Edward Macaulay had a broad, sensible, Scottish face, and broad, sensible, Scottish shoulders. His sandy hair was kept unfashionably short and brushed carefully back from his forehead, even though it was clear that had he allowed it to grow, it would have curled riotously in the best modern style without any prompting. He looked like a steady, dependable man, and Nev hated him on sight.
“How do you do?” Nev’s hand was more tanned and callused than it had ever been in his life; it looked like an indolent child’s clasped in Macaulay’s sturdy, ink-stained fingers.
“Very well, thank you.” Macaulay sounded downright hostile. “Yourself?” He looked Nev up and down with a scrutiny that was almost insolent.
“I’m well. Are you planning on staying long?” Wonderful. A minute into the conversation and he already sounded petty and childish.
“You’re staying at least a day or two, Edward, aren’t you?” Penelope’s eyes were fixed anxiously on Macaulay’s face.
Macaulay smiled familiarly down at her. “Since you ask me to, I am. I’ve brought your furniture too. It’s outside. There’s four carts of it. Penny, whatever did you want a great ugly chinoiserie settee for?”
“It was a joke,” Penelope muttered, glancing at Nev, and he remembered his suggestion that they get everything in gilt and bamboo. She had done something sweet and funny for him, and now that was spoiled too.
“Wonderful. Thank you,” Nev said, not meaning it in the slightest. “Then perhaps the housekeeper can show you to your room while I have a word with my wife.”
Edward didn’t move. Instead, he looked to Penelope for guidance. Nev gritted his teeth.
“Yes, Edward, do go,” she said. “You’re covered in dust, and you must be dying to wash and change. When you’re feeling more the thing, we can have a much more comfortable coze.”
“Dear Penelope,” Edward said fondly. “Always sensible.”
Nev knew he must have imagined the flash of annoyance that crossed Penelope’s face.
When Edward had been escorted from the room by the housekeeper, Penelope turned to Nev. She didn’t meet his eyes. “Well, what did Kedge say?”
“Penelope, please. What Percy said-”
“It’s quite all right. It’s natural that you should have-”
“It was that night at Vauxhall. Your name only came up because I couldn’t stop staring at you.”
“Nev, please don’t.”
“Damn it, no. Not this time. You were crying, you can’t tell me-”
“I can tell you whatever I please. Was crying not enough? Or won’t you be satisfied until I’ve also admitted that I’m a silly girl who is ashamed to be caught out daydreaming? Don’t tell me pretty lies just because I’ve made it obvious that I want to hear them. Being sensible and facing the truth is all I have.”
“Penelope, I wouldn’t lie to you. I didn’t realize it at the time, but from the moment I saw you, you made me want to see you again. Sometimes I think I could talk to you forever and never get tired of it. You’re all I have anymore, and somehow it’s enough-”
“Stop,” she said, and she sounded frightened.
“You wouldn’t leave me, Penelope, would you?” He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth; they were plaintive and selfish. And yet he waited for her answer without breathing.
“Leave you?” She looked really taken aback. “Why on earth would I leave you? Have you done something?”
“Nothing new. I just-Macaulay-”
Her face grew very cold. “So that’s what this is all about. You’re afraid I’ll leave you for Edward. Given that your most recent mistress is currently living a mile off, I’m inclined to say that Mr. Garrett was right and you are a hypocrite. Now tell me what the two of you were quarreling over this time.”
It all came flooding back, and Nev could not understand how he had forgotten. “He’s been meeting secretly with Louisa. Kedge knows, and he’s blackmailing us with it. Percy wants to marry her.”
To Nev’s relief, Penelope saw at once all the horror of their situation. She put a hand on the wall to steady herself. “Oh, God, how can Mr. Garrett have been so indiscreet? Do you plan to allow the match?”
“Certainly not. Louisa is seventeen. She’s too young to know her own mind.”
Penelope nodded doubtfully, and he remembered that she was nineteen and that her parents had let her make her own choice. Well, it had been unpardonably foolish of them-only see what had come of it. Only see how miserable she was. If he had had the keeping of her, Penelope would never have got within fifty feet of a wastrel like him.
