Her mother was fine with plain speaking? Well, so be it.
“I’ve only just arrived!”
“I know.”
Her mother stood up and examined herself in the looking glass. “Child birth is a rather messy affair.” She sniffed. “I’d not intended upon staying very long anyhow. I only did it for you. I rather felt it was my duty to address the wrongs the two of you did, and, of course, to offer my felicitations.”
“Of course.”
Meeting Penelope’s eyes in the mirror, her mother narrowed her own. “Give me your word you’ll bring in the physician and I’ll go. Promise me, now, Penelope.” Her mother almost looked relieved to not have to stay so far away from London. It was the little season, after all.
“I promise.”
Her mother paused just a few seconds before nodding. “Very well. Perhaps I’ll make a visit to Lady Fredericks in Plymouth first.” She then kissed Penelope dutifully upon the cheek, smoothed a non-existent wrinkle from her dress, and closed the door firmly behind her.
Rose was all astonishment. “If only you’d told her that yesterday.”
Penelope surprised herself by chuckling softly. Ah, if only…
So now, she truly was alone but for Rose. If only Abigail were here. Perhaps, if Hugh did not return within a day or two, she could write to her cousin. Abigail had been through childbirth twice now and would know what to expect. Abigail had also given birth to twins.
She would not wait to write. Abigail had delivered an heir for her husband just three months ago. She’d written that all had gone perfectly and the baby was absolutely beautiful.
Would the duke object to his wife visiting her cousin so soon? It was hard to know. He’d always been such a cold man, although he had warmed considerably since his marriage.
Yes, Penelope would write to Abigail.
Chapter 26
Leaving Morrow Point, no, leaving Penelope, was more difficult than he’d imagined it would be. As he’d ridden down the long drive away from his home, he had to fight the overwhelming urge to turn right back around and make amends with his wife.
But his original reason for leaving would still be there: A pregnant wife, large with two babies that were not his.
It frustrated him to no end that she’d persisted in maintaining his paternity. It would be convenient, if he could only convince himself and go forward believing such a blatant falsehood.
But he could not.
Could he even believe that there were two children instead of one? Was that claim another falsehood in an attempt to make up for the fact that she was already so very far along in her pregnancy? It would most certainly be convenient for the midwife to announce to him that one of the children was stillborn, and then conveniently dispose of the child’s body, in an effort to cover up the lie.
Hugh had turned the horse onto the road heading east most purposefully.
And then she’d gone and told him that she loved him!
He’d nearly bought into that as well.
She’d looked so forlorn and desperate.
There had been moments, when they’d been making love, when he’d nearly declared the sentiment himself. But he’d always held back.
How could he allow himself to love a woman he did not trust?
He rode onward firmly.
He’d told her the truth when he’d said he’d never found greater pleasure with any other woman. The irony!
If only he could find such satisfaction with her character as he did with her body and her mind. That, of course, was asking far too much from the great almighty.
By the time he was well into his third day of travel he convinced himself that he’d done the right thing. Perhaps, when he returned, when she no longer was the walking evidence of her treachery, he could reconcile himself to what she’d done, to who she was.
