Chapter 10
Hugo did not see much of Penny for the rest of that day as she joined Mrs. Robson and her children in the kitchen to help create the garlands.
And the kissing ball.
He cursed himself for a fool. If he had kept his self-control just a little longer, he might have been able to continue to conceal his feelings from Penny.
Now she could be in no doubt, and he felt almost naked, unsure what she would do.
Would she be cold to him for taking liberties?
Would she be indifferent, kindly explaining she could never feel the way he did and then flitting away out of his life for good?
He was too afraid to think what might happen if she kissed him in turn, so he remained in the taproom, observing the occupants and sipping small beer.
The men seemed to anticipate the Christmas Eve preparations as a welcome break in the tedium of being snowed in.
Some of the younger men and boys built forts outdoors and had snowball fights in the afternoon, but Hugo liked his comfort too well to risk receiving a ball of ice to the face.
As the sun began to sink in the sky, Mrs. Robson stepped into the room and clapped her hands for attention. “Gents, we’ll need your help with this part.”
With alacrity, the men who had not drunk too deeply that afternoon got to their feet as Penny and the Robson children—mostly the girls—brought in the garlands to be hung, evergreens dotted here and there with ribbons and sprigs of holly.
He had to admit they looked quite nice, better than he had expected.
He stood near Penny as she directed two of the men. Her movements were a little stiff, showing she had overexerted herself with gathering the greens and helping to create the garlands.
“Go sit down, Penny,” he murmured just loud enough for her to hear, and she tilted her head to scowl at him. She did have the most adorable scowls.
“I am quite all right, thank you, Captain Dalston.”
She squeaked as he slid his arm around her waist and bent to whisper in her ear. “You are not all right, and there is no one here you need to make a good impression on.” As she tried to tug away, he added, “Don’t you want to be able to dance tomorrow night?”
She bit her lip, and he could see the indecision in her face. At last, she nodded ungraciously and allowed him to lead her to a seat by the fire as the room hummed with activity around them.
Mrs. Robson bustled up. “There you are, Mrs. Dalston! We’ll need more bows for the garlands, if you don’t mind.” She dropped scissors and reels of ribbon on the bench next to Penny, winked broadly at Hugo, and hurried off again at a call from the other side of the room.
“I suppose this is all I’m good for,” Penny sighed.
“Playing with ribbons.” Still, she began cutting lengths and experimenting with different ways to make the bows, layering different colors of ribbon together or creating extra loops to make them resemble flowers.
Despite her cynical words, the Robson children snatched each one up almost as soon as she completed it, bringing the bows to their mother so she could direct the men where to hang them.
From somewhere in the stables, a tall ladder was produced, and everyone watched with bated breath as Mr. Robson himself affixed the kissing ball to the ceiling.
It was near the center but a little offset, and Hugo resolved to keep himself and Penny as close to the edges of the room as he could.
There was no point in complicating matters between them with a public kiss.
Hugo was surprised he was not called on to assist the hanging, but everyone in the room seemed to know what was expected, so he held his peace.
Clearly, this had been a tradition at the inn for many years, and he would only end up stepping on someone’s toes—literally or figuratively—if he tried to jump in.
Instead, he leaned against the tall back of the bench Penny sat on and watched her create beauty again and again with only a few pieces of ribbon at her disposal.
Once the decorating was completed to Mrs. Robson’s satisfaction, the workers were provided with steaming cups of punch, which they used to toast each other and their hosts.
Hugo fetched punch for Penny and himself and sat next to her on the bench, puzzled.
Everyone else seemed to be waiting for something to happen, but Hugo was unsure what it could be. Unless…
Faintly, he began to hear the beat of a drum outside the inn, moving closer and closer as the rest of the instruments began to play.
He knew that sound.
“Oh, God.”
Before he could pull Penny to her feet and excuse them from the taproom, the door burst open to reveal a group of mummers, the decorated horse’s skull used as a puppet peering from behind the lead man, bobbing and weaving as though it was looking around the room.