“Then what are we going to do?” she asked. “If we don’t do something to scotch the scandal, Kedge will have the upper hand of us forever.”
“I don’t know. But I’m not going to sacrifice Louisa, not even for every laborer at Loweston.”
Unexpectedly, she smiled at him. “Well, we’ve got six months to work something out before the lease is up. I’ll think about it while I’m talking to Edward, and maybe tonight we can discuss it some more.”
“You’re going to tell Edward-”
She stared at him. “Of course I wouldn’t tell Edward about your sister.”
He pulled her to him and kissed her, hard. She was breathless when he pulled away, and he rejoiced in it. “Just remember, you will find me harder to give back than I was to buy.”
“I didn’t buy you,” she said. But her cheeks were flushed.
Penelope’s mind was in a whirl; she found it difficult to concentrate on her conversation with Edward. Everything was so muddled and awful: those men in jail, the laborers under Kedge’s thumb, her marriage a shambles-and Nev’s sister, poised on the brink of ruin. How could Louisa have done this to her family? How could she have done this to Nev?
But Penelope, if she admitted it, envied Louisa too. Louisa who was madly in love, Louisa whom Mr. Garrett loved madly enough to throw caution to the winds.
Penelope had tried her whole life to be rational and sensible, to never make a scene, to accept the world as it was. And it had never got her respect or admiration or anything she wanted. It had only got her ignored, or worse, taken for granted.
Nev had been afraid, just now, that she might do something stupid and leave him for Edward. If Nev had ever met Edward, he would have known there was no danger of him doing anything so shocking, but that was beside the point. The point was that Nev might say he wanted to talk to her forever or such rot, but really, it was just as he said: she was all he had. She was a good partner for him, and he was afraid to lose her.
Just then Penelope didn’t want a rational, amicable marriage of equals. She wanted Nev to tell her he couldn’t live without her; that her eyes were like stars and her hands were like a flock of wild birds and a hundred other improbable similes; that his pulse quickened at the very sight of her; that he would die without her…and he never would. Not honestly. Because he liked her but he didn’t love her, because he had married her for her money and that was all there was for girls like Penelope.
A thought struck Penelope like a blow. Mr. Garrett was here at Penelope’s insistence. Why had she meddled? It seemed as if every time she followed her heart instead of her head, she made things worse.
Edward’s voice broke through her reverie. “Penelope, is everything all right? I just asked you four times how you found the weather in Norfolk.”
“I’m sorry. It’s been a difficult week.”
“Poor Penny! Do you want to talk about it?”
“No. I want to hear about you. What brings you to this part of England?”
He looked at her in surprise. “I came to see you. Why else would I be here?”
Her face heated. She felt thoughtless, and guilty. “I thought perhaps-on business-you did not write to say you were coming-”
He looked down, fidgeting. “Penelope-”
“Yes?”
“I was passing through on business, it’s true, but I might have gone a shorter way. I convinced your father to let me oversee the transport of the furniture. I didn’t write because-I wasn’t sure of my welcome when I came here tonight. I hoped you would see me-Heavens, how I hoped-but I thought if I came in person there would be less chance to turn me away. Those engravings-how can you ever forgive me?”
She had forgotten them in the joy of seeing him. And now-in the rush of relief at the knowledge that he had been as afraid to lose her friendship as she was to lose his, in the heady sensation of being wanted, just for herself-she had already forgiven him. It was weak of her, but there it was. “If I didn’t forgive you, I couldn’t talk to you, and I’ve been wanting so to talk to you.”
He smiled at her, a sad smile. “I must have been mad. I was mad-all those years, all our plans. I couldn’t bear it. I wanted to hurt you as you had hurt me. It was not the act of a gentleman.”
“I’m so very sorry, Edward,” she said around the lump in her throat. “It is I who am to blame, I who should beg forgiveness. I broke my word to you. And then I did not know how to tell you-it made my letters short and cold, when they should have been so much more. You’ve been so much to me, all my life.”
