Chapter One
Miss Penelope Jane True. Newly named heiress. Overlooked wallflower. Currently hiding in the unoccupied London townhome of one notorious—and completely oblivious—Mayfair Rakehell.
Penelope stretched her arms above her head, arching her back while breathing out a tiny moan of satisfaction.
She remained in that position for a long moment, stretching aching shoulder and neck muscles while carefully balancing a book in her lap.
Then, with a sigh of contentment, she snuggled back into a comfortable position on the overstuffed settee and reached for the cup of tea resting on the occasional table near her elbow.
The last month had been blissfully pleasant. An escape from the biting criticism served by her mother and the exasperated frustration courtesy of her father. And she would be lying if she did not admit that the respite from the harshness of society and its petty ugliness was also most welcome.
Her gaze flitted around the room, taking in the elegant drapes and richly paneled dark oak walls.
It was a lovely library, and she spent the majority of her time here, lounging about as she pleased, reading whatever books caught her fancy.
She played the piano in the music room whenever she had the notion to play and perused the financial papers the butler managed to procure.
She pretended the house was her own. And that she could do whatever she wanted… within reason, of course.
But there had been intrusions into the fantasy.
Most notably, there were two close calls in the past week when Lord Simon Blackthorne unexpectedly appeared at the townhouse.
She’d barely had time to glide down one of the many corridors before reaching the room she was using for her own.
Thinking of the earl’s last visit, Penelope’s heart fluttered in remembrance of the panic that she might be discovered.
But Lord Camden had simply toured the lower floors with his designer and architect, bypassing the numerous bedrooms and the private sitting rooms upstairs.
Penelope spent the time hiding in her bedroom, praying that the earl would remain uninterested in renovating the rest of the home now that the job was completed.
Her fears were only partially allayed by the missives she’d received from Emily.
Her dearest friend had sent word of Simon’s unexpected purchase of the residence from his father.
Plans were already underway to secrete Penelope elsewhere.
That is, as soon as Emily informed her new husband of what she’d done and persuaded him to help hide Penelope from her own parents.
Penelope chewed the tip of her fingernail, the book in her lap forgotten as she contemplated her situation.
It was impossible to hide forever, but if she could hold on just a bit longer, maybe Lord Grant would withdraw his signature on the marriage contract.
Her parents would have no choice but to allow it.
Without the bride, willing or not, there could be no agreement on marriage.
Her jaw clenched at the possibility of being wed to a man like Gregory Grant.
She sensed the cruelty lurking just below the man’s polished veneer, and it frightened her to consider being at his mercy.
The man indicated a willingness to hurt her, and her parents seemed perfectly at peace with handing her over for their own benefit.
Shaking her head, Penelope shoved aside the unpleasant thoughts of Grant and her parents. She was not so foolish as to believe she would be allowed to marry whomever she wished, but she’d always hoped that it would be to a man she somewhat liked.
Or at the very least, one intriguing enough that she could overlook his inevitable flaws.
Someone like Simon Alexander Blackthorne.
Penelope’s cheeks suffused with warmth as thoughts of her friend’s older brother flitted through her brain.
The man hardly acknowledged her existence, but there was little denying how attractive she found him.
Even if he was more than a bit arrogant and wicked, she could not help but be fascinated by him.
The strange thrill that erupted in the pit of her stomach every time his deep-blue eyes swept over her never failed in leaving her breathless.
And for some reason, Simon’s gaze sought hers too many times to count during her short stay at Thorne Park the month before.
His attention was both exhilarating and terrifying.
She had found herself melting into a mass of nerves every time, with the exception of a single instance.
It was when she angrily snapped at one of the earl’s more pointed questions, and that moment, glittering and sharp, was now etched into Penelope’s memory.
Something darkly intense had sparked in the man’s eyes, his jaw hardening until it seemed carved from granite.
Penelope, despite her agitation and crippling shyness, had unexpectedly thrilled to it.
Penelope sighed, pulling a long strand of her chestnut-brown locks over her shoulder and curling it around her forefinger.
