Chapter Nine
Penelope
“He knows I’m here.” Penelope set her book down, her gaze leveled on the maid.
Sally nodded, breathless and fighting to hold back panicked tears.
“Oh, miss. He certainly does know. I-I don’t know how, but your parents have found you, and they are here with Lord and Lady Wyldewood and the constable.
There are two other men as well…they appear most frightening, Miss Penelope.
” The tears finally broke free, flowing down Sally’s pale cheeks. “I’m terrified for you, Miss Penelope.”
“Everything will be well, Sally,” Penelope said.
A strange sense of calm had come over her the moment Sally burst through the door into the small room Penelope had claimed as her own.
She should be frightened out of her wits, but for some reason, she felt relief that this was the end of any need to continue hiding.
No matter what manner of punishment her parents devised, she had already determined she would not be bound to it.
And the decisions she must now make played out in her mind as Sally wrung her hands and cried.
A convent. I’ll find refuge there as so many penniless, ruined women before me have done. Taking the vows may be drastic, but I may not have any other choice. Mother and Father are sure to disown me after this. And Lord Grant will surely no longer wish to wed me.
A slight knock came at the door, and Penelope thought Sally might faint dead away. As for herself, her heart pounded with fear, but still, she maintained her composure.
“Who-who is it?” Penelope asked, rising from the small, overstuffed chair positioned by the small window.
She’d been using the tiny pool of sunlight streaming through the window to read by and had spent the entire morning immersed in a book of Shakespeare’s plays.
Her backbone straightened at a sudden thought.
Had the earl come for her himself? Did he mean to throw her out into the streets upon learning of her subterfuge?
“It’s me, Pen.” Emily’s voice was soft but resolute. “Open the door, dear.”
Penelope sighed heavily, resting her hand on the doorknob. Why would they send Emily to haul her before the small party of executioners waiting for her? Did she volunteer? Or was this part of her punishment for her part in the whole disastrous affair?
A wave of nausea swept over Penelope at the thought of her friend suffering simply because she’d offered to help.
The moment the door cracked open, Emily flung herself into Penelope’s arms, a whirlwind of sweet perfume, tears, and silk.
“Darling, darling Pen. I’m so sorry this is happening. If only…if only we had more time. I could have moved you out of this house before my brother ever discovered you were here.” Emily pulled back, her blue eyes searching Penelope’s face. “I hope you will forgive me one day for this.”
“Forgive you?” Penelope murmured, wiping her own tears from her cheeks.
“I am the one begging your forgiveness. My situation and your willingness to help me have placed you in terrible straits with your brother. But there is some good to come out of this. I have discovered the necessary backbone to stand up to my parents’ tyranny.
I shall not marry the man they have sold me to.
Lord Grant will not have the pleasure of calling me his wife.
You see, I’ve decided I shall enter a convent to avoid that dreadful fate. ”
Emily’s expression crumbled. “Oh, my sweet friend. Your future is no longer tied to Lord Grant, and it’s definitely not in your parents’ greedy hands.
Everyone in London will know of this scandal before teatime tomorrow, and there is no escaping what will come.
” Her voice dropped to an anguished whisper.
“You will have no choice but to marry Simon. He is the worst sort of rakehell, I know, but his sense of honor is deeply entrenched. At this very moment, he is in his study, along with my husband and Lord and Lady True, as the details are worked out. A constable and two Bow Street Runners wait in the parlor in case the contract negotiations fall apart.”
“Contract?” Penelope repeated, puzzled by Emily’s heavy despondency. “I don’t understand.”
“You are marrying Simon, Penelope.” Emily’s laugh was a partial sob.
“You will soon become Lady Camden…one of many titles you will hold. You shall be my sister in truth and part of our family. And you never need to speak to your parents again if you so choose. The damnable thing about all this…the most unfair thing of all this…is you were truly on the brink of freedom, and it has been cruelly snatched out of your hands.” Emily reached out, taking one of Penelope’s cold hands in hers.
She squeezed it tight. “You are an heiress, Penelope. A distant aunt you likely never met has left you her entire fortune. And with that windfall came your chance to forge your own path.” Emily stared at Penelope, her gaze full of regret.
“This is why I beg your forgiveness, Pen. If not for my actions, if I had not hidden you here…”
Penelope could not move. An icy weight was holding her in place, and its chill had somehow wrapped about her body until she was frozen.
She heard the words coming out of her friend’s mouth and Sally’s soft cries behind her as she packed Penelope’s few belongings without being asked.
But everything seemed to be coming from miles and miles away as if it were drifting up from the bottom of a vast, deep ocean to reach her ears.
Married? To Simon? It cannot be true…it just cannot.
She swayed a little on her feet, and Emily’s expression shifted to anguished concern.
“It is a shock, I know, Penelope. And I know how terribly frightened you must be, but Simon will be a good husband. Rakehell or not, he will be a good husband, Pen. Just like my Wylder is to me. And Lord Ashcroft is to Charlotte.”
Penelope’s lips lifted in a sorrowful smile.
“But Lord Wyldewood loves you, Emily. He wanted you more than anything in this world. And Lord Ashcroft and Charlotte—they were obviously meant to be together. Your brother…your brother barely knows I’m alive.
We’ve exchanged no more than a handful of words over the years I’ve known your family.
He will hate me for being the end of his freedom.
He will resent having me as a burden. Me…
the quiet, shy, awkward girl who could not secure a husband on her own.
” She laughed softly. “No. He will not be happy having me as his wife.”
“I can only pray you are wrong about that. You deserve more than a cold, empty marriage.” Emily hung her head and said in a soft voice, “I must bring you to him now, Pen. They are waiting. He’s waiting.”
*
Upon reaching Simon’s study, Emily tried to enter the room first, but Penelope laid a hand on her friend’s arm.