He reached out and took her hands in his. They were warm, capable, well-shaped hands, nearly as familiar to her as her own. Affection welled up within her at the sight, dear affection and a thousand memories. And yet there was no spark, no sense of physical recognition when he touched her. There never had been, and she had never known what was missing.
Penelope tried to imagine being married to him, sharing a bed with him. It did not repulse her; it only left her feeling blank. Would she ever have realized that something vital was absent? Or would she have gone her whole life believing that anything more-flame, fire, passion-was a lie dreamt up by horrid novelists?
“Penelope, I could forgive everything, if I believed you were happy. But you aren’t. You look like you used to on school vacations.”
She was surprised that he’d noticed how miserable and thin she had been those years at school. He had never said a word about it. God, how she wanted to tell him everything! But he would hate Nev. “I am happy, Edward.” Her voice sounded false to her own ears; could Edward hear it? “It’s only that there have been troubles with the tenants, and I’m tired.”
He nodded seriously. “All over the country, there’s been disquiet. That’s why-” He flushed and smiled. “That’s why I’m to be director of Mr. Meath’s woolen mill in Norwich.”
“Oh, Edward, how wonderful for you!”
His smile broadened. “I’m young for it, but Mr. Meath assures me he has every confidence in me.”
“Edward, that’s wonderful!” Penelope repeated. “But what’s that to do with the disquiet in the countryside?”
“Well, it’s not entirely an honor. They’ve been having some trouble with trade unionists. The old director stepped down because his wife was afraid for their children, and all the other candidates were family men too.”
So Edward was getting promoted because she had not married him. She wasn’t sure what to feel about that. She wished she knew what Edward felt about it. “Will it be safe?”
He smiled at her. “I’ll be all right. But will you? What has happened?”
She settled for part of the truth. “It’s only-Nev’s father did not do well by the estate, and everyone is so poor and has suffered so much here. And so much of my dowry went to pay old debts or into settlements that we haven’t the funds to do everything we need. And Edward, you should see the books-they use a sort of simple double-entry system!”
He stared. “But then how do you know when you’ve wasted money on a project, or when-”
“You can’t!” His horror made her laugh. “I knew you would understand. Here, I’ve got to show you, you’ll die-Molly, come with us, I want to show Mr. Macaulay the books.”
He put on his spectacles to read them and was properly horrified. For half an hour it was quite like old times. She found herself telling him all about Captain Trelawney, and that first night she and Nev had heard the poachers. “He didn’t seem bothered by it at all. And then he said, ‘Well, usually they don’t hit each other in the dark!’ ” she told him, giggling. She waited for him to laugh too, but he didn’t.
He stared at her with a faintly shocked expression, pushing his glasses down his nose to look at her over them in a motion so familiar she shivered. “You mean there are men running around here shooting each other for game? That’s hardly a laughing matter, Penelope.”
Penelope had forgotten how low Edward could make her feel, when he looked at her in that way. “Well, I know that. It was the way he said it that was funny…” She knew she sounded like a chastened schoolgirl and hated it. “Actually, you’re right, it isn’t funny. They’ve caught most of the poachers now, and they’ll transport them all if we can’t stop it. You should see their wives and children. And mothers: one of the villains is a nine-year-old girl. It’s dreadful. They’re half mad with grief and rage.” It all rushed back, and Penelope felt very cold. She wished Nev were here.
“Is that why you were crying when I came in?”
She looked away.
“We used to tell each other everything,” he said sadly.
And Penelope realized something else. She had never told Edward everything. There were a million things she had never told him, ways she had felt, things she had dreamed. She had never told him about wanting to run off to be a sailor. It wasn’t even that she had been afraid he would condemn her, though he would have. It was that she had condemned herself. She had never told anyone those things, until Nev. She had tried to show Edward, along with everyone else, the person she had wanted to be.
They were the same, she and Edward; they had wanted the same things, respected the same things. If she had married Edward, she would have gone on being drab, practical Penelope forever. And she would have thought that she was living her best, truest self. Never joking or crying or making love in the middle of the day. Speaking seriously on serious subjects. And the part of her that had sobbed and beaten the pillow and wanted to be a sailor at Miss Mardling’s would have grown smaller and smaller until it faded away entirely.
