Lady Harford stared at her niece. “You have a rare ability, child, to speak most plainly with no roundaboutation. How fortunate for some good man.” Turning to Lord Harford, she implored, “My dear, whatever can you do to quell the pretensions of that dreadful girl?”
“I wish I knew how many people she has told of this bogus engagement. There has been no notice in the Times. Yet,” he added gloomily.
Penelope began to see how she might repay Lord Harford for his assistance. “Since you have not sought her hand from her parents, there could scarcely be any notice posted in the paper. I believe they require corroboration for this sort of notice, do they not? Unless she is extremely devious, of course. We must have a plan to counter her attempt.” Penelope gazed up at Lord Harford, her resolution clear on her face. “We shall fix her plot, so she’ll not try this again.”
Lady Harford stared at her niece, then clapped her hands. “If I did not say this before, my dear, welcome to the family.
Penelope felt a rare blush creeping into her cheeks at this bit of warmth. “Thank you, my lady.”
Lady Charis plumped herself on a stool, careful to place the hoop about her so that she looked quite like an exotic mushroom. “Where do we go this evening?”
“The Bradford come-out. Will that Dunston girl be there, do you think?” Lady Harford looked at her daughter, then to her son.
“I suspect she will attend, if for no other reason than to try to entrap Jonathan.” Lady Charis turned to her brother, adding, “You had best stay clear of her this evening.”
“On the contrary,” Penelope countered. “I believe he ought to ask her to dance, then manage to walk her away from that area so that we can perpetrate our own little hoax upon her.”
‘And that is?” an intrigued Lord Harford inquired.
She considered the matter a moment, then said, “Perhaps you could pretend to be enamored of someone else?”
“Who?”
“I see,” she replied, understanding quite well that he would not want to seek involvement with anyone else that would demand the same solution the Dunston girl sought.
“Perhaps,” Lady Harford said in a slow drawl, “we might impose upon Penelope to pretend an interest in Jonathan. I feel certain you could think of some manner in which to make this sudden attachment convincing to that conniving little schemer, dear boy.” She smiled at her beloved son, trusting he would catch her intent very well.
“I should be pleased to help with The Plan,” Penelope said, then gasped. “Oh, Aunt, I nearly forgot to tell you, Aunt Winthrop and Cousin Ernest have come to Town. I told her Letty did not have room for them and they shall have to open Everton House. That will require some doing on her part, so we have a brief reprieve. But I do need a husband, and speedily now. And no, I should not think of coercing your son to marry me. Poor lamb, he has no taste for marriage without love, and anyone could see at a glance we are more likely to squabble. I argue with him, you see. ‘Tis a pity, for he is handsome and probably would live the sort of life I require in a husband.”
Utterly fascinated, Lady Harford said, “Indeed?”
“He believes me too prosaic, I suspect, for if you must know, I do not believe in love. An arranged marriage will suit me quite well, as long as your son approves the gentleman as proper and Cousin Ernest is far removed from the scene. Once 1 am wedded, I hope to see my husband depart immediately. Somehow, I doubt your son would be so cooperative there.” She slanted a glance at her cousin to see how he accepted this bit of wisdom.
Lady Harford could not contain her amusement, and burst into a peal of silvery laughter, followed by giggles from Lady Charis. Lord Harford merely leaned against the mantelpiece and looked amused, or chagrined. Penelope couldn’t decide which.
The tea tray was brought in and they drew chairs together so that plotting might be that much easier.
Penelope took a nibble of a dainty ratafia biscuit, then reflected aloud, mostly to Miss Nilsson, “This is lovely. I had no idea that family life could be like this, a sort of friendly unity.”
Lady Harford caught an arrested expression on her son’s face and took a long sip of tea.
* * * *
Some hours later, when the party set out for the Bradford girl’s come-out ball, all were primed and ready for nearly anything.
Penelope had rebelled, taking a scissors to snip at the neckline of her chosen gown, altering it into something more like those she had observed at other parties. What Lord Harford would say once he saw it, she didn’t know, but she felt that it would be more in aid of catching a husband than that demure high neck he had selected for her. Really.
When she handed her velvet cloak to the maid, she turned to face Lord Harford, a fluttering in her stomach refusing to be quelled, no matter how she told herself he would never say a word.
She literally felt his gaze touching her, exploring every inch of creamy white skin revealed by the rather conventional dip in the front of her bodice. His eyes stopped when he reached that low point, and he took a deep breath, as though to say something.
“Remember what I said about needing to find myself a husband?” She placed a pleading hand on his arm.
