Page 43 of One Night of Temptation
Penelope’s legs wobbled, and her heart raced as she walked away from Hugh. Seeing him today had given her a simultaneous burst of joy and despair. Right now, she wanted to cling to the joy.
She’d never thought to see him again—her mother had declared they would no longer visit his parish, saying it was far too dangerous. Shewouldsee him again, however. Tomorrow at her engagement dinner.
The despair began to eclipse the joy.
It was no longer just that she was desperate not to marry Findon. She wanted Hugh.
He was the kindest, most wonderful person she’d ever met. It was as if he’d been placed in her life to show her what she’d been missing, what she needed. Everything else about her scheme had failed—she was still marrying Findon. If not for meeting Hugh, it had been absolutely pointless.
Which meant there had to be a reason they’d met. Fate wouldn’t be so cruel to tempt her with happiness only to snatch it away?
“I do hope he knows how to dress,” Mother said as they continued along the path. “Ah well, I suppose it doesn’t matter. Perhaps I shouldn’t have invited him, but it seemed the charitable thing to do, don’t you think?”
“If you think so, yes,” Penelope murmured. When her mother asked for an opinion, she never really wanted to hear one that differed from hers.
“Yes, it was,” the marchioness said definitively. “It’s the least we can do to express our gratitude.”
Penelope wasn’t sure she could survive seeing Findon and Hugh side by side. One represented the life she’d been raised to lead, a life she didn’t want. The other was a dream she’d never known she had, a fairy tale that would never come true.
How she wished she could walk home, but she’d never be allowed, not even with the footman. Since returning home, she wasn’t ever left alone, except to sleep. If she went to the garden, someone accompanied her. When she was out shopping or here at the park, she was with her mother and two large footmen. Thankfully, they had stayed with the barouche while Penelope and the marchioness went for a promenade.
Lady Goodrick and Mrs. Riddings approached them. Penelope braced herself to endure a tedious conversation between them and her mother about shoes or hats or which lady had worn the worst ball gown last week.
As Penelope worked to ignore their chatter, Lady Viola Barrett and Lady Felicity Langford came toward her. Both were sisters to dukes and had recently married untitled gentlemen. Eager for a welcome distraction, Penelope took a few steps away from her mother.
“May I offer my congratulations on your betrothal?” Lady Felicity smiled, appearing genuinely happy for Penelope.
It was more than she could bear. “You may, but I don’t particularly want them. My enthusiasm for the marriage is nonexistent.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she felt her eyes widen, and she bit the inside of her cheek. At least she’d remembered to speak softly so her mother wouldn’t overhear, not that she’d pay attention to anything but the gossip she was exchanging with her friends.
Lady Felicity exchanged a look with Lady Viola, and when she returned her gaze to Penelope, there wasn’t a shred of pity, for which Penelope was extremely grateful. Instead, she looked at Penelope with something akin to encouragement.
“Well,” Lady Viola said, “if you’d like advice on how to leave your betrothed at the altar, I’d be happy to help.”
Penelope suddenly recalled that Lady Viola had abandoned her first betrothed the morning they were to be wed some five years ago. She looked at the other woman in awe. “How did you manage it?” she whispered.
“I simply said, ‘No, thank you.’”
Lady Felicity laughed. “It wasnotthat simple.”
“No, I suppose it wasn’t,” Lady Viola said, exhaling. “I realized I wasn’t going to be happy with Ledbury, so I called for my brother and had him deliver a note. I apologized profusely for the upset it would cause him—I truly felt bad about that—but explained that the union would never work. He told my brother he understood even if he was vastly disappointed of course.”
“Of course,” Lady Felicity murmured.
“And that was it?” Penelope asked. It actually was rather simple. If only such a thing would work for Penelope. She feared if she tried something like that, her parents would cast her out, and then what would she do?
The seed of an idea took root in Penelope’s mind. Was there a chance she could have a future with Hugh? Would he even want that?
“Yes, that was it.” Lady Viola made a slight wince, her brow briefly furrowing. “It had a lasting effect, however. I was a social pariah, not that I minded. It is not a path for everyone.”
Penelope felt certain it also helped that Lady Viola’s grandmother was the fiercely respected—and sometimes feared—Dowager Duchess of Eastleigh.
“Penelope!” The marchioness called her name, and Penelope looked to see her waiting impatiently. Lady Goodrick and Mrs. Riddings had moved on.
“I must go,” Penelope said. “It was nice talking with you.”
Lady Viola reached out and touched Penelope’s forearm. “I meant what I said—I am here to help if you should ever need it. You are not alone.”
“You can count on me too,” Lady Felicity said with a warm smile. “You have friends now.”
