Suddenly aware that she had been staring, Penelope bent her head, clearing her throat before saying, “I believe Charis completely captured the affair. She was by far the prettiest girl to make her curtsy.”
Lady Harford watched the pair who had been regarding each other as gingerly as two strange cats. “I believe our family honor has been quite nicely upheld by you girls. All we must needs do now is prepare for your ball.”
Considering all she had seen in the entry and up the stairs, Penelope wondered aloud, “What is left to do, ma’am?”
“Actually, very little. By tomorrow evening I believe we shall be in readiness. You shan’t fail me, dear boy?”
Jonathan had been surreptitiously examining the dainty curve of Penny’s tiny waist, the thrust of her full bosom above the broad sweep of her hooped skirt, and just barely caught his mother’s words. “Of course, dear mother,” he said with the polished suavity of a courtier. He took another glance at Penny, wondering how a gown whose design had seemed so unassuming could look so downright . . . seductive on her. “I shall make it a point to arrive a shade early if you like.” He darted a look at Penny again, then left.
Penelope had discovered that when most gentlemen accepted invitations, they fully intended arriving quite late. It was considered acceptable by Society. Penelope thought it abominable manners. She bestowed a wry smile on his lordship, wondering to which group he belonged.
* * * *
The following morning, Penelope was awakened rather late by Miss Nilsson. The maid followed her in with a tray of hot chocolate and toasted buns with shaved ham on them.
Both ladies had discovered that if they ate in their rooms, they might sneak what they wished up on the trays.
A gorgeous bouquet of flowers nestled in Nilsson ‘ s arms. She held out a card, saying in an amused voice, “I believe that if you remove the center of this nosegay, it becomes a posy for you to carry this evening.”
The bold handwriting suited Lord Harford, Penelope decided as she perused his card. “How lovely. He really ought not have been so extravagant if he is hard pressed for funds. Nilsson, I must see to it that he gets that money. He refuses to reveal his needs to me. Discover if you can the name of his man of business. I would deal with him rather than through my banker. One must guard the tender susceptibilities of gentlemen,” she concluded, making a face at her companion.
“Are you quite certain he will not be offended, my dear?” Miss Nilsson placed the bouquet in a vase, tossing a cautious look at her employer.
“Nonsense,” the practical Penelope declared. “Now”—she attacked the pile of toasted buns with a healthy hunger— “we must organize our day. I do hope that Henri has settled in at Lord Harford’s place.”
“Indeed,” Miss Nilsson murmured, her voice and manner now greatly subdued.
Taking note of her companion’s wan face and sad droop, Penelope resolved to make her a nice tonic, something to drive away all thoughts of melancholy. However, it would have to wait until tomorrow, for Penelope very much doubted if she would have a spare moment today. She had promised to take her things to the Harford house as soon as she was dressed this morning, then assist with last-minute details.
Lady Charis took note of the magnificent floral offering from her brother when Penelope brought it along, but only commented that he was doing his usual best. It deflated Penelope’s pride a touch, but she decided she was being a peagoose to place undue importance on mere flowers.
When the girls were dressed for the ball in their pretty white muslins—Charis with rose accents, Penelope with blue and silver—they joined Lady Harford in the drawing room.
Charis was delighted to find Lord Harford had managed to arrive before them, and exclaimed her pleasure.
Jonathan noted that the demure neckline he had approved for Penelope’s coming-out gown now dipped somewhat lower, displaying a vast expanse of skin once again. He decided his best course was to pretend not to notice her naughty conduct. He never seemed to make any headway with a rebuke anyway.
Over to one side of the room, Eva Nilsson sat in the shadows, her soft gray sarcenet gown seeming to make her disappear in the gentle candlelight.
Dinner proved to be a challenge. Lady Harford had invited a number of young gentlemen, Lord Stephen Collison included, as well as girls making their bows to society. Penelope found herself seated between Lord Stephen and Lord Harford, something she thought to be a dilemma, and had said so to Lady Harford when viewing the place cards.
“Dear girl,” her ladyship replied, “I do never trust those other boys. Lord Stephen is a darling, and of course my son will do all that is proper. You are a great heiress, and as such must be guarded from fortune hunters.”
Penelope wondered a little at the secretive smile her ladyship possessed, but had not complained any more. She had no wish to be saddled with a man who was all to pieces and on the prowl for an heiress. While she did not demand a husband of equal fortune, she expected to marry a man of rank who had a respectable background, as was her due.
Lord Harford partnered his sister while Lord Stephen took Penelope’s hand to walk her out for the first dance of the ball, once all the guests had been welcomed.
If her heart did not flutter, nor that peculiar heat creep over her when coming close to Lord Stephen, Penelope accounted it to the ire she so frequently felt
