5. Penelope
Penelope
“Oh, Penelope. That dress is lovely on you. John is going to love it.”
“Yeah?”
I tried to hold in the tears as my mother turned me from the floor-length mirror.
It was taking all I had to hold myself together after my talk with the mysterious stranger.
Had I really divulged such a dark secret?
What was I thinking telling him such personal information?
Had I lost my mind? What if it was a reporter?
What if he knew my father and told him what I’d said?
Why did I do that? Because he had a nice voice? Because he actually listened?
I was jumping at every sound, so sure my father would come barging through my door at any moment.
“John will love it. Sit, let me pin back your hair.”
My mother pulled out the chair to my vanity. I sat down, watching her in the smaller mirror as she reached for my brush. She was never so generous. Never so… loving. I felt guilty for keeping my tone soft just so I could soak in this staged affection.
“I’ve been wondering, Mother, and I’m curious. Do you think John will want to marry right away?”
I didn’t elaborate or let the dread leak into my tone.
“It is something we’ve been talking about.
This is a delicate situation, Penelope. I’m not sure there’s a right time for marriage, but John seems to think it will appear better if it were sooner rather than later.
He told your father today that he’s concocting a story he believes will go well with the public. ”
“A story.” I scanned the two of us in the mirror, feeling my mind race. “He wants the public to take to this marriage with sympathy. As though… he needs me… through his grief.”
A wide smile came as my mother pulled back the top section of my hair, sliding the pin into place as she began pulling up other sections as well, twisting them back.
“You are wicked smart when you want to be. Or maybe you’ve been the entire time and you just don’t let it show.”
Blue, the same color as mine lifted to connect with my stare. I quickly averted my eyes.
“None of us want this marriage to backfire, Penelope. We want the title, but we want our reputation to thrive with the news. Like I said before, it’s delicate.”
I swallowed back the millions of colliding thoughts that wanted to come.
“Perhaps I…” I cleared my throat, hating the way I almost knew what I had to do if I wanted to escape this house—this hell.
“Perhaps I could offer to help care for Babette? Maybe to read to her so it puts me and John in the same place at the same time?”
My mother’s hand froze, and I braved a look.
“That was my exact suggestion.” Her body softened.
“I knew you’d come around. Men… they’re so thick-headed.
They both said no, but they may be right in this case.
John comes for dinner on a regular basis.
That seems to be enough interaction. Too much might come off overplayed and suspicious and lead to even more gossip.
He will continue to play the doting husband until she dies, and then roughly two months later, the two of you will run into each other publicly.
Perhaps at the same restaurant, where the two of you will decide to dine together.
He’ll need help with his grief, and the two of you will connect on a deeper level.
It will be a fast relationship. An… unexpected spark, so to speak. ”
“Two months,” I breathed out. Alright. I had a little time to come up with a plan. “An unexpected spark. Unexpected is believable.”
“Indeed.” She twisted the last piece up, sliding in a few more pins to hold it into place.
As I stood, I saw pride on my mother’s face.
Happiness. It didn’t last long before she nodded and the hardness returned.
“John is probably already downstairs. I’ll let him know you’re ready. Don’t keep him waiting.”
“Yes, Mother.”
She headed for the door, shutting it behind her.
Silence left my ears ringing and my throat closing.
I let my lids drop, refusing to think about how much care and detail I’d put into my makeup and appearance.
I didn’t want John to feel attracted to me—but the dress.
Everything about it was like Poppy. I felt daring and alive.
Like anyone but me. Now that it was time to go down and meet John, I wanted to be wearing a sack.
I wanted to look so horrid that I scared him away.
My hand pushed into my stomach as I stood straighter. Vibrations had my head jerking to the side. Excitement sparked but died away with guilt. Shaking engulfed me as I headed for the phone and took in the private number displayed on the screen. I quickly hit the button, bringing it to my ear.
“Hello?”
“You hung up on me. … I didn’t like that.”
“I can’t talk right now.” I shifted in the heels, keeping my voice down. My pulse soared. I didn’t want to stop talking to him. To stop hearing that voice. “I have to go down to dinner. He’s waiting for me.”
“I know. I saw.”
