The seduction of Viscount Danbury. She’d lured him in and then, well… She didn’t even wish to think about what they’d done.
It had been horrible. Well, part of it anyway—that end part, when it had hurt so much—and then again, when Hugh had gone and passed out.
Yes, she’d given herself to the scoundrel, and he’d barely had the courtesy to stay awake through it all.
Burying her head under her pillow, Penelope groaned with mortification as she remembered how she’d shoved Hugh off of her. After she slipped out from beneath his hulking form, he’d snuggled back into the cushions and begun snoring softly.
And then she’d realized there had been blood! She was lucky none had gotten on the settee. But her bloomers and petticoat were both stained. She’d done her best with a small handkerchief to clean herself off, and God help her, to some extent, Hugh.
She’d then pulled his britches back together, tossed a blanket upon him, and raced for her room. Thank heavens Rose, her maid, could be trusted. Penelope had rinsed the offensive garments out herself and hung them on the screen to dry, but Rose would not be fooled.
In spite of having not really slept for nearly two days, it had taken quite some time to fall asleep. She had lain in bed forever, questions and guilt swirling about her mind. Would she be with child? Would Hugh hate her forever? Would he offer for her? And the most frightening thought of all: would he even remember what they’d done?
She’d heard stories of certain people not recalling events that occurred while they were inebriated.
Ought she to have left him undone, so when he awakened, he would be forced to remember? But then anybody could have walked in on him. Hugh would have been mortified. For all his swagger and roguishness, he prided himself on being a gentleman. He was a good man. She could never have allowed him to be embarrassed so horribly.
She would face him today and, of course, he’d offer for her.
She climbed out of bed, ignoring the unfamiliar twinges between her legs and dressed in a simple gown. Rose would have something to say about all of this later.
Bracing herself for the possibility that she could run into Hugh at any moment, she marched downstairs to the morning room where a scrumptious-smelling breakfast had already been set out upon the sideboards.
Cortland, Lilly’s husband, was seated but pushed back his chair and rose when he saw Penelope in the doorway. He was a man who looked quite satisfied with his life. He was alone.
Penelope gestured for him to sit down again—they had been friends for several years now—and she turned to fill a plate for herself. “Lilly is well this morning? And the babe?” she asked.
Cortland chuckled. “Both of them are catching up on their sleep. What a red-faced little screamer, was he not? When he welcomed himself into this world?”
Penelope found a seat and organized the shining silverware around her plate. She then nodded at the hovering footman and waited as he poured hot tea. “He was at that,” Penelope agreed. “I am glad Lilly is resting. She did marvelously, don’t you think?” Of course, the duke would agree with her. He doted on his duchess.
Penelope watched as the duke again took on that funny, happy expression that had first appeared yesterday afternoon. “She was amazing. Proudest moment of my life.”
Penelope took a careful sip of the hot tea and watched him over the rim. She then, oh-so-casually asked him, “Has Danbury seen the little marquess yet? He was awfully deep in his cups when I found him.”
At her words, Cortland took on a more serious demeanor. “He left at first light. His mother has taken ill.”
She blinked a few times in confusion. Unwilling to believe he’d do this to her and then barely contained a snort of incredulity. That scoundrel! That oafish ape! He was running away from her!His mother taken ill, my foot!
“He is returning to Morrow Point then? Delaying his trip north?” She’d known he had important business to attend to. Tenant unrest was becoming something of a problem for many of the nation’s landlords. “I’d thought his business up there was rather urgent.”
Cortland poured himself some more tea before answering. He would be used to discussing such worldly issues with Penelope by now. She was no simpering miss. “He was quite concerned about her health. Didn’t leave any details but specifically instructed that nobody follow him in case it’s catching.”
“Is his sister well?” Penelope was stunned. Perhaps he wasn’t being a blighter, after all.
“He didn’t say. We will simply have to await his news. I’m hopeful that his mother has merely exaggerated the seriousness of her malady. She’s done so in the past.”
“Oh, I hope so, too.” Penelope wasn’t sure what to think.
As she dug in to her breakfast more heartily, she decided she’d worried the entire situation too much already. She needed to take responsibility for her actions and move forward without dwelling on possible regrets.
One,she had given her innocence away to an old friend who’d been barely sober enough to accomplish the deed.
Two,he had then disappeared and was possibly putting his own life into imminent danger.
And third, she might very well this moment be with child herself, with the father on death’s door.
She mustn’t overthink any of this.
