The gentleman at the bank looked askance at Penny when she requested another transfer of funds to Lord Harford’s man of business. It was amazing how the hint that she was to be the next countess cleared the way for what she wished. It worked like magic.
Once her conscience felt at ease, she took delight in assisting Letty to select a gown for the ball. Under the guise of choosing something for herself, she persuaded her eccentric cousin to join her in a shopping expedition. Letty peered over her gold spectacles with suspicion, but in the end came along.
At the mantua-maker’s, Letty plumped herself on a chair, reluctant to so much as look at a fashion plate. It took Madame Clotilde’s skill and Penny’s blandishments to convince her it was absolutely necessary.
“Do you want your mother to learn you looked like a provincial at your betrothal ball?” Penny chided at last.
Letty jumped up and turned to the mantua-maker. “Madame Clotilde, if you can but do something with this pudgy self, you will have my eternal gratitude.”
It was accomplished with greater speed than Penny had dared hope. A simple gown of delicate peach muslin trimmed discreetly in gold ribbon was chosen in short order.
Her own gown, an affair in twilight-lavender sarcenet with silver ribbons trailing down the back, was the most elaborate she had ordered yet. It was scandalously expensive for a sham betrothal, yet she deemed it important to make everything seem real. The thought of appearing on Jonathan’s arm wearing the shimmery, floating gown pleased, especially when she considered the low neckline that nicely revealed her rounded bosom.
The impossible Miss Dunston would be present. Who knew what might be going on in the girl’s strange mind? Jonathan seemed to believe it important she be convinced the betrothal was genuine. Penny wondered if those love potions might actually be effective.
* * * *
“Do I pass your inspection, dear brother?” Lady Charis spun around before Jonathan to display her gown of Florence satin in a pale willow green. Ash-brown curls were dressed high on her head in clusters threaded with silver ribbon.
“David will be enchanted.” Jonathan knew what would please her and, in truth, she looked lovely.
“Did Madame Lieven accept?” he inquired of his mother in an undertone, not having had private conversation with her for several days, what with all the dashing about London required of him. He felt great satisfaction that the special license now rested in his desk drawer.
“Actually, she called on me. I was able to drop a number of hints, along with a subtle request she influence the marriage of the Earl of Everton in the right direction. Lady Winthrop is such a fool that the persuasions of a lady of such distinction will doubtless convince her.” Lady Harford gave her son a bemused look. “You really believe this will work?”
“It had better. I am tired of her importunings, not to mention the threat of a love potion in my glass.” He smoothed the worry from his face, then turned to charm the guests that entered the house. When word had filtered through the ton that a terribly exclusive party was being held at Harford House, with only the cream invited, not one excuse was received.
Penny surveyed the elegant throng of exquisitely gowned ladies and superbly groomed gentlemen with curious eyes. Where was the elusive Miss Dunston?
“Before I point out our quarry for the evening, I should like a word with you, my pet,” Jonathan growled softly into Penny’s wary ear.
“Whatever are you upset about, sir?” she inquired with what she hoped was an elegant lift of her brows. He had caught her off-guard. She hoped the assemblage of guests would keep whatever bothered him to a minimum of fuss. There were people everywhere, strolling up the stairs, meandering through the various rooms. They were in twos and fours, gossiping or merely chatting, but around.
“Do not tilt your nose, my sweet,” he continued as he skillfully ushered her to a small anteroom off the drawing room, where the glittering elite of society gathered. A branch of candles had been lit; Jonathan hastily lit another, then turned to face her. “Now I can see your expression. Why? Why did you do it? Did you wish to embarrass me?”
“Do not tell me you are annoyed because I transferred a paltry few pounds over to you? What utter rubbish. I have told you before that I insist upon paying my way. I have discovered that quite often wealthy people are only too happy to have others pay their bills. I do not accept that. You shared the cost of the come-out ball. There is no reason on earth that I not help now. Tell me, were my father alive and he insisted upon paying a portion of the expenses, would you deny him?”
At the reluctant shake of Jonathan’s well-bred head, she went on, becoming more amused than annoyed. “So what is the problem? Men!” she exclaimed, turning to walk to the door. Before she could open it, she found a restraining hand on her arm. She paused, giving him an expectant look.
He first bent his head, then met her eyes with a candid gaze. “Do not repeat it. I will take care of all bills. I am not at point-non-plus yet.” He glanced at the door, then back. “And promise me that you will be careful around Miss Dunston. Who knows what lurks in her mind?”
“I had no intention of accepting a glass of wine from her hands, you may be sure. I have no need of a love potion.” Aware that they had defied propriety for too long, she sighed, then slipped from the room, closing the door on the grim man behind her.
Lady Harford motioned
