He and Penelope had not used it very often, choosing instead to dine informally together. The deep solemn chime reminded him of his mother. What would she have said to the baroness this afternoon? Would Hugh have told his mother the truth of his and Penelope’s marriage?
Most likely not.
Most likely, she would have chided him much the same, only in a more loving and less shrill manner.
In fact, upon consideration, he remembered that his mother and the baroness had been more than acquaintances. But, of course, both were titled members of theton, of similar age. He wondered if the baroness mourned his mother. She’d arrived quite flamboyantly, dressed in vibrant reds and oranges. She’d most likely slept in a nearby inn the previous night so as not to arrive at Morrow Point wrinkled from a long day of travel.
Rose was just entering Penelope’s suite. She grimaced when she saw him.
“Rose,” he said. “Is she all right? Her mother was… not very agreeable when she arrived.”
The maid seemed to contemplate her answer carefully. “My lady was more worried for you. She knows the subject is a sore one.”
Surely, Rose knew the truth of all of it. Would the maid tell him more than Penelope had?
As soon as the thought registered in his mind, he dismissed it. It would be unfair to seek answers from the person Penelope most likely trusted more than anyone else in the world.
He wished it would ever be like that between the two of them but did not have much hope. “Her health is what matters most right now. Is she well enough for dinner?”
“I suggested having dinner brought up to her this evening, but she is determined to protect you from her mother.”
Hugh smiled. “I will dine with her mother. If she is sleeping, do not awaken her.”
“She won’t be happy with me.”
There were times when he simply must be master. “As it may be.” He turned on his heel and entered his own chamber quietly. Damnation and bollocks, he realized, he was to dine with the baroness alone.
Chapter 25
For most of their marriage, Hugh had slept through the night in his wife’s bed. On the first night of her mother’s arrival, however, he did not come. And Rose, drat that girl, had not awakened her so that she could go down for dinner. It was nearly midnight before Penelope opened her eyes, confused at the darkness, and realized what she’d missed.
Angry as she was, she grudgingly admitted to herself that the sleep had been well needed. Unfortunately, now that she was well rested, everyone else was already abed. But it felt wrong. It felt wrong not knowing where her husband was.
He’d joined her, many a night, after she’d already taken to bed, and awakened her to make love. He would lay behind her and skim his hands along her body until she was ready for him to…
But where was he now? She’d not ventured into his room before. She’d never had the need. Ought she to? Had he merely refrained from coming to her because he was concerned for her wellbeing?
Penelope chewed her bottom lip, contemplating what to do. He was irritated with her. Her mother had unearthed their buried issues and thrown them into Hugh’s face. Penelope paced about her room for several minutes before coming to a decision.
Without knocking, she pushed open the adjoining door between their two chambers. It squeaked loudly as she did so. How had Hugh entered her room those nights before without awakening her?
Emboldened by the quiet, she tiptoed over to his bed and…
He was not there.
Where had he gone? He must be in his study. She returned to her room, donned a dressing gown and then padded barefoot downstairs ever so quietly. Good Heavens, she had no wish to awaken her mother.
A hint of light peeked through the door, and sure enough, Hugh sat in the large winged-back chair cradling a glass of scotch.
Ah, the irony.
“Hugh,” she spoke softly. “I’m sorry I missed supper.”
He glanced up but didn’t smile. He did not look to be fuming over an evening spent with her mother, though. He looked rather pensive, instead. He shrugged away her apology. “I told Rose not to wake you. It’s important you don’t overtire.”
She tiptoed toward him. If he were in a different mood, she would feel comfortable perching herself upon his lap. It was an intimate setting and they most certainly would not be interrupted at this hour. Instead, she opted for the settee. She pulled her feet up off of the floor and tucked them under her gown. “You did not kill her, did you?”
He raised his brows. “I refrained.”
