Page 46 of One Night of Temptation
Cole shuddered. “Egads, man, you’re asking a great deal. Lucky for you, my wife tends to rise exceptionally early.” He winked, but Hugh already knew it was no trouble. Cole had always been a loyal friend. He’d show up if Hugh had said the wedding would be outside in the middle of the night in a snowstorm.
“I don’t suppose you care to share your plan?” Eastleigh asked.
Hugh shook his head. It was desperate, wild, and potentially ruinous to everyone involved. “It’s very tenuous.” Hugh sipped his brandy. “I will send word late tomorrow evening.”
“We will await your direction,” Eastleigh said.
Cole grinned. “Eagerly.”
Hugh was glad to have them on his side, not that he’d ever doubted their support. “In the meantime, please tell me how on earth I’m to behave at a dinner party.”
Chapter 12
Had Hugh changed his mind about coming?
Penelope stood beside her mother in the lower drawing room and tried not to keep staring at the door. With each moment that passed, she became more and more afraid he wasn’t coming. Her mother would be irritated, for his place was already set. But Hugh likely didn’t understand such things.
While Penelope would be incredibly disappointed—devastated was perhaps more accurate—if he didn’t come, it would almost be worth witnessing her mother’s frustration. Almost, but not quite. She would much rather he came, especially since she’d convinced her mother to set his place next to Penelope. Granted, she would have to suffer Findon on her other side, but it was a price she was willing to pay.
At last, Hugh entered. Dressed in an immaculate black coat with an ivory waistcoat and a blindingly white cravat, he presented the ideal gentleman. Penelope didn’t care what he wore, but couldn’t deny he was almost unbearably handsome. His auburn hair had been trimmed and was styled impeccably, waving back from his forehead and brushing the edge of his collar.
His gaze immediately found hers, and she was instantly awash in heat and a fierce longing. Her father intercepted Hugh, and they spoke for a few moments. Then the marquess introduced him to several people, including Lord Findon.
Penelope walked toward them, hating that Hugh would meet the man she was to marry. She knew Hugh wouldn’t like him either, and he’d like the fact that she was marrying him even less.
How did she know that?
Warmth spread through her—because Hugh had done nothing but protect her and keep her safe since he’d encountered her a week ago. He was a protector by nature, and he would instinctively want to rescue her from a marriage she didn’t want.
“Good evening, Mr. Tarleton,” she said as soon as her father finished introducing Hugh to Findon.
Hugh presented his leg toward Penelope, looking every bit the Society gentleman. “Good evening, Lady Penelope. You look well, and I’m glad to see it.”
“She does, doesn’t she?” Findon said, grinning so that his yellowed teeth were bared. It was especially jarring since Penelope’s mother said that showing one’s teeth when one smiled was incredibly gauche. And yet, the marchioness found no fault with anything Findon did. Not his grinning nor his crude innuendos nor his wandering hands, which Penelope had to work very hard to avoid.
Fortunately, her father stood between her and Findon at present.
Hugh cast Findon a rather chilly glance—or at least Penelope thought so. To anyone else, it might have been stoic or even arrogant. If he kept that up, he’d fit right into Society.
The butler came in to announce dinner, and Penelope was forced to take Findon’s arm as they made their way into the dining room. Thankfully, it was next door, so she didn’t have to touch him for long. He grazed his arm against the side of her breast as she withdrew her hand, and she suppressed a shudder.
Suddenly, Hugh was beside her, holding her chair. “Lady Penelope,” he murmured.
She looked to see Findon’s reaction, but he was speaking to her father, who was seated to the earl’s right. Relaxing slightly, she looked up at Hugh. “Thank you.”
When she was seated, his whispered words drifted over her as she sat down, “You look beautiful.”
For the first time in her life, shefeltbeautiful. People often told her she was pretty or lovely or beautiful, but it meant nothing. She was a doll her mother dressed up and put on display. Tonight, however, Penelope had actually cared about her gown and her hair and how Hugh would see her.
“You look very handsome,” she whispered in response, leaning slightly toward him. “You cut your hair.”
“Only a little,” he said softly. “I hope I don’t look too pretentious.”
She smiled and raised her hand to cover the expression lest her mother glare in her direction. “Not at all. Besides, pretentiousness is an admirable trait in Society. Which is probably why you hope you don’t look that way.”
“You know me so well. Or at least youthinkyou do. Perhaps Iampretentious.”
She nearly laughed. “Then you are in the right place.”