Penny clapped her hands in delight. “Mummers!”
Hugo shifted closer to her. He told himself it was only so he could be nearby if she needed his help.
“A wedding!” Clad in faded red robes, the masked man in the doorway looked expectantly around the taproom. “We have come to greet the newlyweds!”
Hugo groaned as the rest of the crowd turned to them, hooting and cheering. Penny elbowed him in the ribs, a wide grin on her face. “Don’t be a spoilsport, Hugo. Not on Christmas Eve.”
Mr. Robson ceremoniously waved the mummers in and a group of five spilled through the door, all in costume. The mummer operating the horse’s skull was covered in a green brocade cloak that Hugo suspected moths might have gotten at during the summer.
He looked down at Penny, whose face was lit with delight at the mummers’ antics, and sighed inwardly.
He could not bring himself to dampen her enthusiasm for the vulgar entertainment they were about to witness even as the man in the red cloak cleared his throat and began to declaim the familiar words:
Silence, brave Gentlemen, if you will give an eye.
Alexander is my name, I’ll sing the tragedy.
A ramble here I took, the country for to see.
Three actors I’ve brought so far from Italy.
The first I do present, he is a noble king…
A teenage boy in a mask and paper crown strutted forward and bowed to the gathered audience, nearly tripping over the wooden sword stuck into his belt.
“That’s our Henry,” Mrs. Robson whispered to Penny in a tone that carried through the taproom. “It’s his first year with the mummers, it is.”
“How lovely!” Penny whispered back, and gave a small but enthusiastic wave to the young man, who straightened with pride.
It all unfolded as it ought: after slyly singing about their anticipated Christmastide rewards, the exchange of insults and bawdy jokes between Alexander and the Prince commenced, to the delight of the crowd, who cheered and hooted at each exchange, especially when the Prince promised Alexander:
I’d wish to you a wife, both lusty and young,
She can talk both Dutch, French, and the Italian tongue
Hugo knew Penny regarded him quizzically at the crowd’s reaction to this line, and carefully avoided looking at her. After that morning’s kiss, he feared he might be all too tempted to answer any of her naive questions with a demonstration.
With Prince George restored to life by the quack doctor carrying the horse’s skull, it was time for Alexander and the King of Egypt to battle each other, first with words, and then with their wooden swords.
Henry Robson was clearly having the time of his life, able to do and say things in front of his parents as the King of Egypt he would never dare on his own.
He drew in his breath to deliver the final insult before the fight began.
“And thy breath stinks like the Devil’s arse— "
Young Henry caught Hugo’s stern eye and swallowed the next word, to the general laughter of the gathering.
Penny hissed, “What was— "
“Hush, Penny. I’m trying to hear the rest.”
The play came to its fatal conclusion, with the “dead” characters immediately bouncing up to sing the conclusion with the group as they circulated through the crowd, holding their hands out for donations as they went.
Henry stopped before Hugo and lifted his mask to give him a cheeky wink. “Alms for the mummers, Captain?”
At Penny’s significant look, Hugo sighed and dug a crown out of his pocket, tossing it to the delighted boy, who bowed low to Penny and pranced off to show his friends.
“Henry seemed to forget his lines at that one point,” Penny mused. “I wonder what he was supposed to say.”
“Something traditional, I’m sure,” Hugo replied hastily. “Would you like another cup of punch?”
To his alarm, she leaned in close to murmur, “I think we need to have a discussion tonight.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. About… about this morning.” She was blushing fiercely, and he suspected he was blushing as well.
“There’s nothing to discuss,” he said dismissively.
Her eyes searched his face before she sat back with a sigh. “You can’t run away from everything, Hugo.”
“So speaks the runaway.” She flinched, but he could not back down. “Come. I’ll escort you upstairs.”
He stood, all but forcing her to take his hand and allow him to help her from her seat. She waved to Mrs. Robson and a few of the children as Hugo swept her from the room and up all three flights of stairs.
