Chapter Eleven
Penelope
“Do you prefer the pale green or this lovely dark blue, my dear?”
Penelope opened her eyes at the question from Lady Blackthorne and hid a yawn behind her hand. She was exhausted from the shopping. The fittings. The endless stream of curious visitors to Blackthorne Manor. The constant invitations to balls and parties and soirees over the last few days.
A week had passed since she’d been discovered inside Simon’s townhome, and the scandal of it all had inflamed the ton’s insatiable appetite.
They hungered for any tidbit of information on the circumstances of the hasty engagement.
Ravenous for details on the shy girl who somehow eluded her parents and a fleet of Bow Street Runners for an entire month while hiding right beneath the nose of London’s last Mayfair Rakehell.
The news that the new couple declined to elope and instead procured a special license for a private wedding at St George’s in Hanover Square was all the ton could talk about.
“How daring of Lord Camden to flaunt his disregard for decency!” It was whispered behind upraised fans in the most fashionable ballrooms and in the backrooms of every gambling den.
That Simon refused to rush into marrying his compromised bride, insisting they had nothing to hide and no reason for haste, created quite a conundrum amongst London’s most dedicated scandalmongers and gossips.
“Either one is fine, my lady,” Penelope replied with a tired smile.
How on earth could one abide this much shopping?
It was all so terribly dull. She couldn’t care less which fabric made the best chemise or which shade of blue complemented her complexion.
The last time she’d been forced to endure even a tiny smidge of this activity was for her coming out three years before.
And even that did not compare to the daunting task of building a wedding trousseau.
“I know you are weary of all this fuss, my dear,” Lady Blackthorne said with a gentle smile, laying aside the fabric for a new ball gown. “But it is a task that must be done, and Simon has insisted that it be done well.”
“I apologize if I seem inattentive or ungrateful, Lady Blackthorne. I’ve not been sleeping very well,” Penelope admitted softly.
How could she sink into the blissful oblivion of slumber when the nights were fraught with dreams of Simon kissing her over and over?
She tossed and turned, tangling the sheets around her body, then came awake with a start, her fingers touching her lips as if reliving those moments in Simon’s study.
Every night was the same. Sleep, dream, wake fevered and restless, then hours spent staring at the ceiling contemplating this twist in her life’s path and her uncertain future as Simon’s wife.
And all while the space between her thighs ached with a yearning she did not understand, and images of Simon stroking his cock that first night at Camden House seared her brain.
Since arriving at Blackthorne Manor, Penelope only saw Simon on the few occasions he appeared as an escort to whatever social engagements he’d accepted on their behalf.
He had kissed her with bewildering passion that day in his study, but any enthusiasm for physical contact had apparently cooled.
The earl could barely bring himself to look at her.
Rarely touched her unless it was absolutely necessary.
And seemed wholly uninterested in having any meaningful conversation with her.
“He’s just being stubborn,” Emily had said, waving Penelope’s concerns away when she cautiously broached the subject.
“He needs a little more time to adjust to the reality of giving up his vaunted bachelor status. Not to mention there’s the relentless drubbing he’s taken from the other lords regarding how easily he was caught.
Once you are married and Simon realizes how simply marvelous it is, things will get better. I promise, Pen.”
Penelope sighed, remembering that conversation from the day before. Emily was cheerfully convinced that Simon would come around, but Penelope found herself more unsure than ever about her future and any hope for happiness.
Drawing her attention back to the present, Lady Blackthorne passed a hand over the crown of Penelope’s head before cupping her chin.
The older woman examined her future daughter-in-law with concerned kindness.
“I told Simon we should restrict the social engagements a bit. It seems to be overwhelming you.”
“I will be fine, truly. And I-I’ve no wish to disappoint Lord Camden by declining to attend any events he deems important. As his wife, I must become accustomed to a vigorous social schedule.”
