Jonathan felt a rush of displeasure, although why he wasn’t overjoyed that this mere chit of a girl wasn’t trying to snare him into being parsoned, he didn’t know. Albeit she was a taking thing, a right luscious armful. He felt pique at being so readily dismissed. “I need time to consider the prospects. One doesn’t pull a proper husband from a hat such as a conjurer at a country fair might do.” He finished his sherry, then excused himself, depositing the cat on the chair.
While he sauntered off to his club, he wondered whom he would place on the short list as a candidate for Penny’s hand. For the oddest reason, not one man who came to mind seemed to be right for the position of the absent husband. With all her charms, she deserved someone better than she seemed willing to accept.
Chapter 5
The presentation to Lady Harford ranked as difficult as attending court in Penelope’s mind. Nervous as a small cat under the eye of a fierce terrier, Penelope put on one of her new demure “twilight-hued” dresses—one that had a neckline up to her chin—a Gypsy hat of exceptionally proper design, along with violet Limerick gloves, then went down to wait for her third cousin, once removed.
Letty ventured forth from her hideaway to inspect Penelope. “Hm, I detect the hand of a master of subtlety here,” she said. “While you look very lovely, dear cousin, you are not in the way of outshining Harford’s sister with a conspicuous gown. Very astute. I compliment you on your intuition.”
Far too honest to accept this encomium when she felt it unearned, Penelope smiled and shook her head. “You must save your praise for Lord Harford. He is the one who influenced my choice, I fear.”
“Well, that is what you wished. I must say, he did well. Now, were I inclined to make a splash, I might avail myself of his taste, for I can see he has a master touch.’
“Why do I doubt he acquired it all in aiding his sisters?”
“My dear country cousin! You forget, he is a man of the town. A lady learns to ignore barques of frailty. Besides, I believe your intention is to marry a man who has other interests. I suggest that it takes such a one to know who the others are.”
Aware of a stab of disappointment, but unable to think of why, Penelope paced about the morning room, toying with the cords of her unpretentious reticule. “I can understand I ought to be demure when meeting his mother, but do you know that nearly all of my gowns are the sort an over-protective brother would choose for his little sister? I fail to see how these will aid in attracting a gentleman to my side. Recollect that I wish someone dashing, a man who will accept my offer, then hie himself off to distant parts. ‘Tis most peculiar, I tell you.”
Letty frowned in equal puzzlement, then turned as Mrs. Flint entered the room with Lord Harford trailing right behind her.
The housekeeper disappeared, but Letty lingered on, more out of curiosity than for propriety’s sake.
Jonathan examined Penelope with his quizzing glass in hand, missing not a fold of fabric, nor the careful tie of her hat ribbons. When he had walked completely around her, turning her into a seething mass of conflicting emotions, he nodded. “You’ll do.”
“I’ll do?” With deceptive calm Penelope continued, “After I’ve spent simply ages to prepare for this tête-à-tête you have arranged, you can merely say that I will do?” She stamped a neatly slippered foot. “I shall never understand men! How fortunate that I have decided to relegate my husband to a distant spot, if this is what one must contend with. Come, we might as well leave and get this call over with at once.”
Clearing his throat, his countenance carefully controlled, Harford strolled from the house with Penelope on his arm, while a confused Letty watched from a window.
During the ride over to Harford House on Mount Street, Harford ventured to say to his obviously miffed cousin, “I cannot fathom why you insist upon a marriage of convenience. It is not the thing to turn your back on love, you know.”
She gave him a frosty look. “I am under the impression that a great number of ton marriages are thus arranged. Why ought mine be any different, pray tell?”
“That simply is not so. While it might have been true in the past, most young couples today marry because they have formed an attachment. I suspect your sheltered existence has given you a narrow view of life.”
“Rubbish.”
“But you do not rule love out?” He glanced down at her face, well-concealing his interest.
“For you, it may be plausible. For me, no. By the bye, have you selected a young lady to serve as your wife?” Penelope slanted a decidedly impish glance at him.
“What a peculiar way of phrasing it.” He raised one handsome brow, while directing a reproving look at her. “And no, I have not chosen the light of my life, the joy of my heart. Yet. And you have changed the subject when I was not tired of it.”
“Well, I am.” She gave him an exasperated glare. “If only you were not so. . .“ She dropped the subject as his reproving look turned into an awesome frown. Apparently, for some quite absurd reason, he did not like to hear how ineligible he was as husband material. She would have thought he’d have been glad, seeing as how he intended to take his time finding a mate. He’d likely search