Penelope found that she couldn’t quite bear the thought. She did not want to be ashamed of her feelings anymore.
Edward leaned closer to her and spoke quietly. “Penelope, I-I know that this is very improper, and if you never wish to speak of it again we shall not. But I want you to know that if you wished to leave him, you would always have a home with me.”
She stared. It was the last thing she would ever have expected him to say. “L-leave him?” she said, louder than she meant. She glanced at Molly, bent over her sewing at the far end of the room, as she had sat through all Penelope’s tête-à-têtes with Edward for years. The girl hadn’t looked up. “But Edward, he’s my husband!”
He flushed and took his glasses off with an abrupt gesture. “I know it’s wrong. But any fool can see he doesn’t deserve you. He’s making you miserable.”
She wanted to defend Nev, but she was still too shocked by Edward’s shocking proposal. It was so very unlike him. “But Edward, I would be ruined. Think of the scandal! Think of what Mr. Meath would say!”
“I have thought of it,” he said grimly. “I have been thinking of it ever since I walked into this house and saw you crying. But I would face it for you, Penelope. I love you. I always have. You shall always have a place to go as long as I am breathing.”
Was it possible that all the things she had never felt for Edward, he felt for her? Or did he love her like a sister? It didn’t matter; he had just offered to sacrifice everything he believed and everything he wanted for her. He was her oldest friend and-she found herself crying again.
His hands tightened on hers. “Penny! Give me the word: we’ll go now, this moment-”
She yanked her hands away just as Nev walked into the room. She saw his stunned expression, saw the blazoning of guilt on Edward’s face, and began to laugh through her tears. “Oh, Nev. What a Gothic novel our life has become!”
He just stared at her. So did Edward. She was becoming a madwoman. Perhaps Nev would lock her in the attic and hire Agnes Cusher as her keeper.
“Penelope,” Nev said. “May I speak to you a moment?”
“Of course.” She wondered what she would tell him. Would she tell him what Edward had said? “Edward, if you’ll excuse us a moment.” She followed him into the steward’s sitting room.
“Amy’s woken up,” he said. “They think-they think she might be all right.”
A mingled pang of relief and fear smote her. She did not know what to say. This, then, was the source of his dazed look. Like everything else, it had nothing to do with her.
“She’s asked for me. I-I have to go. But-”
“Of course you must go,” she said, numbly. She wished he would go, and leave her in peace.
But he didn’t. He stood there, his cinnamon hair falling into his downcast eyes, his hands knotting together. “Penelope-I know I’ve no right to ask, especially tonight. But I can’t go without you. It wouldn’t be proper.”
“What exactly is proper about taking your wife to visit your mistress?” Penelope snapped.
Nev looked stricken. And he was right, of course. She could not understand why she hadn’t seen it at once. He could not visit Miss Wray alone without scandal.
Miss Wray had been Nev’s constant companion for a year and she had almost died.
Penelope passed a hand over her eyes. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long evening. Of course you must go. Let me get my cloak and my boots.”
“Thank you, Penelope.” The gratitude in his voice brought fresh tears to her eyes. “I-thank you.”
Amy was awake. Amy would very likely live.
Nev knew he should be overjoyed. He should not be replaying in his mind, over and over, the moment he had walked into the steward’s room and seen Penelope crying, seen that bastard Macaulay leaning toward her and holding her perfect hands in his. Of course they’d been in the damn steward’s room: the room that inevitably made him feel like a dullard, the one room in his own house where he did not belong and never would.
Edward belonged there; anyone could see that. What if Edward belonged with Penelope? She let him see her cry. She had never let Nev see that, not willingly.
And now he had driven a deeper wedge between himself and his wife by asking her to go with him to see Amy. It was hardly a request calculated to endear to her either him or Loweston. But Amy had asked for him. She would be frightened and alone, and he could not fail this responsibility too.
