Chapter Nine
Penelope wondered how long she had been absent.
Taken back in her memory to those dark days after her parents died.
It didn’t happen as often as it used to, but when it did, it could be frightening.
For her as well as for those around her.
She was a woman who knew her own mind, as well as being brave and forthright, and she had no trouble standing up for herself, but when Mortimer was upset with her, she fell to pieces.
It was embarrassing and infuriating, but she couldn’t seem to help it.
She felt as if she was back in the past, when the coach had tipped over and her parents had died, and she had found herself alone and solely responsible for her young brother.
The realization that she was all he had had been terrifying.
Now she wondered, had she failed him? Surely not.
She had done everything in her power to protect and care for him, but when the moment had finally come for her to follow her own dreams and desires, she had taken it.
And Mortimer had not gone without. She had scraped together the funds he needed, often going without herself, and yet he was still not satisfied.
Where had the sweet little boy gone, the one who had gazed up at her as if she were the moon and the stars to him?
The bond between them had been broken. Perhaps irreparably.
Today, her brother’s fury at her, the cruel and hurtful things he had said, had once again caused her to crumble.
That was bad enough, but Callum had seen her feebleness.
How was she to regain her authority as his tutor?
And that wasn’t the worst of it. People in the park had been watching, ladies and gentlemen and common folk, all of them reveling in her downfall.
They probably believed it was just what a woman like her deserved—How dare she try to claw her way back to respectability? And now they would all be gossiping.
She had worked so hard to put her past behind her, and although it could never be entirely forgotten, she had made some great strides. Now, through one awful moment, she had lost that hard won ground and was back where she started.
Well, it was done now. She must deal with it.
Stiffening her spine, she met Callum MacKenzie’s brown eyes.
What was she going to see in them? Pity?
Disgust? After she had accepted Lord Muir’s proposal, she had read both in the gaze of people she had thought her friends.
But to her surprise, Callum’s were warm with concern, and she felt the turmoil inside her settle a little.
Mortimer had decided his needs and wants were more important than hers, and Uncle Bertie only cared for her when she could continue to supply him with funds for his inventions.
And yet here was a man she barely knew, looking at her like he was prepared to do anything to make the situation better.
It made her feel confused, rather dizzy, and happy. A great torrent of happiness such as she had not felt in such a long while swept through her. A warm rush of gladness that he was here at her side.
And—she sat up straighter—it was quite, quite wrong!
Callum was her client, and she never allowed intimacies with her clients. No matter how attractive he was, and how much she wanted right now for him to lean down and capture her lips with his. How she longed to tuck herself into his arms and hold on. It could not happen.
Besides, he was frowning now. He was probably wondering why she was staring at him so foolishly. Penelope took in a deep breath while she tried to regain her equilibrium.
Remember who you are. Remember how much is riding on your business with this man. Even if, after today, you never receive another client request, you can still make Callum MacKenzie the best that he can possibly be. Surely that is a goal to aim for?
She found her voice. “I apologize for my brother. He has made us the subject of gossip, and I have no doubt the tale will soon be everywhere. That is not helpful to either one of us. But I am willing to press on with your lessons, if you are happy to allow me to do so. Perhaps we can start afresh tomorrow, MacKenzie?”
He looked thoughtful, and then, to her relief, he nodded briskly. “I am happy with our arrangement. And as I am already the subject of gossip, a wee bit more hardly matters. Tomorrow it is then, Miss Armstrong.”
Relieved, she managed a smile, which he returned. He really was such a handsome man, and that observation was not helpful.
Penelope stood up and looked around her at the room. Where was she again? Oh yes, the Countess of Strathmore’s London home. Selina had risen too, taking her lead from Penelope and preparing to leave, but she looked concerned.
“Are you sure you are well enough?” she said quietly, and then seemed to think better of it when Penelope shot her a warning look. “Of course you are!” She gave a nervous laugh. “What am I thinking? Everything is excellent.”
At that moment, a woman Penelope assumed to be the Countess of Strathmore opened the door and then stood staring at them all in amazement. “Hocking said there was a plague of persons in here, but I thought he was joking! Callum, explain yourself.”
“Hocking made a joke?” Callum asked with pretended incredulity. Then, seeing she was not amused, hurried on. “I apologize, Aunt Jennie, but as you know, we were at the park, and Miss Armstrong was indisposed. I knew you would not mind if I brought her here to recover. Which she has.”
The two of them exchanged a look, and then the countess gave Callum the sort of smile that always made Penelope’s heart ache. A loving smile, an understanding smile, the smile of a parent to a child—or in this case, an aunt to a nephew. A smile she would never receive again in her life.
“Miss Armstrong,” the countess spoke warmly, “despite the circumstances of your visit, I am glad you are here. Do tell me how my nephew’s lessons are progressing. Have you pulled him into ship shape, as my husband would say?”
Penelope was still shaken, but this was not the time to appear weak. She wrapped her famed serenity around her inner disquiet and answered confidently.
“The marquess will be in ship shape very soon. A few more lessons and he will be ready to appear at your ball in his honor. I am sure there will be ladies aplenty eager for his addresses.”
The countess looked pleased. “That is good to hear!” She hesitated and then went on with a frown. “However, that being said . . . it is my brother-in-law who wants him to find a virtuous and well-connected wife; I’d prefer he found one who made him happy.”
