Page 47 of One Night of Temptation
“What are you muttering about over there?” Findon asked, brushing his hand against Penelope’s thigh.
She gritted her teeth and scooted to the other edge of her chair in the hope that he wouldn’t be able to reach her. Or that he wouldn’t even try because his movements would be noticeable.
“Just discussing the weather,” she said pleasantly.
He returned his attention to her father, and she took the opportunity to move her chair ever so slightly toward Hugh. There, that would help at least.
As the soup was served, Hugh leaned slightly toward her. His voice was less than a whisper. “Will you meet me in the garden later?”
Penelope’s pulse quickened as a thrill shot through her. She picked up her spoon to ground her suddenly rattled nerves. “I’ll try.” It would be all but impossible for her to meet him alone. She would try, however.
The course was nearly over before he whispered toward her again. “It’s vitally important.”
Even if it wasn’t, she was going to do everything she could to be there. She gave a slight nod in response because her mother was looking up the table, narrowing her eyes briefly at Penelope.
While the next course was laid, Lord Findon leaned around Penelope and looked from her to Hugh. “I wonder if Mr. Tarleton should marry us. It’s not his parish, of course, but surely there could be an arrangement.” He smirked at them, seeming pleased with his horrifying suggestion.
“I wouldn’t presume to perform a marriage in someone else’s parish,” Hugh said, though he had when he’d married Eastleigh and his wife.
Findon waved his fork. “Ah well, it must still be flattering to be asked.”
Penelope nearly groaned. How was she ever going to suffer the man? Hopefully, she wouldn’t have to.
She’d spent the last few days trying to conjure a new idea to evade the marriage. Unfortunately, she was low on funds, so she couldn’t support herself if she fled. Furthermore, where could she go? If she went back to St. Giles, they’d likely find her, and she couldn’t ask Hugh to hide her.
Her attempts to come up with a plan invariably ended in her fantasizing about marrying Hugh. She’d be safe and happy.
Her gaze strayed toward him, and she drank in his profile. How she longed to touch him, to kiss him, to hold him tight and never let him go.
She spent the rest of the meal casting surreptitious glances in Hugh’s direction in between listening to Findon prattle on about his eagerness to marry her. It was all she could do to keep her food down.
And then dinner was over, and she could barely contain her excitement at meeting Hugh in the garden. She prayed she’d be able to do it. She’d probably have to sneak out.
Hugh met her stare before she left the dining room with the ladies. They went upstairs to the larger upper drawing room while the men remained at the table to drink their port.
Penelope barely paid any attention to the conversation around her and answered questions directed at her with a minimum of words. Her gaze was plastered to the doorway in anticipation of the men’s arrival. No, not the men, just Hugh.
“Where is my bride?” Findon asked as he entered the drawing room. Upon seeing Penelope, he swayed slightly, indicating he’d overimbibed as he usually did. She tensed and then gasped as he tripped and nearly fell to the floor.
Hugh saved him, however, grasping Findon’s elbow and hauling him upright. Findon straightened and wobbled on his feet. Hugh kept hold of him until Findon gave him a supercilious stare. “I’m quite well, thank you.”
As usual, Hugh was helping others, and for once, Penelope wished he’d just stood back and done nothing. Given the disgusted expression that flashed briefly across Hugh’s face, she wondered if he was wishing the same thing.
Penelope stood from the settee and made her way to the corner in the hope that she could soon slip out of the drawing room unnoticed. It was not to be, however, as Findon, accompanied by her father, found her.
“Lord Findon would like to take you for a walk in the garden, and I’ve given my permission.” Father bestowed an imperious half smile on them and gestured to the doors leading out to the terrace.
Penelope wanted to dig her feet into the floor. Instead, she looked wildly about the room. She caught sight of the tail of a black coat disappearing through the doorway. It had been Hugh, for he was no longer in the drawing room.
He’d gone.
Despair welled up inside her. No doubt he’d seen her with Findon and the way her father had gestured toward the door. She couldn’t blame him for leaving. Why on earth should he stay? She couldn’t very well meet him in the garden if she was there with her betrothed.
But how she longed to know what was “vitally important”!
Maybe Hugh had gone to the garden anyway? No, that didn’t make sense, for he could have easily exited onto the back terrace and walked down the exterior stairs. Unless his plan involved some sort of subterfuge…
Her pulse quickened even as her mind told her she was hoping for a miracle.
