Penelope swallowed. It was true. She had wrapped her arms around him, had she not? She’d pulled him closer. A wave of nausea overcame her as she was so rudely reminded of her own actions this day.
She did not know what to think or feel. There was anger at him, but now she had to look at her own actions more closely. A prospect she did not look forward to.
“Bridget, please, do not be cross. I was caught in the moment. I... It was a mistake. I would never wish to take the man you want from you. And it is you he wants! He told me so himself.”
Bridget glared at her, eyes narrowed. “You enjoyed it. No lady kisses a man in such a manner if she feels nothing at all for him.”
Penelope swallowed. There was nothing she could say. She despised lies, even more so when the person she would have to lie to was someone she cherished as she did Bridget.
Before she could say anything else, a figure pushed through the crowd toward them.
“Mama!” Bridget exclaimed as Mrs. Hughes appeared. She was a short, stout woman with a kind, handsome face. Her eyes were of an emerald green that under normal circumstances, would glimmer and sparkle in the sunlight. Today, there was neither a glimmer nor sparkle. Her eyes were narrowed just as her daughter’s and her face was a mask of anxiety.
Bridget at once threw her arms around her mother, who was even shorter than her daughter.
“Now, now.” The woman’s voice was soothing and warm as she ran her hand along her daughter’s back. “It is not as bad as all that, is it? Now, get ahold of yourself, Bridget. We don’t want to give these people more to talk about than they already have, do we?”
Bridget stepped back and wiped her eyes, her face flushed red.
“There is nothing that could cause me greater humiliation than what has already occurred.” She glared at Penelope who averted her eyes, desperately looking for something else to look at. Bridget stepped back from her mother, pulling out a handkerchief. “What will they think? They will think me a fool, and rightly so. I cheered him on because I was so sure he would choose me, kiss me. I told all of my friends that he would.”
Penelope felt sick as she watched her friend’s despair. To think that she’d caused this pain and humiliation made her want to run away and hide at once. She loved Bridget dearly. Even though she could at times be the silliest of girls and was somewhat younger than her years, she was good and kind. Bridget had a heart of gold and did not deserve to be reduced to tears in front of the entire town.
Why are they not leaving? There is nothing left to see here. They only want to witness this spectacle because they have no other entertainment.
Penelope glared at the crowd and then chided herself for her ill thoughts. This was a small town. Any scandal was bound to be made ten times as large as it really was, for that was the nature of gossip. It was meant to entertain, no matter what harm it might cause the subjects of the gossip. She shuddered. She was the subject. She knew it already. While Bridget fretted and cried now, come tomorrow it would be Penelope who was considered the principal player in this scene. She and Daniel.
She caught the glance of Mrs. Hughes who had an arm around Bridget. There was a kindness on her face suddenly that Penelope thought she’d never see again. Mrs. Hughes reached out to her and took her by the wrist.
“Come, Lady Penelope. We must leave. We cannot remain here and be subjected to the stares and whispers of the townsfolk. We must return you to Branigan Manor, posthaste.”
She allowed Mrs. Hughes to usher her out of the town square and toward the carriage, with Bridget walking on the other side of them as she shot daggers in Penelope’s direction with her eyes. Her friend clearly was not in the mood to show charity, not that it was expected of her.
“I did not mean for this to happen,” she said. She didn’t direct it toward either of the women, but more to herself. “I did not expect this to happen. How could I?”
Mrs. Hughes’ grip tightened around her wrist. “I know, dear. How could you have? Faith, I blame myself above all. I was meant to look after you, to chaperone you. His Grace will be livid.”
The woman’s jaw clenched and Penelope felt a rush of cold at the mention of her father.
“He will be angry at me. I did not behave as I should have.”
Mrs. Hughes sighed heavily as they made their way toward the carriages. “You did not. You should have pushed him away as soon as he approached. Not for Bridget’s sake, as much as your own. But in the end, it is my fault, as I promised your father that I would watch over you. Heaven forewent, I am to blame. You are a young girl with no experience with this matter.”
“Mother! Do not take her side. She… she pulled him near. She kissed him, too. She is at fault as much as he. My so-called best friend! What a horrid thing to do.”
Penelope’s eyes began to water. She could not take much more of her friend’s anger. Her mother, however, shook her head.
“Now, Bridget, do not be so harsh. You know as well as I that His Grace likes to keep Lady Penelope under his wing.” She turned to Penelope. “I’ve asked him many a time to allow us to take you to Brighton or Bath with us, to allow you some experience in the real world. He always said no. I wish he had, for you might have known what to do had you more experience in the world. But as I said, it will all be on me. I ought to have been a better chaperone. There’s no denying it. I should’ve stayed by your side the entire time, just as a good chaperone should.”
They arrived at the carriage and it was becoming more and more apparent that Mrs. Hughes worried as much about what Penelope’s father would say as her daughter worried about what the townsfolks might make of tonight’s events. Penelope swallowed. This was getting worse and worse by the moment. Now this kind woman, Mrs. Hughes, was in danger of incurring the wrath of her father.
They climbed into the carriage and Penelope sat in the far-right corner while Bridget was seated next to her mother on the other side, her arms crossed. Penelope knew her friend well enough to understand her stance and expression were rooted in being deeply hurt and she felt awful for it. However, the closer they got to the Manor, the more she found herself worried about her father.
What will he say? Perhaps, I can speak to him and break the news in a gentle manner to ensure that he does not think ill of me… What if my behavior causes him to grow worse? He is so weak…
“Lady Penelope?” Mrs. Hughes asked. When she looked at her, she noticed the expression of concern on her face. “You’ve grown pale. You are at sixes and sevens, are you not?” She reached across and clasped her hand.
“I worry about my father.”