“I’m not afraid, Emily,” she murmured, giving the other girl a soft smile. “In fact, I’m glad it is over. I am weary of running and not knowing what the future holds. As awful as it is, at least I know what to expect going forward. And now, I must be brave, something I rarely am.”
“That is not true,” Emily replied in a fierce whisper. “You are the bravest person I know, Penelope Jane True. And you are kind and generous and smart. My brother is the luckiest man in all of England to have you as a wife. Even if he doesn’t realize it yet.”
Penelope nodded, her eyes prickling with tears as she pushed past Emily to enter the study.
The chill in the room was tangible. Penelope’s gaze immediately went to the large desk that took up a good portion of the space.
Seated behind it was the Earl of Camden.
The expression on his face was so cold, so stony, that for a moment, Penelope’s resolve faltered.
Simon looked like the devil himself behind that desk.
Judge and executioner. Ready to make her pay for her deceptiveness.
He did not rise, as proper etiquette required. Instead, he remained seated behind the desk, his gaze shuttered from hers. Penelope shivered, but with resolute determination and shaky courage, she moved farther into the room.
“Lord Camden,” she addressed him in a low voice.
Unsure of the protocol in a situation such as this, her eyes darted around the room, taking in every detail.
Her parents stood just to her left, with Lord Wyldewood standing on the right side of the room.
Emily sidled up to her husband, a grateful smile tilting the corners of her mouth as Wylder tucked her hand into the crook of his arm.
Penelope nodded at the man, “My lord.” Her gaze clashed with her parents. “Father. Mother.”
Then she shrank back as her mother advanced upon her.
“You wanton, wicked creature!” Lady True hissed, gripping Penelope’s elbow and jerking her closer.
“Do you have any idea of the trouble you’ve caused your father and me?
” She pinched Penelope’s forearm with such viciousness that tears sprang to her eyes.
“We’ve been searching for you for weeks. Weeks!”
“Y-you’re hurting me,” Penelope cried out softly. “Please, Mother—”
A sudden, loud bang echoed in the room. Penelope jumped, and while her mother did not loosen her grip, the lady half turned toward the sound. She breathed out a soundless gasp of outrage as she stared at the earl.
Simon stood behind the desk, leaning forward with his fists curled after striking the wood.
Anger rolled off him in hot, oppressive waves entirely contradictory to his previous icy demeanor.
His mouth was a straight line of disgust as he glared at Penelope’s mother, and his eyes…
Lord, his eyes…glowed like the dark, blue flames of hellfire behind a pair of wireframed spectacles.
“Madam,” he rasped in low, hoarse fury. “If you wish to keep your hand, I suggest you remove it at once from my fiancée.”
Lady True’s features melted into a scowl at the threat of violence, but she reluctantly let go of Penelope. “She has disgraced our family and must be reprimanded.”
“I doubt she has very much to do with the current state of you and your husband’s reputation,” Simon murmured, his gaze flicking over Penelope where she stood trembling, her fingers rubbing the spot where her mother had so cruelly pinched her.
“As for any punishment she may have coming, that shall be my prerogative.”
“Here now, Penelope is still our daughter,” Lord True blustered, waving a hand toward Penelope. “We still have the right to do with her as we see fit.”
“No. You don’t.” Simon’s voice remained calm.
“You have effectively sold her to me. With the scandal now attached to my own family’s name as a result of her reckless actions, she is mine to do with as I see fit.
” He stared at Penelope while he spoke, his gaze heavy and unblinking as he repeated himself. “She’s mine.
Penelope swallowed down a frisson of fear. It sat lodged in her throat along with a tiny whimper that threatened to break free despite her best efforts to retain her dignity.
“Simon,” Emily began, only to be yanked back against her husband.
“Foolish little minx,” Wylder said in a firm tone, his mouth brushing his wife’s ear. “I would remain silent if I were you in this situation. You’re in enough trouble as it is. Allow your brother to handle this. After all, Miss True is his responsibility now.”
“Thank you, Wylder,” Simon smirked as he removed his glasses and laid them aside. “If I may ask a favor of you? See to the drawing up of the contract and escort Lord and Lady True to the parlor. Lord True, you may dismiss both the constable and the runners while we wait for the papers to sign.”
“What about our daughter?” Lady True dared ask, and Penelope wished she possessed the audacity to tell the woman to shut her mouth. Could her mother not comprehend the danger of the situation? If she continued pushing Simon, there was no telling what the man might do.
“I will speak with Miss True in private.”
Lord True’s jaw dropped. “In private? Someone must remain in the room as a chaperone.”
Simon laughed out loud at that, the sound mirthless and cold.
“She’s roamed my house for a month now without the benefit of a chaperone, sir.
It is a little too late to concern oneself with propriety.
” His gaze almost felt warm as he considered Penelope, his head cocking slightly to the side. “Isn’t that right, little mouse?”
Penelope did not trust herself with words. She simply nodded, her head lowering until she could only see the tips of her shoes and the plain flounce of her dress hem.
She remained still and silent as the others trailed out of the room, the door clicking shut, indicating she and Simon were alone.
His footsteps were almost soundless on the expensive Turkish carpet, but Penelope heard them anyway as he approached. Each fall of his heel echoed in the thump of her heart, and her pulse raced faster the closer he came. She wondered if she might faint as she swayed, her head dizzy.
For a long moment, there was nothing but the stillness of the room, the quiet punctuated by the occasional street noise of a passing carriage and the shout of an irate driver.
Apprehension continued crawling along Penelope’s veins, marking her with its icy trails until Simon finally spoke.
His voice was husky with his anger, and she shook despite herself at the sound of it.
I can be brave. I will be brave.
“Look at me, Penelope.”