She’d known him for so long. Why had she not ever noticed how his eyes crinkled when he smiled? Why had she not noticed that although he dressed conservatively, it enhanced the fitness of his physique and the strength of his legs?
She remembered how hard his thighs were, how solid his chest felt.
“No,” she said around the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat. She cleared it. “I’m not angry with you.”
He still held her hand. Before she realized what he was doing, he had drawn the long silk glove down her wrist and over her fingertips. With his index finger, he touched the outline of the cut, which was healing up nicely. There was one small puncture wound where his tooth caught her skin.
He looked somewhat satisfied. “It appears to be fine but continue to apply a salve.”
Penelope snatched her glove back and proceeded to slide it back onto her hand and arm. What would people think? He was practically undressing her in the middle of an overflowing ballroom!
“It’s fine.” Tilting her head to get a better angle at his nose, she asked, “What of you? Does it still hurt.”
Hugh touched the bridge of his nose hesitantly. That teasing glint appeared. “Not broken after all. Probably a good thing. A crooked nose would have ruined my perfect profile. But really, I deserved it. I’ll do well to remember the pain whenever I think of saying something stupid, I’ll remember that it may not be wise to make jokes—jokes where ladies are concerned anyhow.”
Penelope sat up straight. She wasn’t used to being teased. Hewasteasing her, wasn’t he? “Very well.” She sounded far too prim and proper. Flirting had not been something she’d ever set out to master.
So instead of coming up with a clever response, she sounded as though she were angry with him after all. “I’m glad I can help you out with that.”
He was apparently not to be baited by the edge in her voice. He took her other hand and assisted her to her feet. “The orchestra is warming up again. Which will it be? A dull country dance? Or will you walk with me again outside? I hear Lady Ravensdale’s prizewinning roses have begun blossoming this week.”
It was exactly what she wanted, and yet, in that instance, all of her good intentions fled. She could tell him later. This was not the only set she’d reserved for him, after all. “A dull country dance.” She smiled at his scowl. Taking his arm, she allowed him to lead her out to the floor. She knew that Danbury did notreallymind dancing.
In fact, she did not either, when one had a pleasant partner—one who knew where he could appropriately put his hands, one who did not smell of onions, perspiration, and garlic.
This dance was a lively one. They lined up near the Earl and Countess of Hawthorne and her longtime friend Betsy and her husband. She could never remember Betsy’s husband’s name. He was a rather nondescript barrister. Or had been. Penelope believed they were now living off of Betsy’s inheritance. A distant aunt had recently passed and left Betsy an enormous portion. And what was Betsy’s now belonged to her husband.
Who currently handed her back into the hands of Danbury. “You do not look faint,” he said before twirling her off to his side. When she returned, he added, “You are well?”
“I am,” she said quickly before being relinquished to take Lord Hawthorne’s outstretched hand.
“No debates tonight?” Lady Natalie’s husband teased her. “No blood or dismemberments yet?”
Penelope used her fan to slap him playfully on the arm. Who would have thought the earl could be so good natured? She laughed up at him before being passed back to Hugh.
A warm light glowed in his eyes. Or was it just the candlelight? She hadn’t expected to enjoy this particular dance, but somehow she found herself smiling more than usual.
And then the dance ended and the doors to the supper room were thrown open wide.
Penelope found a seat with Natalie and Betsy while the gentlemen disappeared to procure their plates from the large buffet.
“You are not sitting at the hosts’ table, my lady?” Betsy did not know Natalie as well as Penelope did.
“I am not the hostess. My mother is.” She smiled pleasantly. There was a slight flush on her cheeks and forehead. It reminded Penelope of Natalie’s condition, which had still not been made public.
And that reminded Penelope of her own condition.
It was one of the first evenings in a long time that she’d not experienced any dizziness or stomach upset. Oh, wouldn’t it be wonderful if the sickness had come to an end?
“Speaking of being a hostess,” Penelope remembered. “How is Maple Hall coming along?”
“It will be two years before we can consider living there. We’re splitting our time between London Hills and the dower house at Maple Hall. Garrett wants me to settle down this summer, though, what with—” She placed her hand over her mouth and changed the subject quickly. “Will Monfort and your cousin be coming to London at all this season?”
“Not this year.” Penelope had just received a letter from Abigail the day before. Newly married last fall, the duke and duchess were expecting their own little miracle in early June.
There must be something catching in England.
“They’ve decided to remain at Brooke’s Abby.” She leaned forward and whispered in Natalie’s ear. When she sat back, she spoke out loud again. “Monfort is very protective of the duchess.”
