
“Well?”
My eyes rolled, and I stood straighter, unlocking the door and stepping out. Her smile was instant.
“Nice choice for the party. You’re learning. What about the other?”
“I like it.”
“Will John like it?”
I swallowed back the bile.
“He’ll love it. Mother, can I ask about Paul?”
All happiness faded.
“Again? We’ve already discussed this. There’s no point.
I see the appeal Penelope but use your head.
John is the earl. He will remarry, and that’ll be to you.
You will secure this title. Not in twenty or thirty years when he dies or steps down.
Now.” She glanced around the boutique, stepping closer.
“This is not the time. Erase the doubt. It’ll hurt you a lot more than serve you. ”
“What about the little girls?”
Another step. Two. My mother closed the distance, squeezing into my bicep threateningly as she leaned in.
“There are no girls other than you. If you do your duties, it’ll stay that way. Only you can ruin this with John. And you won’t, will you.”
It wasn’t a question.
“Give me one more chance. Let me meet with Lord Shorelam again. Send me north to meet with the Marquis of Luling. He’s a few years older than I am.
I know he says he’s not interested in marriage, but I’ll captivate and win him over.
A chance meeting—fate. Mother, please. One more try. I won’t fail.”
“And I won’t tell you again. You’re marrying John. We’ll not go back on our word and embarrass ourselves even more. It’s done. Accept it. We have.”
“If I don’t?”
My mother’s hand broke free and lifted to slap me, but she stopped. Her fingers curled in as she looked around the boutique.
“Mark my words. You may not survive ruining this. One way or another, we will have that title. We can do it the easy way, or you’ll find out just how generous your father has truly been. You think you’ve seen him angry? You haven’t seen anything yet.”