Lady Blackthorne smiled. “You are such a sweet creature, little Penelope. I daresay you will make my son very happy, and I believe in return he will spoil you beyond measure. You may believe you are disappointing him, but Simon will understand if you curtail your attendance at various events until after the wedding next week. He doesn’t want you exhausted from this whirlwind of activity. ”
Penelope nodded, but she already knew she would do whatever Simon wished her to do.
If he wanted to parade her around town, she would follow.
If he wanted to keep her in seclusion, she would abide by that as well.
In this situation, she was at his mercy, and after years of dealing with her demanding, socially greedy parents, she knew better than to resist.
She watched her future mother-in-law flit around the shop, selecting different swaths of fabric and consulting with the dressmaker.
She really had no interest in what was chosen for the new trousseau.
With a grateful sigh, Penelope allowed Lady Blackthorne to take over all aspects of the process, trusting the elegant woman to make the decisions for her.
How fortunate she was that Simon’s parents seemed ecstatic about the wedding. She’d been so worried that they might reject her in some manner or worse, blame her for trapping their son.
But it was just the opposite. Lord and Lady Blackthorne welcomed her with warm, open arms and treated her with the sort of kindness she’d never experienced with her own mother and father.
Lady Blackthorne cast a glance at the tall case clock in the corner of the dressmaker’s shop, then breathed out a tiny harrumph of annoyance.
“We must return home, dear. I’d nearly forgotten that your mother is coming today for an update on the wedding preparations.
I know you would rather not see her, but we must maintain civility for appearances’ sake, at least until after the ceremony.
” She frowned then added, “Simon insists upon that, too.”
*
“I think it is ghastly the way your father and I have been treated,” Lady True said, glancing toward the door where Simon’s mother had just exited. When her gaze snapped back to Penelope, she hissed, “And the way they hover about you…as though you have something to fear from your own family.”
Penelope said nothing to the accusations, choosing instead to quietly sip her tea.
Hopefully, Lady Blackthorne would return quickly.
Time spent alone with her mother was sure not to end well.
The lady was nearly combative in her attitude, but Lady Blackthorne remained graciously welcoming, which only endeared her all the more to Penelope.
A small smile curved her lips, her heart swelling with relief as she realized the truth in Mother’s words.
The entire Blackthorne family seemed focused on shielding Penelope from her mother and father.
“It has been left to me to inform you that this wedding to Lord Camden is in danger, daughter.” Lady True set her teacup down and peered at Penelope.
“It is beyond fantastical that you could still be a virgin after all this, but regardless, Lord Grant is still interested in having you as his bride. And since that marriage contract precedes the one Lord Camden forced upon us, you may yet still marry the man.” The lady’s gaze turned shrewd.
“You would be wise to choose Lord Grant to avoid any further scandal.”
Penelope’s eyes narrowed. No doubt there was some manner of financial gain for her parents if they were willing to abandon her marriage to Simon.
“Have you forgotten it was the horrid thought of marrying Lord Grant that prompted me to run away in the first place?” she asked calmly.
“Oh, you ungrateful creature,” her mother huffed, her tone sharp with exasperation. “How can we forget the trouble you have caused this last month?”
“You essentially sold me to the man, Mother,” Penelope countered. “Forgive me if I was not ecstatic to marry him.”
“And you are looking forward to being Camden’s bride in his place?” Mother sneered. “The man is a consummate degenerate. There are rumors of the unnatural path of his appetites. Mark my words, you will not be happy with him.”
Penelope shook her head. “When has my happiness ever mattered?” Taking another sip of tea, she stared at her mother over the rim of the teacup.
“Why would Lord Grant still seek to enforce the marriage contract? I am essentially a ruined woman with nothing to recommend me other than a newly discovered inheritance.” Understanding dawned on Penelope as she watched Mother squirm under such close observation.
“Ah, I see now. This has everything to do with that, does it not? What exactly did Lord Grant propose, Mother? That you split the riches if you could convince me to marry him? Because I know that is the only way you can obtain access to it after Lord Camden denied you.”
