“I’d imagine the little marquess will appreciate it.” But he was scowling.
“The marquess? Oh, yes, of course, little Edward.” That hadn’t been what Penelope had been thinking at all!
“Aren’t you going to ask me if I found anything?” He continued to scowl but Penelope was finding him somewhat adorable. Hugh was a clever man. He’d achieved high marks while at Oxford and on occasion had expressed his regret at not being allowed to make a career out of scholarly endeavors. She found it substantially satisfying to have outmaneuvered him.
“What did you find, Hugh?” she asked smugly.
Whereas her nonchalant knitting had not captured his attention, her tone of voice did.
Finally, took him long enough.
“You know very well that I found nothing.” His eyes narrowed as he dropped both feet to the floor and leaned toward her. “What haveyoufound, Penelope?”
And then Penelope did something she’d never done before.
She fluttered her eyelashes.
Hugh looked at her sideways. “Whathaveyou found, Penelope?”
Dropping the knitting into her lap, enjoying his consternation completely, Penelope goaded him further. “Do I look like I’ve found something?” She shrugged and indicated her dress. “I’ve no pockets—no purse. Where would I put it? That is, where would I putanything,if I had in fact found it?”
She jumped back when he lurched over to the settee, practically on top of her.
Leering with exaggerated ferocity, his fisted hands pushed deep into the cushions on each side of her. She was trapped. Then he waggled his eyebrows threateningly, trying to appear menacing. “Hand it over, you minx!” he growled, but amusement lit his eyes.
“There is nothing on my person, Hugh,” she laughed. The scent of his cologne invited sensations she’d do well to ignore. She remembered it from before and had an urge to pull him closer.
“You have obviously found something, wench,” he said through gritted teeth. “And I’m going to discover it eventually, so fess up now, woman.” He was doing his best to contain the laughter threatening to overcome him. Although he held most of his weight off of her, he did not appear to strain at all. She could not keep her gaze from straying to the dark hairs at the opening of his shirt. She remembered she’d flicked her tongue along them before.
And then his full weight dropped, pinning her, and one of his hands was running along the length of her body.
Oh no! She couldn’t prevent the half giggle, half screech that tore from her lips when she realized his intent.
He was tickling her!
“Stop, Hugh. Stop.” She tried freeing her hands so that she could cease his relentless torture. “You brute, I’m too ticklish, Hugh. Stop! Please!” Was she still laughing, or had she began to cry? She wasn’t sure, but she felt a few tears roll down her cheek.
Something in her voice caught his attention and he stopped suddenly. Both of them breathed heavily from their exertions but neither moved. Instead, Hugh gazed down at her with a funny expression.
“You really have the prettiest eyes, Pen.”
Penelope swallowed.
Hugh just kept looking at her and then added, “I never did understand you. So set against marriage, determined to emasculate every man you’ve ever met. Don’t you ever wish you didn’t have to be so… different?”
As his words penetrated the temporary insanity that had overcome her, she used all of her strength to form a mighty shove, which resulted in Hugh sprawled on the floor.
“You… You… bacon brained, nitwitted, beastly maggot!”
How dare he criticize her independence! Why did everyone in society think that all women needed to be the same? Why was it that there was this notion that an ideal woman was one who dressed prettily and kept her opinion to herself? Why was it that a woman was only considered useful in that she could provide her husband with children?
Women had brains, too!
Well, she did anyhow!
He’d told her the very last thing she ever wanted to hear from a man, from anyone.
He’d told her he thought she should change.