He did not know what to say, so he said nothing, only watched his wife’s face and tried to trace the tear tracks in the moonlight. He couldn’t.
Amy was thin and pale and dirty, and her eyes were full of unhappiness. She had always seemed so happy before.
But she smiled a little when she saw him. “Nev.” It was her, her voice-raspy and weak, yes, but not that strange restless mumble it had been this past week. Something eased inside Nev.
He smiled back. “Amy. I’m so glad you’re all right.”
“Why am I here? Did you-?”
He shook his head, ashamed. “Your mother asked Mrs. Brown to help her remove you to the country, and Mrs. Brown asked Penelope to take you in. Neither of us had any idea it was you until you arrived. You gave me the fright of my life, Amy-we all thought you were done for.”
“Did I make a lot of trouble for you with your wife?” Amy asked in a small voice.
“Not really.” Nev was fairly certain it was a lie. “Penelope’s been very good about the whole thing.”
Amy shrugged a little. He could see the bones in her shoulders. “Doesn’t love you.”
“That’s not fair.” Nev knew he shouldn’t upset Amy when she was still so weak, but he found he was quite incapable of letting such an insult to Penelope pass. That is-of course she didn’t love him. But that wasn’t why she had been so kind about Amy-was it? “She’s been good about it because she’s a kind, principled girl. It would be a dreadful scandal for her if it got about you were here, and she hasn’t breathed a word of reproach to me, only sent you chickens and fuel. She agreed to escort me here tonight, even though she was visiting with an old friend. She’s better than I deserve.”
Amy’s lips twisted. “You’re very happy, then?”
That gave him pause. “I don’t know. I hope-I hope I will be.”
Her gaze sharpened, but she said, “That’s good, Nev, I’m glad.”
“Oh, Amy. I’m so sorry. You should have told me what was wrong, that night at the theater. You should have known I would help you.”
Tears glittered in her eyes. “Should I have?”
He took her hand. “I’ll always help you, Amy.” Finally he said what had to be said. “It was mine, the baby, wasn’t it.”
“Who else’s should it be?” She turned her face to the wall, a very un-Amy-like tremor in her voice, and Nev felt worse than ever. “Are you very angry with me?”
How could he be angry? “No. What do you want to do now?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Nev. Gain back some of this weight, first of all. I just don’t know, I’m so tired.”
“Go to sleep.”
“Will you come and see me tomorrow?”
He felt a flash of irritation and resentment at the request-Penelope would be hurt and angry again, and he had so much to do already-and then guilt at his own selfishness. “If I can. Of course.”
“I’d like that. Stay with me till I’m sleeping, won’t you?”
He nodded.
When she was asleep, he went out into the other room. Penelope sat at the table in earnest conversation with Mrs. Bailey. She looked up at Nev, her face grave. “I think perhaps we ought to find another place for Miss Raeburn.”
“Certainly, if it’s too much trouble for Mrs. Bailey,” Nev said, puzzled.
Mrs. Bailey gave him a pleading look. “That ain’t it, your lordship. Everyone hates us now on account of Jack peaching. And Sir Jasper’s been to visit her, and that doesn’t help none. People have been-a rock came through the window in there and almost hit Miss Raeburn on the head, this morning.”
Nev rocked back on his heels. “Oh. Well, then. Certainly. And-I’ll find someone to guard the house. The children ought to be safe.”
Penelope was unsurprised when she woke up the next morning with her stomach in knots. She barely made it to the basin in her dressing room before casting up her accounts. Thank God Nev hadn’t slept in her bed last night.
Her stomach rolled again. He hadn’t touched her, not after talking to Miss Wray. It was too much, all of it-the poachers and Edward and Miss Wray. She wasn’t strong enough. She had never been strong enough, not at school and not now. She was a weak, silly, nervous girl and she felt like crying.
She wiped her mouth and looked at the Hogarth engravings. Edward’s anger didn’t trouble her anymore, and yet the sharpest sting of the engravings remained: the unequal marriage that ended in disaster. Had Hogarth and Edward and Lady Bedlow been right after all?
