Be reasonable. She did not know for certain that she was with child. She was expecting her monthlies in a few weeks and could not do one whit about it.
Hugh had departed, and she could not do one whit about that either.
She was a grown woman. She was not one to give in to a fit of vapors.
But she could not eat a single bite more. Taking a final sip of her tea, she made her excuses to Cortland and then headed upstairs to check in on the baby. He was so very adorable! She wondered what her own would look like…
The nurse was quite happy to hand the little lad over to Penelope. Lilly had just fed him and was already resting again. The babe, however, was wide awake and alert and gazed back at her with curious eyes. Cradling him in her arms, she sat in the rocking chair and cooed at him. “Such a beautiful boy you are, aren’t you, my love?” What was it about babies, aboutthisbaby, that made her feel so empty inside?
Knowing her actions last night had been foolish and reckless to the extreme, Penelope found some justification for them.
As she’d come of age, she’d devoured all available books on history, politics, philosophy, and anthropology. In doing so, she’d had the epiphany that women of her time were raised and treated as second-class citizens. And if they married, they were at even more of a disadvantage.
She’d only marry if she found true love.
And she thought she had, except that it was unrequited. Roman Spencer, Viscount Darlington and heir to the Earl of Ravensdale, was never going to think of her as anything other than a clever friend.
She adjusted the bundle of warmth so he was upright against her shoulder and rubbed his little bum lovingly.
The last time she’d seen Rome, at Lady Natalie and the Earl of Hawthorne’s wedding breakfast, the love of her life had been attached to another lady. She was a simpering little thing who had obviously just made her come out. Why did men allow themselves to behave so ridiculously when it came to much younger women? And how could she, Penelope, continue to hold him in high regard when he was so easily enthralled by a mere infant?
And Rome had been enthralled. That fact had been painfully, yes,painfullyobvious to Penelope. Rome had never looked atherwith such a tender expression. He’d never been obsessed with watchingheras she’d danced with other eligible gentlemen.
He’d never loved her, and he never would. The epiphany had been staggering.
And so, Penelope extinguished any hope she’d had for a happy marriage and left London the very next morning with just her maid. In her father’s coach, of course, with a driver and two outriders. She wasn’t a fool, after all.
First, they’d gone to Bath where she stayed with some friends of her parents. She took the waters, attended theatrical performances, and shopped to her heart’s content. There was never an abundance of eligible men in Bath. In fact, most of the folks she visited with were well past the age of fifty. She could ignore her single predicament quite easily while surrounded by other spinsters and widows. But after a while, the sheer boredom of it sent her packing.
She’d returned to her parents’ home for the holidays, just long enough to become aggravated with them, and then traveled farther south to be with Lilly for the remainder of her confinement.
Which had been satisfying and enjoyable overall but made her even more aware that she was the last of her set to remain single.
Penelope hadn’t minded when Betsy had married, years ago, and gone on to give birth to half a cricket team. And she’d not minded when Lilly had married nor when Lady Natalie had gotten herself engaged.
But then, even Abigail had gotten herself hitched—and quite happily, too! Abigail was to have been her sole companion through spinsterhood and old age. But now Abigail was married, too—to the Duke of Monfort no less!
Penelope was all alone.
Heartbroken and all alone. She practically snorted at such self-pitying thoughts.
Everything ought to have been all fine and well. But then she’d gone and watched Lilly give birth to this tiny little creature.
And now, after the events of last night, thoughts of Roman Spencer could be put to rest forever. She was going to have to wait for Hugh’s return.
She hated waiting.
Chapter 3
“Told you he wasn’t coming,” Rose, Penelope’s mutinous maid, blurted out after Penelope had sauntered into her bedchamber and thrown herself upon the bed.
After three weeks, Danbury had still failed to return to Summer’s Park. In addition to this unfortunate fact, obtaining information was becoming more and more difficult. Penelope had pestered the Duke of Cortland so often as to the wayward viscount’s whereabouts and health, it was quite possible suspicions were already roused.
She’d never been overly interested in Danbury’s whereabouts in the past, so what cause would she have to do so now? What cause indeed?
“Cortland received a missive from him today. Thank heavens he’d misread his mother’s missive and she is quite well, apparently.” But then she frowned. He bypassed Summer’s Park, however, in order to make quicker time up to Manchester. Oh, Rose, what am I going to do?”
Rose had been dabbing some of Penelope’s new perfume upon her wrists but set it aside at Penelope’s moaning. “Men will be men, the whole world over. Surely, you’ve heard ‘why buy the cow if you can get the milk for free?’ Yougavethe viscount your milk. Poof, he’s gone. Simple as that.”