“Your family knows best how to utilize those funds, Penelope! Are you so dense that you cannot understand that Lord Grant would ensure your comfort for the rest of your days?” Mother argued angrily, but Penelope abruptly slammed her teacup down while rising to her feet.
“No, Mother. It would ensure your comfort, while I would be forced into marriage with a man I cannot abide. I would suffer his cruelty, and you would enjoy spending my inheritance.” Penelope took a deep, shuddering breath, desperately blinking away the tears of furious pain that blurred her vision.
“You would use me for your own financial gain while Lord Grant abuses me for some manner of twisted pleasure. You have no idea what type of man that one is. The things he said to me before about how he wished to hurt me. How could you even consider giving me to a man like that? At least Simon Blackthorne has shown me some small kindness. He may not be the perfect husband, but you did not choose him, and that fact alone raises his appeal. Please abandon any hope that I will wed someone other than him.”
Her mother stared at Penelope as though her usually quiet and shy daughter had suddenly levitated toward the ceiling of the Blackthornes’ east parlor.
The fierceness of Penelope’s words and the unexpected show of defiance sent a wave of scarlet red across Lady True’s cheeks.
She reached out to deliver a vicious pinch to Penelope’s arm, but she quickly sidled out of reach.
“Young lady, I am your mother and you will not—”
“And I am to be her husband, madam,” Simon interrupted from the doorway.
He leaned casually against the doorjamb, arms crossed over his chest. It was quite evident that he’d overheard most of the heated conversation between Penelope and her mother.
His jaw was clenched tight with restraint, his eyes as chilly as the Thames in the dead of winter.
“It seems my fiancée is too tenderhearted. You will find that I am not. I believe you should probably leave now.”
Penelope’s cheeks flushed, recognizing Simon’s attempt at solidarity. Why he should be so understanding was a mystery, but when his gaze caught hers, Simon gave her a little wink. She quickly sat back down, unable to explain why a feeling of safety drifted over her.
She watched as her future husband stalked into the parlor, his movements confident and unhurried.
He was dressed impeccably in a dark-gray suit, his snowy-white cravat glinting with a gold-and-diamond stick pin that caught the light.
Dark hair fell across his brow, his blue eyes unreadable as he approached the two women.
Penelope held her breath as he moved until he stood behind the settee upon which she sat, his leanly muscled form almost comforting.
To her utter astonishment, his fingers brushed the nape of her exposed neck.
Confused by the unexpected attention, Penelope remained frozen as he gently caressed the tender skin before his hand drifted down to the curve of her shoulder.
He lightly gripped her there as if in a subtle warning that she not try to escape.
Unable to see his features based on his position, she wondered if his usual sardonic smirk was now directed at her mother.
“I assure you, Lady True, I have little intention of allowing the woman I am to marry to be harassed or intimidated by relatives, or anyone else, for that matter.” The earl’s voice was a silky murmur of warning, compressing Lady True’s lips into a tight line.
“As I’ve taken on the responsibility of fulfilling Penelope’s needs before our union, I see no purpose for your being here in the first place.
Especially as it appears that Penelope does not desire your involvement in the preparations. ”
“This is highly unusual, Lord Camden,” Lady True sputtered in outrage, but Simon only laughed softly.
“This whole situation is highly unusual. More so because I am very concerned about Penelope’s happiness. Something that has not been your priority in the least.”
“Lord Grant has indicated he will contest this marriage. His contract takes precedent.” Lady True laid a hand against her bosom as if Lord Grant’s audacity disturbed her.
Penelope knew better, however. Her mother reveled in the chaos, hoping her dreams of a fortune falling into her lap would finally come true.
Simon’s fingers briefly tightened on Penelope’s shoulder, but again, he chuckled as if the older woman’s threats greatly amused him.
“I doubt Grant will be able to do much about it before the wedding takes place. And if he should feel so inclined to dispute the validity of our marriage, I welcome him to do so. I’m not averse to settling the matter on the field of honor. ”