Simon Alexander Blackthorne was a dangerous man, and he made her wonder things about herself that she’d kept suppressed for as long as she could remember.
Yes, she was shy, but she possessed a rebellious streak that reared its head now and then.
It alarmed her parents…enough so that they quickly suppressed any sparks of revolt Penelope exhibited.
But in the last few weeks, given the freedom of being on her own and the absence of her oppressive parents, there were quiet moments in which she searched her own soul.
After much reflection, Penelope arrived at an obvious conclusion.
She must do more when asserting herself.
Once she emerged from hiding, she would begin by demanding a stake in her own future.
Defying her parents would be challenging…
but necessary if she had any hope of enjoying the rest of her life.
Otherwise, she would be sold off like a prized broodmare and used for a man’s pleasure with no care for her own.
A slight knock on the door interrupted Penelope’s reverie. A second later, the lady’s maid whom Emily Blackthorne had arranged to help her poked her head in.
“Begging your pardon, miss, but a letter has arrived from the Countess of Wyldewood.” Sally entered the room, her pretty features drawn into a frown as she approached Penelope. “Oh, Miss Penelope. You did not eat a bite of your lunch.”
Penelope smiled, swinging her legs off the settee and laying aside the book detailing the treaties of ancient Rome. Thinking quickly, she snatched a sandwich off the small tray beside the teapot and bit into the corner of it. “I honestly forgot, Sally. I was so engrossed in my book, you see.”
Sally tsked under her breath, a reluctant grin lifting the corners of her lips. “I can bring you something else, if you like. You know Cook will prepare anything you desire.”
Waving a hand, Penelope brushed off the suggestion.
“Oh, no. That is not necessary. I’m perfectly content…
ham and watercress is my favorite sandwich.
Besides, I would not want to bother Cook…
he already does too much.” She took a gulp of tea and another bite of the sandwich.
“Everyone has been so very kind to me…a trespasser with no other place to go, unfortunately.”
Sally handed over the letter. “The entire household adores you, Miss Penelope. Surely, you know that.”
Penelope gave the young maid a pensive smile.
“I do wish I could stay here forever.” She turned the letter over in her hands, staring at the red wax seal bearing the Wyldewood crest. For a moment, apprehension paralyzed her.
What if Emily’s letter bore additional bad news?
What if she failed in convincing Lord Wyldewood to be a party to this farce?
What if Emily said she had to leave? Where on earth would she go at this point?
Three weeks had passed…her parents must surely be coming to the realization that she was missing.
Sliding a fingernail under the wax, Penelope broke the seal and opened the missive.
My dearest Penelope,
I realize this situation has been very trying for you. And while I’ve experienced untold joy these past few weeks as Wylder’s wife, I have secretly agonized for you, sweet friend.
I have not found the courage yet to enlist Wylder’s help in this matter, but I have come to a solution.
It is necessary, as rumors are beginning to swirl regarding your absence from society.
The most terrible thing has happened. Your parents have become aware that you are missing and are actively searching for you.
We need more time if we are to avoid your union with Lord Grant.
By the end of this week, we shall return to London to partake in the remainder of the season.
My plan is to move you from the Curzon townhome to Wyldewood Lodge, but I cannot logistically arrange this until after our arrival.
I shall beg Wylder’s assistance at that time and hope for the best. Can you imagine my brother’s reaction if he discovers we’ve hidden you right beneath the ton’s nose this entire time at his own townhome?
I shudder to think of what Simon might do…
and of course, there is the reality of my own, unavoidable punishment.
Wylder will be most unhappy when he learns the full extent of my meddling.
Although I know he will not truly harm me—the man adores me beyond imagination—I shall indeed find it uncomfortable to sit upon even the most luxuriously cushioned seat for a while.
Well, enough of my future troubles. For now, I offer you the following words of encouragement. Continue being brave, darling Pen. I still believe all will end well, and happiness shall be yours once we’ve worked out this tangle of affairs.
Until I see you again, my dearest friend, I send you all my love.
Emily