Page 38 of One Night of Temptation
“We will have the postponed betrothal dinner next Wednesday,” Father declared.
Mother nodded. “I’ll send notes after I see Penelope into the bath.”
Penelope walked woodenly up the stairs. All that planning and expense, and for what? She was in precisely the same position as she’d been the day before. She’d be wed to Findon.
“It’s a miracle you were able to escape,” her mother blathered as they went into Penelope’s chamber. “You could have been ruined! Instead, you’ll be the Countess of Findon. Isn’t it wonderful?”
Wonderful? That was not a word Penelope would use in the vicinity of Lord Findon. With wandering hands, a lascivious eye, and breath that would topple an army, the earl was as far from wonderful as one could get. When she and her parents had paid a bereavement call after his son had died, Findon had maneuvered Penelope onto the settee next to him, where he’d taken every opportunity to lean close and brush against her. He’d even grasped her hand in the name of “grief” and held it to his chest—just before he’d grazed it down over his lap. The marquess and marchioness had been seemingly oblivious, and Penelope had known from that moment that they wouldn’t care what the earl did.
As a wave of helplessness crested over her, Penelope managed to keep herself upright. She couldn’t crumple in front of her mother. She wouldn’t understand, nor would she care. To her, Findon was an excellent catch—an earl with a sizeable income, even if his reputation was less than sterling. Others were aware of his depraved interests and, since the death of his son, desire for a young wife to provide him with a new heir. Most young women—and their families—stayed quite clear of him.
But not Penelope’s parents.
When it appeared that Penelope had failed to capture a husband, they’d put her directly into his path. He’d been panting after her all Season, so it hadn’t taken much.
Despair threatened to swallow her. She couldn’t even find joy in the brief happiness Hugh had given her.
Chapter 10
By Monday evening, Hugh was ready to drink himself into oblivion. Everywhere he went, he saw and heard Pen. Smelled her. Tasted her. If only he could touch her.
“Tarleton!”
The jovial chorus of his name as he entered the Wicked Duke usually made him smile. Tonight, it only intensified the ache in his chest. Because while he was surrounded with friends and companions, he’d never felt more alone.
“Sit with me,” Giles Langford called from a table in the corner of the main parlor.
Hugh joined him there a moment before his tankard appeared on the table. He looked toward the serving maid. “What is it today?”
“I brought you the porter. I know you like that best.”
And today, he liked it even better than best. He scooped the mug up. “Bring another, if you please.”
She nodded then left. Hugh took a long, satisfying drink before dropping into the chair beside Langford.
“Thirsty?” Langford asked.
Hugh grunted in response.
“Bad day?” Langford prodded.
Hugh glanced in his direction with a noncommittal shrug and tossed more porter down his throat.
“I can’t stay long. I’ve left my bride alone in our workshop. Who knows what mischief she’s up to. But tell me about your excitement! I heard you rescued a woman in St. Giles.”
Hugh froze in lifting the mug to his lips for a third drink. “How did you hear about that?”
Langford lifted a shoulder. “One of my apprentices was eager to tell the tale this morning.”
“Whatever you heard, I’m sure it’s been exaggerated.” Hugh had looked in theTimesfor any indication of the note Maisie was supposed to have sent, but there’d been nothing. He’d also run Joseph down and asked where Maisie had gone and whether she’d done anything she’d promised Pen. It seemed she hadn’t. She’d taken Pen’s money and disappeared.
Joseph, on the other hand,hadsent a ransom note to the marquess. Hugh had then interrogated him about what it had said and counseled the young man on how foolish that had been. Joseph admitted he’d forgotten to indicate to which inn the ransom money should be delivered—a fortunate error.
“Colehaven! Eastleigh!”
The maid deposited Hugh’s second tankard on the table as he glanced toward the door and watched the dukes enter. They greeted several people and accepted the tankards given to them by the serving maid before making their way to Hugh and Langford’s table.
“I was just toasting Tarleton,” Langford said. “He’s a hero for saving a young lady from kidnapping in St. Giles the other day.”