Miss Wray had been moved to Agnes Cusher’s house. Penelope brought them some soft white bread, soft enough for Miss Wray.
“Thank you, my lady.” Agnes’s face was closed and lined. She took the basket and didn’t move from the doorway.
“I’d like to talk to Miss Raeburn. I’m writing to my parents, and I thought she might want to include a message for her mother.” It was the truth; Mrs. Brown had asked Penelope to do it. But Penelope wasn’t entirely sorry. She was perversely curious, she admitted to herself. She wanted to see what kind of a woman Nev had chosen when he was choosing for himself.
“That’s very kind of you,” Agnes said, in a voice that said she wasn’t impressed, and moved aside.
Miss Wray lay on a cot in the corner of the room. She looked at Penelope with interest, fighting for breath as she tried to sit up. Agnes was at her side in a moment, arranging pillows behind her with gentle hands.
“Thank you, Agnes.” Miss Wray smiled, and Agnes smiled back, with a malicious glance at Penelope to see how she took it.
Penelope raised her chin. So. Agnes knew this was Nev’s mistress and had taken to her out of spite against Penelope. It didn’t matter. It couldn’t hurt her.
If only Penelope believed that.
“I’m going to fetch water. I’ll be back in a few minutes. Come along, Kit.” And Agnes bustled them out the door as if she couldn’t wait to get away from Penelope.
“Lady Bedlow,” Miss Wray said with some constraint. “Allow me to thank you for-”
“Oh, don’t.” Penelope felt as if she were choking. “It was no hardship, and your mother has worked for my father for so long, and-” She did not know how to break through the polite lies, so she was grateful when Miss Wray did it for her.
“Nev says-” She twisted a golden curl round her finger in a nervous gesture that Penelope could see would be bewitchingly flirtatious when she was a stone heavier and clean and well-dressed. “Nev says you know how things used to be between us. So thanks for not tossing me out or having me quietly poisoned or anything.”
Penelope was surprised into a laugh. “I-it bothers me. But Nev’s been so worried about you and felt so guilty. I wanted you to get well.”
“He oughtn’t to feel guilty. It wasn’t his fault, none of it.”
Penelope could not bring herself to say the obvious, that it had been his child. “He thinks-he thinks you must have wanted for money, to go without proper care. And that he could have helped you, in that way at least.”
“I didn’t want for money,” Amy said wryly, “only sense. My mum didn’t know where the money was, that’s all. And I didn’t tell any of my friends I was in trouble because I felt so stupid. Then I knew it hadn’t gone right, and I was bleeding too much and getting sick. But I was so miserable and angry with myself I just soldiered on, and then it was too late.”
Penelope listened to this speech with a growing and uncomfortable sense of recognition. “I’ve done that. When I was fourteen, I decided to run away from school and tried to climb the fence. But I fell and broke a tooth, and I was too ashamed to tell anyone. I went on like that for weeks until I could barely eat, and one of the teachers noticed my face was red and swollen. I’ve never seen my mother so angry.”
Miss Wray plucked at the blanket. “My mum must be out of her head with worry. You will tell her I’m all right, won’t you?”
“Of course I will. I-listen, I know we’re supposed to be at each other’s throats, hissing like spiteful cats, but none of this is your fault. I don’t see why we can’t be friendly.”
Miss Wray smiled at her, a charming smile that dimpled her cheeks, and Penelope thought of several reasons; but she tamped them down.
“I don’t see why either, though I never expected to be friendly with one of my gentlemen’s wives. But you seem nice enough, and there’s no reason practical girls like us can’t get along.” Miss Wray made a moue, her voice turning a little bitter at the end.
Penelope couldn’t help it, the instinctive recoil at being told by an actress that they were two of a kind, and yet she felt abruptly that they were. They were both London girls who wanted to be something they were not, something glamorous and genteel; they were both girls Nev did not love.
“It gets tiresome being practical, doesn’t it?” Penelope said. “You just want to do something stupid, like smash the china, even though you’d feel foolish the next moment, and it wouldn’t help. You know it wouldn’t make you happy but you can’t help wondering if it-would make you different, somehow.”
