“How long have you been reflecting on your change of heart?”
“All the way from town. I didn’t expect to be noble. I was ready to beg you to elope with me. I brought a horse for you and everything, but the farther I traveled from London, the more I recognized you can’t ruin yourself over me.”
“That is the prettiest speech I’ve ever heard, but you’re being ridiculous.” She tossed off the covers and stepped to the floor. She was attired in just her nightgown, her hair down and brushed out, and at abandoning her warm bed, she shivered. “Am I correct that you have two horses tied out in the woods? Am I correct that you were planning to convince me to ride to Scotland this very night?”
“Well . . . yes.”
“Then give me a minute to get dressed. We’ll depart at once.”
“Penny, would you stop it? Please?”
“I’m about to roll the dice and take a chance on you.” She waltzed over and kissed him on the mouth. “Don’t you dare disappointment me in the end.”
“I’ve disappointed people my whole life, so you oughtn’t to risk it.”
“You’re turning over a new leaf with me.”
“What if this winds up being as horrid as I’ve painted it?”
“I’ll declare myself sick of you and come home to my wealthy, wonderful father who will welcome me back without saying, I told you so. But why are you so certain it will be dreadful? Here at the beginning, can’t you at least attempt to picture it as being grand? It’s what I intend to do.”
She whirled away and headed for her dressing room. He followed her, watching with elevated interest as she lit a candle and riffled through her clothes. What, exactly, should a girl wear when she was eloping? She supposed dark-colored and comfortable were best. She grabbed a black gown, sewn from a soft wool, and held it out to him.
“You’ll have to help me with the buttons,” she said.
He gaped at the garment, but didn’t reach for it. “Are we really proceeding? After what I confessed, you still want to?”
“For pity’s sake, Simon, don’t try to talk me out of it. I’m determined to have you for my very own.”
Finally, he grinned his devil’s grin. “I might actually enjoy this.”
“You’d better, and before we leave, I have to set one rule for you. You have to agree to it. The terms are nonnegotiable.”
“I’m awful at playing by the rules, so don’t pick one that would make it hard for me to comply.”
“It’s just this: While we’re together, you can’t have any other women. None! I’m afraid I have to put my foot down about it. If you decide in the future that you wish to stray, tell me in advance, and we’ll part without a fuss. But so long as you’re with me, you’re mine. I’m possessive that way, and I won’t share you.”
He bowed with a flourish. “Lady Penny, I am all yours. Let me help you with those buttons.”
Fish sat in the parlor of their London house. It was late in the afternoon, the street finally quiet, the crowd out front having called it a day and headed off to their suppers.
People had always been fascinated by Libby, but now, with her being Little Henrietta too, interest had spiked to an even higher level. Libby had been besieged by admirers and newspaper reporters, but also by various charlatans who were anxious to glom onto her with spurious intentions. They were claiming prior friendships or prior business dealings where she owed them money.
She couldn’t step outside without being hounded to death, but she’d been feeling claustrophobic, so she’d risked jumping into her carriage to run some errands.
As she’d departed, the most devoted of her retinue had chased after her, particularly the reporters who were cataloguing her every move for their readers. Once she’d left, the other stragglers had gradually left too. With Libby gone, what was the fun of dawdling?
Fish wondered how long the chaos would continue, and she hoped some other, more delicious scandal would erupt. She’d like focus to shift to some other unlucky woman.
A knock sounded on the front door, but she ignored it. She was relishing the chance to be alone with her thoughts. She’d been sucked into Charles’s life and bed, but their affair had ended abruptly, and with it over, she couldn’t figure out how to proceed.
For most of a decade, she’d trailed after Libby, designing her clothes, dressing her, and advising her when she needed shrewd counsel. It had been a stable, enjoyable existence, but she was chafing, bored, and dissatisfied with her choices.
Why hadn’t she made better ones? She could have wed several handsome rogues over the years. Why hadn’t she?
She could have had a home of her own and a few children to keep her company in her old age. Instead, she’d rejected all suitors, and she’d picked Libby and Simon to fill the role of the children she’d never birthed. What if they weren’t enough?
Her world—of sewing, theatres, and actors—suddenly seemed small and pointless. The perception wasn’t true, and she had to quit thinking so negatively, but her low mood was causing her to question everything.
She wished she could climb onto a ship and sail to a tropical island. She’d wallow in the sun and rearrange her attitude. She’d start over as a different, more intriguing female.
The knock sounded again, but no one rushed to answer it. They had three servants, but they were having tea in the kitchen at the rear of the house, so they wouldn’t have heard the summons. When their visitor—likely a reporter—knocked a third time, indicating he was very determined, her temper sparked.
She went over