My head whipped to my window, and I headed in the direction, pulling back the curtain. Random lights lit up windows down both sides of the road, and the streetlamps gave illumination to the shadows, but I saw no one.
“You’re out there now? Are you a neighbor?”
A pause. “You look beautiful.”
Heat flooded my cheeks, taking over my body as I shifted under the pressure of an invisible gaze.
“Thank you. …I truly must go.”
“We’ll talk again soon, Penelope. Don’t hang up on me again.”
The line went dead, and I placed my phone down as I spun for the door.
My steps were so fast as I headed down. My mind was spinning.
This stranger’s accent. British but… something else had been mixed in.
American? And he sounded somewhat young.
Older than me but not old. Smooth, deep voice. Could voices be sexy? His was.
I was so lost in my thoughts, I almost barged into my father as he left his study. The surprise collided with fear leaving me frozen as he reached for my arm to steady me.
“I’m so sorry, Father. I didn’t see you. I didn’t want to keep John waiting.”
He stepped back, studying me like a piece of meat.
“He’ll like the dress. Off with you.”
No degradation. No snide remarks. Words wouldn’t come as I found the sense to nod.
My shoulders went back, and I breathed in deep as I lifted my head high.
The walk to the dining room was only a few feet.
I cringed at the door being closed. It was never shut, but privacy seemed to be key for our first dinner. I didn’t like it.
Opening the door, John stood. His eyes were rounder than normal as he slowly headed towards me. It took everything I had to close the door, but I managed as he approached.
“Penelope.” Words didn’t continue as he took my hand and stepped back. For seconds, he let his gaze eat me alive. His free hand even came out hovering and moving down along the curve of my waist and hip. “Who knew this was hidden under those loose dresses you usually wear. You look exquisite.”
No blush. No tingling like when the stranger talked to me.
“Thank you, My Lord.”
He smiled, raking his teeth over his bottom lip as he walked me to the chair next to his so I could sit.
“There’s no reason to thank me. I’ve known you were special for a long time. After all, I tried to secure you for Pauly. I can’t say I’m sad that didn’t work out. I’d much prefer you for myself.”
My lips parted, and I let him settle in his chair.
“How is Pauly? I haven’t seen him in nearly two years.”
John’s smile wasn’t one of happiness, but I couldn’t decipher his emotions.
“He was home just last week. He came to see his mother for a few days. He’d like to return more except it’s hard for him to get away from work and his studies. Baxdrop has a very strict curriculum.”
“Of course.” I forced a smile. “I’m sad I did not get to see him. Maybe next time.”
“At least every holiday in the future.”
Was I smiling? It didn’t feel like it despite that I was trying my best.
“I can’t wait,” I managed.
“No?” One of his eyebrows lifted. “I can’t say I’d think you’d be in favor of this marriage. Surely, you’d much prefer Lord Shorelam. It was Edwin you went to see not too long ago, wasn’t it?”
“It was. He was delightful, but I’m not so sure we were compatible in the ways of a husband and wife. I didn’t know him very well, but there wasn’t…”
“Heat?”
“Y-Yes. There was none of that.”
I squirmed in my chair through the mortification. I didn’t want to talk about bodily reactions or lust to this man. I didn’t want to talk to him at all.
“I can see that. I dare say we’re much more suited than the two of you would have been. Edwin is a stiff. You would have been bored out of your mind. He doesn’t know how to treat a lady; I do.”
“Do you, My Lord?”
A smile pulled back slyly, and John grabbed my hand from the table, bringing it up to his mouth. When he flipped my wrist over and pressed his lips against the sensitive skin, I felt myself squirm again, and not in a good way.
“You have no idea. I’m going to spoil you, Penelope. I’m going to take you to places and show you things you couldn’t begin to imagine.” He held onto my hand, nibbling at the side of my thumb. “Where do you want to go first—on our honeymoon?”
“I-I…” I swallowed hard, engulfed by the dreaded crawling of my skin.
My mind screamed to run. To rip my hand free.
All I could do was let the dreams of a lifetime come flooding out over the fear.
Maybe the need to ramble was a panic response, but it was working in my case.
“Ocean. I want to go to a beach and stand in the sand. I want to feel the sun. I want to climb mountains so high and see trees so big they reach the sky. I want adventure.”
