Page 5 of To Swoon and to Spar
She was notrestfulto look at, he thought; she was not like Diana’s friend Emily, who’d been widely considered the greatest beauty of her debut Season, golden and lovely and soothing to regard, like a particularly beautiful painting. Miss Spencer was too vivid, too strange, for that. Nonetheless, he found it impossible to look away from her for a long moment, and his first thought was to wonder why his uncle was so desperate to marry her off—this was not at all the mousy, plain creature Diana (and, truthfully, he) had envisioned. He couldn’t imagine it would be too difficult to find her a husband.
At that precise moment, however, Miss Spencer’s gaze landed on him, and her face broke into a fierce scowl.
Ah, Penvale thought. That might have something to do with it.
“Peter,” his uncle said jovially, instantly setting Penvale’s teeth on edge. “And little Diana, is it?”
Penvale darted a glance at his sister, privately thinking that his uncle must have remarkably little concern for his own safety to address her as such.
“You may call me Lady Willingham, Uncle,” she said in her frostiest tone; beside her, Jeremy looked to be thoroughly enjoying himself. “Would you care to make introductions?”
“May I present my ward, Miss Spencer?” Penvale’s uncle said, just barely on the polite side of mockery as he sketched an elegant bow. “Jane, may I introduce my nephew, Viscount Penvale, my niece, the Marchioness of Willingham, and her husband, the Marquess of Willingham?” He added this last bit rather as an afterthought, but Jeremy didn’t look remotely offended. He offered an entirely correct bow as he murmured Miss Spencer’s name, employing the charm that had made him so famously—or perhaps infamously—popular with the ladies before he’d married Diana. Penvale watched this grumpily, beforebelatedly recalling thathewas the prospective husband here and that it wouldn’t do to be upstaged by his own brother-in-law. He stepped forward, taking Miss Spencer’s proffered hand and bowing over it.
“Miss Spencer,” he said, straightening. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”
“Is it?” she asked skeptically, and Penvale blinked; her scowl had eased as quickly as it had appeared, but she was regarding him with what could only charitably be called extreme suspicion.
“Excuse me?” he ventured, releasing her hand and stepping back slightly so that he was not towering over her.
“I believe she said the pleasure is all hers,” his uncle said, too loudly, and Miss Spencer attempted something that approached a smile.
“Precisely,” she said, glancing down at her hands, which were now clasped tightly before her.
“Shall we sit?” Penvale suggested. Miss Spencer’s manners did not seem to be terribly polished, and he watched while she took a seat next to his uncle, her spine stiff as she looked around the room. He noticed that she avoided the eyes of everyone present, and he felt a deep sense of misgiving. She did not give the impression of a lady eager to be wed—and damn it, he wasn’t going to force her. The prospect of finally regaining Trethwick Abbey after all this time—of realizing the goal that had remained tantalizingly out of reach for his entire adult life—was more appealing than he could put into words, and the thought of giving it up now, when it finally seemed possible, made him feel a bit ill. But still, he could not force a woman to marry him against her will.
Hewouldnot.
Dimly, he realized that the others were conversing and that he’d completely neglected to follow the discussion. Fortunately for him, thetonwas so dull and predictable that it was not really necessary to pay attention to what was being said—he could have chimed in with oneof half a dozen or so rejoinders and would have stood a decent chance of saying exactly the right thing.
Or so he couldusuallyhave done. He’d neglected to account for Diana.
…so I, naturally, told Penvale that if he ever wanted to be able to show his face in our aunt and uncle’s home again, I would require a hefty payment. Fortunately, he received more pocket money than I did, and had enough to buy my silence.”
“But what was he planning todowith the pig?” Miss Spencer asked with a frown, helpfully enlightening Penvale on which precise childhood anecdote Diana had felt it necessary to share in the two minutes he’d allowed his attention to wander. He briefly wondered how their conversation had possibly arrived at this point so quickly, but decided it might be best not to know.
“I think he just wanted to get it settled in the barn more comfortably—it was about to have piglets, and he wished to observe the process. But he thought it easiest to pay me off, after I threatened to tell our aunt he intended to bring it into the house.”
A rather shocked silence fell—at least on the part of Miss Spencer and her guardian; Penvale and Jeremy were accustomed to Diana.
“Diana,” Jeremy said after a moment, “this sounds a bit like extortion.”
“Oh, it was,” she replied serenely.
“I used to wish for a sister,” Miss Spencer said, still frowning. “But if this is what they’re like, I think I might have been better off without one.”
This, naturally, caused Diana to frown as well, though Penvale did not really see what cause she had to be unhappy—the story she had just chosen to share hardly painted her in a flattering light.
“Miss Spencer, I feel I should assure you that my sister and I are actually quite close,” he said, feeling that the conversation was not presently going as well as he might have hoped.
“Despite her attempts to see you accused of crimes you did not commit?” Miss Spencer asked dubiously. “Is she threatening you now as well? Is that why you are eager to marry me and return to Cornwall—to escape her clutches?”
There was a rather loud cough from Jeremy that Penvale recognized as a hastily suppressed laugh.
“I promise you, I am not being extorted by my sister,” Penvale assured her.
“Anymore,” Miss Spencer added. “Is this normal sibling behavior?”
Penvale, perversely, began to feel a bit defensive on Diana’s behalf. “I don’t think she ever intended to get me in trouble—she was really after the money.”