She spoke bluntly, and Callum looked embarrassed at being discussed so intimately.
“Surely both are possible?” Penelope said. “I know that it is rare to fall in love with one’s spouse, but it is not beyond the realm of probability.”
The countess’s lips twitched in amusement. “Indeed. My own marriage was a love match. And Callum’s parents are still disgustingly in love despite four children. I think it very unfair of them to ask their son to marry for anything other than love.”
Did she really believe that? If so, Penelope wondered what on earth the MacKenzies were thinking to send their son down to London on a quest for a wife.
Although the dream of being with someone you loved was a pleasant one, it was extremely unlikely.
Penelope could not hope for such an ending.
And even if it were possible, who on earth would offer for her, in the circumstances?
Besides, did she really want to fall in love and place her future in the hands of one man?
She had already known the highs and lows of life as a gentleman’s property, and that had left her determined to keep her independence and make her own way in the world.
Had one glimpse of Callum’s smile and his warm, brown eyes turned everything she had learned in the past ten years on its head?
Of course not!
And she reminded herself that even if by some unlikely chance Callum did set his sights on her, why would he feel the need to propose?
Marquesses did not marry women who were damaged goods.
Probably after one illicit night in her arms, in her bed, he would move on to his real objective—a suitable wife. And she would be left behind.
The countess was watching her with speculative, grey eyes and Penelope realized she had allowed the silence to go on for far too long. She pulled herself together and desperately hoped her face had not betrayed her ridiculous thoughts.
“Tomorrow we will resume our lessons in—in conversation,” she said, plucking a subject out of the air. She looked about and, seeing her bonnet and gloves, gathered them up. “And I will arrange for your nephew to attend a ball, to ensure his conduct is flawless.”
“Well, that sounds most satisfactory,” the countess said, clapping her hands. She glanced behind her, where Hocking was hovering outside the door. “Do excuse me, Miss Armstrong. My guests will be wondering where I am. Perhaps we will meet again?”
Penelope smiled and curtsied.
“And, my dear, I insist you take the carriage home. No, I will not take no for an answer!” And she was gone in a swirl of silk and perfume.
Penelope had found the countess polite and friendly, quite unlike most of the titled ladies she had previously come face to face with.
It made her feel almost hopeful, until she remembered the scene in the park.
Once the countess heard about that, she would almost certainly remove her nephew from such contagion.
Selina touched her hand and lifted an enquiring brow.
Penelope snapped herself out of her unhappy thoughts. “I will see you tomorrow,” she said, turning to Callum.
He was watching her somberly. She suspected he was going to ask if she needed his assistance with her brother, and she could not have that. She gave him a little curtsy and left the room.
The butler, Hocking, his nose in the air, opened the door for her and then shut it quickly.
“Well, that was awkward,” Selina said quietly at her side. “What are you going to do?”
“Resist,” Penelope said. “I am going to harden myself against him. Anything else is impossible.”
Selina seemed to be trying not to smile. “I meant what are you going to do about Mortimer, but it is good to know you are going to resist MacKenzie. I’m not sure I could.”
Realizing her mistake, Penelope avoided her maid’s eyes and said hurriedly, “It was unpleasant, yes. I am sure the gossips are spreading the news as we speak, but there is nothing I can do about it. Mortimer never thinks before he acts. In many ways, he is still a child. I am going to stand firm, even though I know we will be at odds for . . . I am sorry for it, but . . .” She swallowed, grief a lump in her throat.
“Thank goodness,” Selina retorted. “It is about time. You are doing the right thing.”
Penelope tried to smile but couldn’t quite manage it. Mortimer might never forgive her or understand why she had refused him when before she had always given in to his demands. In most ways, she was a strong and capable woman, but he was her one weakness. Was she to blame?
“You mentioned a ball?” Selina said.
Penelope gratefully jumped at the distraction. “Yes, I thought the Livingstones’ ball next week.”
Selina grinned. “You mean the Bohemian Ball?”
“Well, yes. It isn’t like I will be invited to Almack’s,” she retorted sharply. “And it doesn’t matter if it isn’t quite the thing. All MacKenzie requires is to dance and make conversation, just as he would at any ball. And I will see he does not get into any trouble.”
“They will seize upon him like starving cats,” was Selina’s delighted response.
Penelope did not answer. She would make sure nothing happened to Callum MacKenzie, and she would deliver him safely home to his aunt.
“You should wear your rose-pink gown,” Selina said with a glint in her eyes. “It suits you so well, and you never wear it these days.”
“Where would I go in it?” Penelope spoke lightly. “And this ball is not about me, Selina, as you well know.”
Selina hummed an answer, but Penelope wasn’t convinced. Her friend was up to mischief, and she suspected it had something to do with Callum MacKenzie.
“Before the ball, I will need to address MacKenzie’s choice of clothing,” she said thoughtfully. “Make an appointment with Doddington as soon as possible.”
Doddington had been Lord Muir’s tailor, and they had remained friends. Penelope used him for her clients whenever necessary, and he sent his customers to her if he thought they needed her help.
Penelope only hoped Callum was still her client after his aunt heard about Mortimer and the park.