“Balls, routs, parties, picnics. Your sponsor insists that only the best will do. No expenses are to be spared.”
Pen scratched her head. “I don’t know. I’m not terribly good in social situations.”
“Please don’t do that,” Mrs Wentwood said gently. “Scratching your head. And no one is good in social situations unless they practise their social skills.”
“What if I decline?”
“You won’t.”
Pen looked at her, confused. “And why won’t I decline?”
“Because, as I understand it, your biggest desire currently is a reunion with your guardian, am I correct?”
Their eyes met. Pen nodded.
“Then you must understand that this reunion depends on you entering the season—as a lady.”
She as good as gave away that Marcus was the sponsor. A mix of contradictory emotions coursed through Pen. Relief that her charade was finally over. Resistance to be turned into a simpering lady. A sparkle of excitement at the thought of dancing at a ball. And resignation.
“You must forgive me, but I have taken the liberty to pack your belongings. I do not believe you will need many of them. But as they are yours, it is understood they will be taken along.” Mrs Wentwood attempted to lift the trunk.
Pen jumped up, and like a true gentleman, took the trunk from her.
“I see it will be a considerable amount of work,” Mrs Wentwood said pensively.
“What is?”
“To turn you back into a girl.”
Mrs Charlotte Wentwood’shusband was very busy and rarely at home, she told Pen in the carriage on the way to her home.
“I daresay George barely knows what his father looks like,” Mrs Wentwood added.
“George?”
“My little son. He is three. And a rascal.” A smile lit up her face, and she looked beautiful.
“Mrs Wentwood. I just want you to know that I appreciate what you are doing for me. But it will be quite in vain. I have no social manners at all, and I am determined not to marry. I am only doing this because I want to be reunited with my guardian.”
“Please call me Charlotte.” She smiled, and a dimple appeared in her cheek. “And I may call you Penelope, yes? I agree you will be quite a challenge, but I like challenges. I have given my promise to help you and help you I will.”
“But why? You don’t even know me.”
“No, I don’t. But I know the friend we both share. I am doing this for my friend.”
There it was again. Friend. Pen wondered what kind of relationship, exactly, Marcus and Charlotte had that she would go out of her way to help a complete stranger. He must’ve offered her a considerable amount of money for such a favour, she concluded. On the other hand, she herself would also do anything for her friends if they asked her. Without blinking.
“Is this really what he wants? That I am a girl again?”
“Oh yes. More than anything. He requires your dedicated participation.”
“If, say, I am successful in having a season, will your—our—friend then agree to come out of his incognito? So I may meet and talk to him?”
Charlotte weighed her head back and forth. “We haven’t talked about it. But I suppose why not.”
Pen’s face brightened.
“The stories I have heard about you! Is it true you took part in a duel?”
