Chapter Twenty-Five #2
“Your first true social event as husband and wife,” he continued, a faint smile curving his lips.
“Not counting that fleeting moment last night when you were spotted together at the Heywards’ soirée and the brief appearance at the Tammerlins’ ball.
I find it impressive that he’s let you out of his sight so soon. ”
Had Gregory spied on them? Or had he received that bit of information from her mother?
Penelope’s lips tightened, horror blooming in her chest at the thought someone might have seen them in the gazebo.
If there was even the slightest possibility that Gregory witnessed that intimate moment, Penelope was sure Simon would kill the man.
“My husband has merely stepped away for a moment,” she retorted, her voice steady despite the tension coiling within. A wave of anxiety rushed over her as she imagined Simon returning to find Gregory lingering too closely.
“There you are, darling girl.”
The arrival of the Countess of Blackthorne cut through the vibrant buzz of the ballroom, halting whatever words Gregory might have been about to utter.
Penelope’s face lit up at the sight of Simon’s mother, relief washing over her.
The older woman pressed a light kiss to Penelope’s cheek, her expression radiating genuine affection.
Yet the icy glare she directed at Gregory was anything but gracious.
It was as though she regarded him as an unwelcome insect in need of eradication.
Gregory pressed a kiss to the countess’s gloved hand, but her barely perceptible nod of acknowledgment felt more like an act of endurance than a greeting.
“It is my understanding that Simon was your escort tonight, my dear,” Lady Blackthorne addressed Penelope, but her sharp eyes scanned the bustling crowd. “I had hoped to find him in your company.”
Penelope smoothed the delicate fabric of her dress, a flutter of nervousness prompting her gaze to dart around the lavish room. “He is indeed here, my lady. He must still be at the refreshment table. His intention was to bring me a glass of lemonade.”
Lady Blackthorne’s keen gaze was drawn to the delicate champagne flute cradled in Penelope’s hand, a subtle arch of her brow conveying both curiosity and scrutiny.
“It is quite the crush here tonight,” she remarked, her voice smooth yet laced with an undercurrent of tension.
Her attention again shifted to Gregory, who stood quietly, his expression composed while his eyes remained fixated on Penelope.
“I’m surprised to see you, Lord Gregory.
I’m quite sure that my son would prefer that you keep your distance from our dear Penelope. ”
Gregory’s lips curved into a disarming smile. “That is most likely true,” he admitted amiably. “However, there is no need for concern on his part. I have chosen not to pursue the marriage contract I once entertained with Miss True. Rather pointless now, wouldn’t you agree?”
“It’s Lady Camden now, Lord Grant,” Penelope interjected, her voice sharp with irritation. “You would do well to remember that.”
“I beg your forgiveness, Lady Camden,” Gregory replied, a soft laugh escaping his lips as he executed a polite bow, his demeanor deceptively nonthreatening amid the burgeoning tension.
His gaze flickered from Penelope to a point just beyond her line of sight.
“Allow me to extend the same apologies and heartfelt congratulations to you, Lord Camden.”
“Lord Grant.” Simon’s deep, velvety voice suddenly whispered close to Penelope’s ear, sending a shiver down her spine.
She felt an overwhelming urge to lean against the comforting warmth of his body, yet his tense demeanor kept her rigid with unease.
“I see my quest for refreshments has proved futile.” One muscular arm encircled her waist like a band of iron, weighty and unyielding, while in his other hand, he held the glass of fresh lemonade.
A ripple of apprehension coursed through Penelope, reminding her that this truce between the two of them was very fragile.
She turned toward Simon, a forced smile adorning her lips as she looked up into his steady, unwavering gaze.
“Lord Grant was generous enough to offer me a glass of champagne,” she explained quietly.
“Indeed,” Simon replied, his voice calm as a still pond, yet laced with an undercurrent of something darker.
“By all means, Lady Camden, indulge in your champagne.” Leaning in, as if intent on placing a tender kiss at her temple, he murmured low against her ear, his breath warm against her skin, “Remember this moment, little mouse. I expect you to accept your punishment without a hint of complaint.”
Flames ignited within Penelope. Even though Simon had spent most of the afternoon ruthlessly driving her to climax again and again, her body responded to his words with immediate yearning.
She wanted his mouth on hers. The weight of his body pinning hers down while he took what he desired.
But the realization she would be punished over a simple glass of champagne mingled with frustration at her body’s reaction to his threat.
It provoked her into a display of rebellion that she would surely regret.
Penelope shot a fierce glare at her overbearing and insufferable husband.
In a fit of defiance, she raised the champagne glass to her lips and downed the bubbly liquid in a single, audacious gulp.
The alcohol burned its way down her throat, igniting a fiery trail as she fought back a sputtering cough, her eyes slightly watering from the intensity.
“My dear girl, are you all right?” Lord Blackthorne said in a concerned tone as he moved to stand beside Simon’s mother.
“I’m fine, Your Lordship,” Penelope managed, her eyes flitting to Simon as she struggled to regain her composure.
Unfazed, Simon narrowed his eyes in disapproval, a familiar expression that often accompanied Penelope’s few rebellious moments.
He gently pried the now-empty glass from her trembling fingers and replaced it with a cup of lemonade.
“You should have obeyed me and waited for the lemonade instead,” he murmured in a tone dripping with condescension.
She was spared the need to respond as Simon greeted his mother with a kiss on her cheek. Lord Blackthorne handed Lady Blackthorne a glass of claret, his expression bemused when his gaze touched on Gregory.
“Lord Grant, you are either the most foolhardy man in all of England or the bravest,” Lord Blackthorne chuckled.
“I am neither, sir,” Gregory replied with a nod of his head to the earl.
“However, I am intelligent enough to recognize that my presence is not desired. If you will excuse me, I shall seek out more hospitable company. Again, accept my best wishes on your marriage, Lord and Lady Camden. May it bring you both happiness.” His gaze roamed over Penelope with such insolence that Simon let out a low growl of warning.
Bending at the waist, Gregory smiled, seemingly delighted by Simon’s show of possessiveness. “I bid you a good evening.”