Natalie smiled smugly. She was convinced that it was she who had brought the duke and his new duchess together. “As he well should be.”
“As Hawthorne is of you.” Penelope added. She wanted to say something of Betsy’s husband but his name persisted to elude her.
Betsy cleared her throat and then took the pause in conversation as an opportunity to regale the table with her eldest son’s recent exploits. Penelope’s mind wandered. Was she carrying a little boy? One with black hair and warm eyes? Or was it a girl, like her? She’d be happy with either, so long as the baby was healthy. Her baby. And Danbury’s. Wonder of wonders.
Out of nowhere, a plate appeared in front of her and on it were all of her favorite foods. But how?
“I’ve known you since before the war, Pen. Of course, I know your tastes.” It was as though Hugh had read her mind. As he sat down, her awareness of him drowned out whatever Betsy was saying.
Penelope ate with her left hand, and he ate with his right. The second time they bumped arms, he leaned near her. “Next time, I’ll remember to sit on your other side.” Penelope went to hand her fork into her right hand, but he stopped her. “You don’t have to do that.” He angled his chair and slid it backward somewhat. The next time they both raised their arms, his was slightly behind hers and they did not collide.
He adjusted his needs to mine.
The remainder of the conversation covered the latest on dits as well as upcoming affairs. A trip to Vauxhall was in the planning for the coming week and Penelope could tell that Betsy had figured out Natalie’s delicate condition. The woman was mother to five strapping boys, after all.
On an alarming thought, she wondered if Betsy would see that she was increasing as well.
“We won’t be staying for the entire season,” Hawthorne said before giving his wife a loving look.
“But we’ll be able to attend your party, Betsy,” Natalie continued for her husband. “I haven’t been to Vauxhall in ages!”
Betsy’s husband was speaking to Hugh. “I’ve reserved a box not far from the large stage. Betsy would have nothing less.”
Hugh glanced over at Penelope, “What do you think, Miss Crone? Will you allow me to escort you to Vauxhall next week?”
At Natalie’s surprised glance, Penelope felt herself blushing. She never blushed! She was a cool-headed, fair-skinned redhead. She stabbed her fork into a tender shoot of corn. “You may,” she said into her plate.
She realized that for the first time in her life, she was a part of a couple. It felt that way anyhow. Perhaps the others simply assumed that Hugh was being polite to ask to escort her. She’d always been included in their activities before, only then it had been as the token spinster, as one of the chaperones practically.
Betsy clasped her hands in front of her enthusiastically. “Oh, this will be so fun! Your mother’s ball is a resounding success, of course, my lady,” she said to Natalie, “But it will be so fun to take some activity outside.”
The others agreed and as Penelope looked around at their faces, she realized that Danbury watched her curiously. A shiver ran up her spine.
She wished she’d opted to stroll outside with him earlier, after all. The large room that had been opened up for dining was clearing out quickly. Sounds of the orchestra tuning their instruments floated in through the giant open doors. She had promised the next set to some Rome. She was not interested in dancing anymore tonight. An overwhelming tiredness swept over her.
Oh, yes, and there was that queasy feeling again, thank you very much. She held a strawberry up to her nose and inhaled deeply.
Natalie smiled impishly over at her. “Mother cultivates them herself. She’s managed to grow some amazingly sweet blackberries as well!”
Natalie then rose to her feet, followed by Betsy. After realizing the gentlemen were waiting upon her, Penelope rose as well, careful to keep hold of the tall back of her chair. She’d learned that when this feeling overcame her, she needed to move slowly. Sudden moves were not a good idea. It would pass.Please let it pass.
Placing her hand on his sleeve, Hugh steered her around a few tables and toward the ballroom. Once there, however, he kept right on walking with her, along the wall and outside onto the terrace.
Once he located a somewhat private alcove with an iron bench, he pulled her down to sit and looked into her eyes with the utmost of concern. “Are you dying, Penelope?”
Chapter 13
It was the only logical conclusion Hugh could come to.
The fainting, the paleness of her complexion, and all of the other changes that had come over her. She must be terrified of leaving this earth without experiencing the act of love and perhaps marriage. She must be looking at all of the experiences she’d missed out upon during her short adult life and decided to try to accomplish a few of them now.
“I know you’ve never set your cap for a husband. You’ve never included yourself in many of the feminine pursuits other ladies do. And you are afraid you’ll miss out.” He hoped he was wrong, but he could not think of anything else that would cause Penelope Crone to become so frail and delicate.
Except she did not look as though she were wasting away tonight.
“Oh, no, no, no! Hugh! Of course, I’m not dying. I’m healthy as a horse! Always have been.” She smiled at him brightly but then bit her lip.
“Then tell me what it is.” He was relieved to hear such conviction in her voice regarding her good health. Thank God she was not truly dying. As soon as the thought had entered his mind, he’d felt a darkness settle upon him.
