“Will you be my… estate manager?”
A storm of magnificent proportions began swirling around inside of her head as she stared at his grinning mouth. Had he really just said what she thought he’d said? Penelope pulled her hand away from his shoulder, clenched it into a fist, and without taking even a moment to think matters through, released it to make very solid contact with Danbury’s nose.
Chapter 11
She stepped back in horror at what she’d actually done and Hugh bent over covering his nose with both hands. Large drops of blood appeared on the stone and in the dirt.
Penelope pulled out the handkerchief she’d tucked into her dress and went to dab at Danbury’s face. But he was more than a little wary and turned his head away from her.
“God damnit, Pen!” he said just before spitting a large amount of blood onto the ground. He reached up and snatched the cloth out of her hand. “I was only joking with you! I cannot believe you actually did that.” And then in wonder, or perhaps shock, he said, “My nose. I think you’ve broken it.”
Oh, this was horrible!
“Let me see, Hugh, look up here.” He stood up straight and removed another handkerchief from his own pocket. His head tilted back and she could see that his nose remained as straight and arrogant looking as ever. Dripping down his face, however, the blood looked black.
“I’m pretty sure it isn’t broken.” Not that it would mar his looks in any way. Penelope looked down at her hand and realized that she, too, was bleeding.
She must have caught it on one of his teeth.
Again, he said, “I cannot believe you did that.” Blood flowed freely from his nostril. She looked down at her dress and realized that it had not escaped the splatter.
“It was not a very good joke, Hugh.” It really wasn’t. This was really his own fault.
Remembering a fountain they’d passed just before stopping, Penelope swiped one of the handkerchiefs away from Hugh and turned to go back to it.
“You can’t return to the ball looking like that.”
Without looking back at him, she waved her hand dismissively. “I’m going back to the fountain. Stay here, I’ll return shortly.”
As she soaked the once pristine cloth, she saw that the handkerchief she’d taken was his. The crest embroidered on it must be that of his family. After swirling it around, rinsing out the blood, she squeezed it tightly and folded it into a careful rectangle. When she found Hugh again, he was sitting on a conveniently placed iron bench. She sat down beside him and turned his head so that she could dab at the blood on his lip and chin.
When she touched it to his nostril, she was careful not to press too hard, knowing he might be feeling some pain. He merely watched her from beneath shuttered lids.
“Is that really what you wanted to ask me, Hugh?”
He scowled but then caught sight of the cut on her hand. “You’re bleeding.”
She examined the scratch and shrugged. “It’s nothing.”
But he picked her hand up and examined it more closely. “You need to get it cared for though. A fellow at Gentleman Jackson’s died of such an injury.”
“Joking with me again?”Really, Hugh.
The look in his eyes was serious though. “No, I wish I were. There was a fighter a few years back whose fist came away with a tooth in it. Within weeks, the hand became putrid and he later died of fever.”
Observing the stains on his cravat and the part of his lip that was already swelling, she smiled inwardly at his concern for her. But his story was a strange one. “Were you well acquainted with the man?”
His look became shuttered again. “I’d sparred with him on several occasions.” He scowled at the blood on her dress and then stood up and pulled her with him. “You can’t be seen like that. Come with me.”
Feeling like a child playing Sardines, Penelope followed Hugh as he carefully maneuvered her through the trees until they came up just alongside the terrace, hidden by some shrubs. The silhouette of a couple was barely visible, but their conversation carried easily across the protective hedges.
“I don’t wish for you to overtire yourself. If you’re unwell, we will leave. Lady Helmer will understand.” It was a familiar male voice, but Penelope could not place it.
“I’m fine, Garrett.” Penelope easily recognized Natalie Spencer, Rome’s only sister and the newly married Countess of Hawthorne. “I just wanted to be outside with you, alone for a few minutes.” Theirs was a love match. Lady Natalie and Garrett Castleton would have been considered an impossible match a year ago, but they had somehow, miraculously become the darlings of theton.
“Hawthorne,” Danbury spoke softly to attract their attention without alerting anyone else.
“What the…?” The earl moved in front of his wife protectively as he turned to see who was in hiding nearby.
