“Whom would he marry?”
“Well, I doubt it will be me,” Penelope said sadly.
“Now, now,” said the faithful companion, rather amused in spite of it all. “Never give up hope until the cause is totally lost.’’
“Is that another of your Swedish sayings? It sounds like, ‘Don’t give up the ship’ or something.” Penelope gathered up a rose shawl, then her cat, drawing comfort from its devotion to her, and slowly made her way to the drawing room. It would never do to receive Lady Winthrop in the morning room today.
“My dear girl, you look positively ghastly,” Aunt Winthrop boomed in a cheerful voice.
Penelope restrained a shudder with difficulty. “Good morning, Aunt. We must talk,” she said, deciding to cut the chitchat and reach the heart of the call, thus trim the call as short as possible.
“Ah, you have reconsidered and seen the light. You shall be a lovely bride, my girl. Ernest is a lucky man and you are most fortunate indeed to wed the Earl of Everton. It will be a white satin-and-lace wedding at St. George’s, Hanover Square. Ernest looks well in light blue.”
“I shall not marry Ernest!” Penelope noted her aunt’s anger at this bit of plain speaking and took courage.
“On the contrary. You will marry the dear boy. The entire family has agreed. We act as one and intend to convince your guardian that it is in your best interest, not to mention the estate’s, that you marry Ernest. Since Lanscomb never comes back to England, it will be a simple matter. He won’t bother over you, never has in the past. A simple matter to get him to sign a paper consigning you to my care. And I shall sign the papers for the wedding. The Court of Chancery will be on our side.”
"I shan’t do it.”
“Oh, but you shall. Perhaps if I take your cat as hostage, it might help.” She reached for Muffin, who had been sniffing at her skirts. The cat, not liking to be picked up, dashed away, hiding beneath the sofa where Penelope sat.
An aggravated, yet undefeated Lady Winthrop sailed out of the house, leaving a discouraged Penelope behind.
“She will not get you, Muffin,” muttered Penelope, “nor me either,” recalling something Jonathan had said to her last night. He had told her that if Aunt gave her any trouble to call upon him for help. Like it or not, she would do precisely that.
Rising from her chair, Penelope gathered her cat, wrapping her shawl about them both, and walked from the room, fuming as she contemplated life as Lady Everton. Jonathan must help her.
Chapter 12
“You quite see the necessity of my consulting you, do you not?” Penelope inquired of Jonathan, while perched uneasily on the edge of a leather chair in his library. She had rather hazy memories of this room, and she stifled with difficulty the most improper yearnings that crept up inside her. Surely he would be the gentleman, and kind enough not to remind her of her unladylike behavior.
Miss Nilsson had insisted upon coming along, to Penelope’s relief. She glanced at her companion for confirmation of the urgency of the matter at hand.
“Indeed, Lord Harford, I believe Lady Penelope has the right of it,” she said in her lilting accents.
“Explain to me precisely what she intends to do.” Jonathan turned from Miss Nilsson to Penny, wondering how she felt this morning. He suspected she would never say a word, no matter what. She was definitely a game ‘un, as his young brother would say.
“My aunt claims she will write to Lord Lanscomb in Austria, demanding that he release me into her care, and that to marry Ernest will be in my best interest, not to mention the estate’s. She intends to send papers along for him to sign. In truth, her reasoning is not far off, for he does not take the slightest interest in me, never has. Once she has those signed papers from him, she can go to the Court of Chancery with my guardian’s blessing, and doubtless they will agree with her, never mind that I protest. All they care about is my guardian’s permission.”
Lord Harford twiddled the pen he had been writing with before Penny came precipitately into the room, with Darling huffing at her side. He felt uneasy in her presence, yet she had given no indication that anything unusual had transpired last evening. Looking at her now, her shawl draped provocatively around her, that soft rose gown clinging so sweetly to her figure, it was not a simple matter to abandon the images and memories of last night. He cleared his throat before attempting to speak once again.
“I am not exact on this law, but I seem to recall that if a guardian is overseas or induced by wrong motives, the parties may apply to the Lord Chancellor, or several others.” He stared off into space, trying to remember what he knew of the Marriage Act. He was well aware that it was responsible for winging any number of lovers across the border into Scotland for a hasty, if legitimate, marriage.
Penelope clasped her hands and nodded, hope shining from her eyes. “I certainly could claim he is being offered the wrong motives. Besides, as my relative and head of the Harford family, do you not stand of some importance in this?” She felt reassured by his nod, although she suspected her father’s family had the greater authority in this case.
“It will take some time for your aunt to communicate with Lanscomb. That gives us an opportunity to approach the Lord Chancellor on your behalf before she can hear from him.” He gave her a casual glance, then added in his slow,