The last—the absolute last—thing he wanted was to have a discussion with Penny about that kiss. Especially since he had not the least idea of what he should say.
At the door to their room, he unlocked it and allowed her to go inside. She studied him as he remained in the doorway.
It was Christmas Eve. The very day Penny was to have married Oliver. And he, Hugo, was here with her instead. Getting ready to share a bed with her. Perhaps more, if he followed what both of their inclinations seemed to be.
On the very night she had been supposed to be deflowered by his brother.
“I’m going back down to the taproom.” He handed her the key. “Lock it behind yourself.”
“But…”
He whirled and descended the stairs as though all the hounds of hell were after him.
Slowly, Penny closed the door and turned the key in the lock. She had never supposed Hugo to be a coward, but he was certainly acting like one tonight.
As she wrestled with the hooks of her dress, she decided it was for the best. She was not entirely certain how she felt either.
As she washed, she was angry. How dare he abandon her like this, when he was the one who had insisted they share a room.
As she donned her nightgown, she realized she was expecting to hear his footsteps on the stairs, returning to the room, ready to explain himself.
Surely he would not abandon her. Not now, when they seemed to be on the verge of a change neither of them had expected or sought. She stood on the threshold of an open door she could not go through without him. He must come back so they could talk.
It was not until the fire had burned low and her eyes were grainy with exhaustion that she accepted he was not returning to their room that night. Numb, she pulled the covers to her chin and tried to sleep. Alone.
“Merry Christmas!”
Startled, Hugo jerked awake, sitting up to find Robson standing over him.
“I tried to rouse you last night, Captain, but you was dead to the world.”
After the quantity of rum he had consumed, Hugo was not surprised Robson had allowed him to sleep it off in the taproom rather than insist Hugo risk his neck trying to navigate the stairs.
He rubbed said neck, which was stiff from sleeping with his head on the table. His cheek was sticky, most likely from lying in a pool of rum all night.
“You’d best go back upstairs, Captain. P’haps she’ll have cooled off by now.”
Hugo grunted, willing to allow Robson to assume he and Penny had quarreled rather than admit the sadder truth that he was afraid to speak with her. He did not know which outcome would be worse: discovering she did not return his feelings… or discovering that she did, and he was too cowardly to act.
Head pounding, Hugo heaved himself to his feet, leaning against the rough table to gain his balance. He had not drunk that deeply since he was a junior lieutenant. Clearly, he was out of practice.
Penny Montgomery was enough to drive any sane man to drink.
“Parson won’t be able to make it through the snow, and we can’t get to the church, so someone will need to read from the Good Book this Christmas morning.”
Robson gave him a significant look. Hugo wanted to refuse, but they both knew it was Hugo’s social duty as the highest-ranking, and likely most educated, man at the inn. Unless a prince or an admiral came pounding at the door, he could not honorably escape it.
“Allow me to wash and change,” Hugo said, resigned. “In an hour, perhaps.”
Robson grinned and clapped Hugo on the back, sending him staggering. “That sounds grand, Captain.”
As Hugo climbed the stairs, his stomach grew more and more cold. What would he say to Penny? How would he explain himself?
The door to their room was flung open as he approached, and a scowling Penny stood in the doorway.
Unexpectedly, his heart soared at the sight of her. Even when she was angry with him, nothing felt more natural than being in her company.
“Fasten me up. Mrs. Robson needs my assistance.”
She turned her back to him and he obeyed, fingers clumsy as he did up the hooks. When he was done, she brushed past him and began to descend the stairs.
“Penny!”
She paused, but did not turn.
“We will… we will talk tonight.”
She nodded stiffly before continuing down the stairs. He closed the door to begin getting cleaned up and dressed.
He knew he needed to speak to her, but he had not the least idea what to say. He only knew that when he had seen her standing in the doorway scowling at him, a weight had dropped away from him.
He had carried it for so long, he had almost forgotten it was there.