Penelope merely nodded.
She felt tired, angry, and hurt. She could only imagine what damage her mother could do before her visit was over.
She gave her mother plenty of time to get settled into her chamber before climbing the stairs to her own. Her back hurt, and her feet ached. When she came into the room, though, Rose was ready for her. Rose had known her mother for nearly as long as Penelope had. She labored under no misapprehension as to what the afternoon had been like for Penelope.
Penelope collapsed on a chair, and Rose immediately assisted her in removing her boots. This pregnancy had brought out a nurturing side in Rose that Penelope had not realized was there. Kneeling down, Rose began massaging Penelope’s feet, ankles, and calves.
“Was it so very bad?”
Penelope gave her a look.
“Forget I asked. Of course, it was.”
But Penelope felt near tears. “She was horrible to him.” Rose’s thumbs slid along the arch of Penelope’s aching foot. “She berated him for compromising me and then avoiding the repercussions. He got that look, you know, the one I always tell you about. Only this time, it was Mama, and not me, and she just kept going and going and going…”
“You need some rest,” Rose announced. She pulled Penelope to her feet and assisted her out of her dress and into a night rail. “There is plenty of time for a nap before dinner. And if necessary, we shall have your meal brought up here.”
“I can’t do that, Rose, that would leave Hugh alone with my mother.”
“He’s a grown man. He can handle it.”
Penelope climbed into the bed and Rose pulled up the covers. “I’ll be fine afterward. Wake me when the dinner gong sounds if I’m not already up. I cannot leave Hugh to deal with Mama alone.”
Rose pursed her lips but nodded. She closed the drapes and then poured a tumbler of water to sit beside the bed.
“Thank you, Rose,” Penelope mumbled.
Rose smiled weakly. “Not to worry, Pen.” She then backed out of the room and pulled the door closed, leaving Penelope alone with her thoughts.
Penelope wondered if Hugh thought she was very much like her mother. Oh, she hoped not. Besides, Hugh was not like her father, really, was he? Of course not. Hugh would not be run over by a managing woman as her father had been for most of his life. He’d not let her manage him, not really. Had he? And on that thought, she drifted off.
* * *
Hugh was tempted to stay away for the evening. It would have been the height of rudeness. He was his mother’s son, however, and on such small matters as this, he would not let Penelope down.
But that woman!
After about a quarter of an hour in her company, he’d had to mentally focus on anything else in the room but the words spewing from her mouth. No wonder Penelope had spent so much time gallivanting about England away from her parents.
Being berated for something he’d taken no part in had galled in the extreme. For the first part, he had not compromised Penelope into such a predicament and for the second part, he was making atonement for something another man had done! He was the victim in all of this.
Perhaps victim was a stronger word than necessary, but he most certainly was not the villain that the baroness had decided to paint him.
He would not absent himself from the evening meal.
When he returned to the house, for the most part, things were quiet. He knew the staff was preparing a formal meal, but Penelope was nowhere to be found. She must be in her room resting.
He hoped that was where she was, anyhow.
A pang of guilt niggled at him when he remembered how he’d left her in the salon earlier. He’d known she’d been tired when they returned from church. He’d seen it in her eyes as she’d thanked the vicar and then been trapped by a few of the local meddling elderly ladies. He’d rescued her then, steering her away with some vague excuse.
And when they’d climbed into the barouche, he noticed that she was rubbing her back again. She did more and more of that lately. Surely, she did not have a long wait before the babies would be born.
And again, the frustration arose inside of him, for these children would be born just a few months after he’d first lain with his wife.
As always, he tried to subdue his anger over this. He tried to reconcile the reality of the situation within himself, but the irritations arose again and again.
As he ascended the stairs to his chamber, the dinner gong rang out.