He laughed, biting into my flesh harder.
“And you’ll have it. I’ll show you everything. And you…” He reached over, scooting my chair closer. “You’re going to show me lots of things too, aren’t you?”
The door opened, and I jerked my hand down, my head swinging to the entrance. I didn’t know who or what to expect. Everything about the situation felt wrong. The need to flee was at an all-time high, but there was nowhere I could go.
Rose, our cook, came forward, placing down our plates.
All I could do was sit like a statue and pray the anxiety thrumming inside of me wouldn’t cause me to break.
If one tear fell, my entire facade would crumble.
I’d fall apart, and I couldn’t afford that.
If I ruined this, my father’s wrath was one I might not survive.
My mother had hinted at the worst, and I believed her.
“Thank you, Rose.”
My shaky voice had her nodding and leaving. John was already cutting into his roast, and I knew there was no way I was going to stomach mine.
“Where were we. Yes, our marriage.”
The side of my lips pulled back in a weak smile.
“We were speaking over where we would go.”
“We were.”
He motioned to my plate, continuing to eat. I picked up my fork, hesitantly bringing it up as I took in the way the order came so natural to him.
“I have an assignment for you, Penelope. Think of it as a clock. A beginning to this new adventure you seek.”
I pierced a potato, pausing just outside of my lips.
“Alright. What would you like me to do?”
I took a bite, taking in the way his stare kept hovering over my neck and chest. He licked his lips, dabbing them with a napkin before easing his gaze up.
“You will research locations. Write down as many as you like. Only choose your top three. You will give me a detailed summary of each one, listing the reasons why you chose them. I don’t want generic answers.
I want to see that you’ve given true thought to these destinations.
Look into the cultures, the food, and what each place has to offer.
” He took a bite, studying my face with such curiosity as he chewed that I felt my fear temporarily vanish.
When he swallowed, he nodded. “Look at your choices not as a tourist—but as a resident.”
“A resident?”
He smiled, reaching over to grab my free hand again. His fingers traced over my knuckles, moving over the surface repeatedly before he spoke.
“I know this decision wasn’t easy for you, or even up to you.
But I do wish to make you happy, Penelope.
I can make you happy.” He brought my hand up, placing a quick kiss over my ring finger.
“Make a list, and I will choose one of the three. I want to buy you a gift—a home just for us when we want to get away. One, that’s special from the very first night that we arrive. ”
A gasp left me, and I couldn’t help it.
“You want to buy me a vacation home as a wedding gift?”
His smile broadened. “Is it not a grand beginning to our adventure?”
“I… Yes, yes, of course. I’m sorry. I fear I’m at a loss of words. You want to buy me a home away from London?”
Was that giddiness mixed in with my shock? I shouldn’t feel giddy. I should feel appalled. I should feel guilty. How was my desperation for freedom so diluted by extravagances? A house… away from my father? Away from this life? Was I so easily bought?
“It’s only the beginning, my pet. Just wait until you see what I’m capable of. You won’t regret this. I’ll prove it.”
He dropped my hand, reaching into the inside of his jacket pocket. At the small black box, I felt the chair drop out from beneath me. But not because I fell… I was standing. I was standing and by the sheer will of God, I wasn’t running. I wanted to. I wanted to scream. To shake my head and cry, no.
“My dearest Penelope.” He opened the top of the box, displaying a large rectangular diamond with a band encased in smaller diamonds. “You can’t wear this out yet, but while you’re here, inside, I want you to keep this ring on. See it and know that soon, both of our lives will change forever.”
The chair scooted back, and he lowered to one knee, reaching up for my hand. I was shaking so badly, I could see myself trembling as he lifted my hand and withdrew the ring, sliding it on my finger.
“Marry me. Say yes and seal our deal. Tell me that it’s the two of us as soon as we’re able.”
“I…”
My mouth stayed parted and air cramped in my chest. Was I breathing?
Should I keep the air from returning? I didn’t deserve life if it meant being engaged to a dying woman’s husband.
This felt so wrong. So detestable. My mouth even tasted of this decision—metallic, immoral.
Downright criminal. But it was my way out.
Maybe the only way out of here alive. It would at least give me time.
I would endure. I would plan. I would wait.
“Yes. I accept.”