Page 37 of One Night of Temptation
“You know the neighborhood well, I expect,” her father said. “Still, we will try to find them lest they think to kidnap someone else.”
“Is she back?” the marchioness glided into the study, her dark hair pulled into a severe knot at her nape. Her face was pale, and there were purple crescents beneath her eyes too. Her gaze lit when she saw Penelope. “You’re here!” She rushed forward and folded Penelope in a tight hug.
Penelope’s gaze connected with Hugh’s over her mother’s shoulder. He seemed to be silently questioning whether she was all right. She widened her eyes at him, trying to communicate that this was strange.
She lifted her arms and awkwardly patted her mother’s back, but thankfully, the hug was brief. Penelope didn’t remember the last time she’d been hugged—Hugh notwithstanding—nor did she remember the last time either of her parents had looked at her with anything but impatience, irritation, or simple ambivalence. Perhaps she should have arranged to disappear long before now.
Except she hadn’t been looking for their affection. She’d been searching for freedom from their tyranny, and now it was finally—hopefully—within her grasp.
Mother beamed at her. “I’m so glad you’re safe. How did you get here?” She glanced toward the marquess and then at Hugh, her expression becoming confused.
“I was able to escape my captors this morning,” Penelope said. “I made my way to the church, where Mr. Tarleton provided assistance. You remember Mr. Tarleton.”
“Yes, of course.” Mother turned to Hugh, her lips pressed together and her features drawn as if she might cry. “I can’t thank you enough for giving aid to my daughter. You brought her home, then?”
Hugh nodded. “It was my honor to assist her, my lady.” He bowed.
Mother touched his arm briefly and smiled up at him. “You are truly a servant of God delivered to us.” She said this as if his entire function was to provide service to their family.
Penelope quashed the urge to roll her eyes.
“He is indeed,” her father agreed. “And I’m sure we can count on him to provide any information that will help us catch these kidnapping brigands.”
“As I said, I doubt you’ll find them—or hear from them again,” Hugh said smoothly. “I will keep an ear out. I should take my leave.” He turned toward Penelope. “It’s been my pleasure to assist you. My church is always open to you.” He gave her a deep bow, and when he straightened, something glimmered in his eyes. Something that made her insides do more than sway—they crumpled into a beautiful mess.
He turned toward her parents and bowed again. “Good day.”
And then he was gone. The air in the room seemed to stagnate with his absence, and Penelope began to wilt. It was as if his energy had been keeping her upright.
“Oh dear, you look unwell,” Mother said, but her voice held more pity than concern, which made Penelope dig deep into herself. “Perhaps you should sit.”
“Perhaps she should tell us how she was stupid enough to be kidnapped in the first place.” And just like that, Father obliterated the mirage of concern he’d concocted.
She should have known it wasn’t real.
Mother frowned at him, surprising Penelope. “It’s not as if she asked to be stolen away.” Pen winced inwardly at the inadvertent accuracy of her mother’s words. “Have a little care.”
“I care insomuch as it affects her marriageability,” Father said. “If Findon had found out, he wouldn’t want her anymore.”
Ifhe’d found out?
Panic surged in Penelope’s chest. Maisie, the fraud, hadn’t sent a note to theTimes. Penelope barely managed to keep her voice steady as she asked, “No one knows what happened?”
Father looked at her in horror. “Thank God, no. We canceled last night’s dinner party and said you had taken ill. Findon is, of course, quite concerned and I imagine will want to call as soon as possible.”
“We must put him off until tomorrow,” Mother said, shocking Penelope.
Father scowled. “The banns should be read tomorrow.” He took a deep breath, puffing out his chest. “Fine. We’ll have them read next week. The betrothal’s as good as formalized even if the contract isn’t ready.” Father speared Penelope with a razor-sharp glare. “Were you used?”
Penelope reached farther into herself in search of the peace she’d learned to cling to when faced with her father’s wrath. But this was awful. Words clogged in her throat. She longed to say yes, she’d been used, and yes, she was ruined.
Her father flung a hand in the air and snorted with disgust. “It doesn’t matter. You and Findon will be wed in short order.”
Mother gave Penelope a weak smile. “Regardless of what happened, you’re the same as before.”
She absolutely was not. And it had nothing to do with being ruined or used or any other horrid description they wanted to fling at her. She’d found courage and independence andkindness.
She knew she’d regret not having experienced more with Hugh, and right now, she felt that loss most keenly.
