Even Society would offer little support.
But Cheverley was alive, and with luck, he was still listening.
Cheverley hadn’t answered when she’d asked him if he intended to claim his place.
Unfortunately, she would have to force his hand.
He wants this. He needs this.
“Perhaps,” she said slowly, “I have delayed too long in making a choice to wed.”
Anthony sighed. “That’s better, sweet.”
“Sweet,” she repeated. He had no idea what a lioness she really was, did he?
His loss.
She was a lioness. She had wit, courage, determination, and the wonderful, awesome power of love.
Lord Thomas rose from his chair, went to the sideboard, and poured Penelope a glass of wine. He gave her the drink.
“Here’s to choice, Lady Chev.”
“Indeed.” She took a sip. The rich, spicy liquid calmed as she looked up into his strange expression “Mr. Anthony,” she said, “both you and Lord Thomas have expressed interest in my hand.”
She strolled closer to the panel concealing the servants’ stair.
“You have been living in my father-in-law’s house, eating his food”—she lifted her glass—“drinking his wine.” She met Anthony’s gaze. “And you’ve been waiting formeto come toyou.Does that sound like proper courtship to you?You’vebeen taking. A proper suitor gives.”
“Gifts?” Thomas grinned. “You want gifts?”
“What kind of gifts?” Anthony asked.
She thought of those men. Of the cargo they secreted up the side of the mountain. “A lady loves lace.” Belgian in particular. “Perfume.” Say, from Cologne. “And, of course”—she sipped from her glass—“a fine, red burgundy.” From France.
All of which, given the war, would be impossible to obtain without smuggling.
“Laces, perfumes, wine,” Thomas replied. “Seems reasonable enough.”
“Reasonable?” Anthony replied. “We’ll plie her with gifts, and she willstillseek to delay?”
“It’s not as if you can force her to say vows, Anthony,” Thomas argued. “The vicar wouldn’t stand for that. We have her word she’ll finally choose, don’t we, Lady Chev?”
“On one condition.” She cast her gaze to the hidden door that led to the servants’ stair and prayed that Cheverley would hear and would understand. “You both seem to enjoy outdoor games.” She turned back to Anthony. “After I have received your gifts, I’ll hold a competition.”
“What kind of competition?” Thomas asked.
“You cannot expect me to wed a lesser man than my first husband, can you?You will compete by attempting to string Lord Cheverley’s bow and shoot an arrow through twelve axe handles. And if you can do as he did, I swear on the deed to Pensteague I will wed the winner.”
Thomas’s laughter started as a snort and ended in a full-belly chuckle.
“That’s absurd,” Anthony said.
Thomas stopped laughing and wiped his eyes. “Are you afraid you won’t be able to win?”
Anthony bristled. “Of course not.”
“Then it’s settled,” Penelope said. “I suggest you begin collecting your gifts at once.”
