She thought his excessive politeness amusing, yet she sensed his respect for her had grown since her betrothal to Lord Harford. How lowering to realize your esteem was so dependent upon another, in spite of wealth.
Leaving the carriage and horses in the care of his tiger, they set out along a pretty path. Stately oaks and elms, tall beech trees, new plantings being nurtured for the future, grew about them. Thick green grass had yet to feel the heat of summer. Sparrows chirped in the shrubbery and around the base of an elm.
“So, suppose you tell Uncle Stephen all about it, bin?” he said with a hint of joviality.
“Uncle Stephen, indeed. Are all men intent upon making me feel like a little child?” She knew she sounded petulant, but she felt strongly ill-used at the moment.
His gaze was warm as he shook his head. “Hardly that, Penny, my dear, to use Harford’s pet name for you. Rather, I believe that you are a woman that men instinctively feel protective toward.”
Why hadn’t Lord Harford said something like that to her rather than give her such a wigging?
“I see. How kind of you to think that way.”
“So?” He slowed their steps until they stopped. While he studied her face, Penelope searched for the right words to use.
“I must return to Fountains immediately. I want to keep it a secret from Jonathan. He mustn’t know where I am, at least for several days.” She found it extremely difficult to say this much, for she sensed Lord Stephen would press for more answers.
“Why?” What could possibly have happened that you could not tell your future husband?”
Inspiration struck. “It is a wedding surprise. I am having something built for him at Fountains, and I wish to see how it goes. I have lent my coach to Miss Nilsson and Henri so they might travel to Brighton. They are to set up a very superior inn there and need to inspect some property. I cannot take a stage and don’t know a thing about arranging for a post chaise. Could you see it in your heart to help me? I shall be happy to pay for everything, you know.”
She fished about in her reticule and pulled out a staggering sum in banknotes, flourishing them before Lord Stephen.
He eyed the notes, then motioned her to put them away. “What a shocking girl you are, to be carrying such an amount about with you. I shall make the needed arrangements for you.
Narrowing her gaze at him, she said, “I suspect your silly pride will be offended if I insist on handing you this money, but I shall anyway. I always pay my way, you see.”
The warmth had left his eyes as they turned to go back to his carriage. “Have you never been taught that one must learn to accept a gift graciously? After all, if it is more blessed to give than to receive, it stands to reason that a number of us must be the recipients of all that giving.”
Embarrassed, Penelope bent her head, looking with sightless eyes at the path they trod. “I have found myself in the other position most often. When one is unaccustomed to receiving gifts, it is difficult to learn the ability to graciously accept. Deciding to explain, she added, “My parents did come a few times at Christmas to bring me presents. I was very little then. Later they were too busy with parties and such. Then they were killed. Solicitors and guardians do not send gifts, you know.”
“Miss Nilsson? Your cousins and aunt?”
“My employees are very loyal, for which they are well paid. As to my aunt and relatives, I fancy they wished to forget I existed until there was a danger my fortune might slip out of the Winthrop hands.”
He shook his head. “Dashed rotten business, if you ask me. I’ll help you.”
On the ride back to Upper Brook Street, he explained what would be necessary and admitted to the costs. She outlined what she wished arranged in greater detail. They were passing Everton House when Penelope espied a clearly overset Aunt Winthrop.
“Whatever can be the matter? It is quite unlike my aunt to be dithering about in front of the house in that manner.”
Lord Stephen brought the carriage to a halt and Penelope leaned over to inquire, “Is there some trouble, Aunt?”
“Trouble?” she snapped back. “I should say so. Ernest has gone. Disappeared. I mean to find him at once, and he has taken our carriage!”
“Perhaps he merely went for a ride?”
“His valet is gone as well, and the wardrobe is near empty of clothes. He has decamped! I am undone. I shall have a spasm.” She fanned herself with a handkerchief of black-bordered linen.
Anyone less likely to collapse with a case of nerves, Penelope couldn’t imagine. Recalling the words of caution from Lord Harford, Penelope was reluctant to offer her assistance. Yet she felt sorry for the old woman, standing there with her elaborate lace cap askew and wringing her hands with apparently sincere worry.
Signaling Lord Stephen that she wished to get down, she added, “Please wait for me if you can. I do not trust my aunt. It is possible this is a trap set for me.”
Looking astounded at this, Lord Stephen nodded, assisting Penelope from the phaeton with courtesy, then remaining at her side while she approached her aunt.
“You ought to return to the house, Aunt Winthrop. It is unseemly that you remain out here,” gently prompted Penelope.
“What? Oh, of course. Well, then, I shall find out the truth of the matter somehow.” She was about to march up the few steps to the house when a footman neared.
The trio paused while he approached Lady Winthrop with a missive in hand.
Curtly dismissing the man, she broke open the seal and rudely began to read. Penelope was about to retrace her footsteps to the