Miss Wray nodded ruefully. “They want someone who will give them thrills, and I only know how to make them comfortable. We just aren’t the sort men fall in love with.”
Penelope knew that was true, had always known it; but she thought of Edward. “I don’t know-”
Miss Wray’s eyes brightened. “So there is someone? That old friend Nev was so jealous of?”
“We were engaged, before,” Penelope confessed.
“Is it Ed Macaulay? My mum always said the two of you would make a match of it for sure. Half the girls in the plant were green with envy.”
Penelope was startled for a moment. But of course the Raeburns would have known Edward. “Yes.”
“You gave him up for a title, and you’re sorry.”
“I-it wasn’t the title. I gave him up for Nev, because Nev needed me and he was so-” She searched for the word that would describe Nev and why she had wanted him, and could not find it.
“Nev has a way about him, doesn’t he?” Miss Wray asked wistfully. “He gave me money when we split up, you know. He told me he knew it would be more useful than a pretty diamond bracelet, and he was right-but from him I would rather have had the bracelet.”
Penelope felt a pang, thinking of Nev learning to be practical. “Did you-” It was a terribly personal question, but she needed to know. “Why didn’t you want the baby?”
Miss Wray stared at her wasted hands. “I-” She swallowed. “I shouldn’t tell you.”
Penelope felt cold. Perhaps she didn’t need to know after all. What secret did Miss Wray have to share about Nev? “I-” Her lips had gone dry. “I don’t mean to intrude upon personal confidences.”
Miss Wray’s mouth twisted. “Such a good girl. No. You deserve to know, only-I suppose you won’t let me stay, and-”
“You can stay,” Penelope said before she knew she was going to. “Until you’re well, I promise you that.”
Miss Wray looked back at her hands, her mouth a tight line. “I don’t know if was his.”
Penelope stared. “What?”
“I don’t know if it was his. Nev’s friend Thirkell-Nev threw him over too, and he came by to see how I was doing. I was so grateful, and we had too much to drink, and-it was such a stupid thing to do. And I couldn’t tell Nev. I ought to have, none of this is his responsibility, either of yours, but I-I was afraid that you would toss me out.” She licked her cracked lips. “And I was angry.”
“He thinks you didn’t tell him you were in trouble because you didn’t trust him to help.” He’d be so relieved to learn that it wasn’t that at all-wouldn’t he? Or would he be jealous?
“Poor Nev. I suppose you’ll tell him.”
“I think I have to.” And yet-she understood so clearly why Miss Wray would not want Nev to know.
“Wait till I’m gone, won’t you? Until I’m back in London?”
Penelope nodded.
The next day was the first day of Sir Jasper’s house party. All the Ambreys were invited to pick strawberries with the guests, and Nev didn’t see how they could get out of it with any grace. Since Macaulay was still at the Grange, he came along.
The moment the party from the Dower House climbed into the carriage, it was clear that Louisa knew that Nev knew about her indiscretion. She sat silently in the corner, flushed and sullen. That meant, Nev realized with dismay, that she had a means of communicating secretly with Percy.
It was equally clear that their mother had not the slightest idea of what was going on. While Penelope and Macaulay conversed quietly about mutual acquaintances, Lady Bedlow spent the drive to Greygloss instructing Louisa on how to attract Sir Jasper. “And be polite to him this time!” she repeated for the tenth time.
“Mother, stop it,” Nev said.
“Yes, we all know if you had your way she’d be running around behaving in whatever hoydenish way she likes!”
Nev raised his eyebrows. “That is not in the least true. I am frequently disappointed in Louisa’s behavior.”
Louisa flushed.
Upon their arrival they were shown into the parlor, where Sir Jasper and most of the houseguests were already assembled in their most summery clothes. The Ambreys, still in full mourning, stood out painfully. Nev looked around the room for familiar faces-
He froze. In the corner were Thirkell’s aunt and his cousin Harriet. Beside them, Thirkell gazed at him uneasily. And next to him stood Percy, pale but defiant.
What the devil?