Penelope glared at her maid and sat forward on the bed. “But that’s the problem. I don’t think he has any memory oftakingthe milk! Danbury is not only a gentleman but an honorable one! He’s a scoundrel, I’ll give you that, but I refuse to believe he would have abandoned me like this had he remembered our… evening of… physical joining. Good Heavens, Rose, he was too bosky to remember anything. I ought to have taken this into consideration.”
Rose reached for some lip rouge and dabbed some on herself. “Either way, Penelope, you’re in an awful pinch.”
Penelope barely kept from moaning out loud again. She was now officially six days late. And even more worrisome was the biliousness she’d begun feeling in the mornings. She pondered her situation rationally. Nothing was going to be achieved by staying at Summer’s Park with Lilly and Cortland. As adorable as the baby was and as delightful a friend as Lilly was, Penelope would go mad if she didn’t track Danbury down soon. Watching the two lovebirds crooning over their tiny marquess was becoming trying as well. Not that she didn’t love them all, but really! Enough was enough.
And then Rose pulled a small pouch from her waistband. “In case you have need, I had Peters take me three villages over and met with the apothecary there.”
As recognition of what Rose was saying hit her, Penelope swallowed hard. She knew exactly what the small pouch contained. “Pennyroyal?”
Rose nodded. “I figured that in case he refuses you or does not believe you, you need to have a backup plan.”
Penelope was already shaking her head. She did not judge women who turned to such a drastic action when necessary but now, knowing a child grew inside of her, the love for that life was greater than the fear for her situation. “I won’t be needing it, Rose.” But she was not angry with her maid.
Penelope had first educated her maid as to the concept itself. Over the years, Penelope had been slowly, in secret, collecting the tomes of Mary Wollstonecraft. And she’d shared them with Rose. They’d largely influenced Penelope’s own assertions that marriage was a Bastille-like institution, that a woman ought to have the choice as to whether she was willing to sacrifice her body, and possibly her very life, in order to become a mother.
She’d known of more than one perfectly healthy lady who had died in childbirth. It was part of why she’d come to assist Lilly.
But suddenly, none of that mattered. The image of Lilly’s little marquess jumped into Penelope’s mind. She wanted this child. She would find Hugh, and all would be well.
“Put that away,” she said more forcefully. Rose nodded and tucked it back into her skirt. “And take a care with it. It’s poison. Please, Rose, I don’t want it anywhere near my belongings.”
“I’m not going to throw it out, but I’ll put it in a safe place.” Rose tilted her head back proudly. She did not really appreciate being scolded in any way. Ever.
“We’ll have to travel up to Manchester,” Penelope informed Rose.
Rose studied her skeptically. “Are you up to it? I’ve noticed you’ve been a trifle green in the mornings.”
This time, Penelope did moan. She also threw herself face down on the bed. “I’ll have to be, Rose. Good God, do you realize what will happen if anyone discovers what I’ve done? My parents will go into an apoplexy. I could never show my face in London again. Not that that’s such a horrible thing to contemplate, but I do appreciate the shopping and the theatre occasionally. And most of my friends are members of theton! How many of them would continue to acknowledge me?”
“You should have married that one gent, your second year out. What was his name?”
“You mean Betsy’s brother? Miles Harris?” Penelope was all astonishment.
“Yes. I will remind you that I told you then that you would be the one in control of everything in such a marriage. You would hold the purse strings. You would decide when and how many children would come along. Lord Harris would give you free rein. But did you listen to me?”
“You do remember, on occasion, anyhow, thatyou are my maid, don’t you?” This argument had begun over a decade ago and would continue far into the future. But Penelope would never give Rose up. They’d been friends as children, and when Rose’s father had threatened to send his only daughter away, Penelope had convinced her parents to hire Rose on as her maid. Both girls had barely reached the ages of ten and six at the time, but the Crones had found the situation tolerable.
And so, Rose had gone from being friend, confidante, and playmate to being Penelope’s lady’s maid overnight.
Rose really didn’t always have the temperament of a maid, but that did not matter to Penelope. Most of the time.
“Miles Harris is a milksop. Was back then and continues to be so today.” Penelope remembered the last time she’d seen him, at Lady Natalie’s wedding breakfast. Miles had lost a great deal of hair and gained a great deal of weight. He was, as of yet, unmarried.
“You might keep him in mind if the viscount continues to be elusive.”
At Rose’s words, Penelope shuddered. But she had a point. “No, we’ve got to track down Danbury. And he’s going to have to marry me right off.” And then a wave of nausea washed over her. Oh, Lord! What had she done?
* * *
Hugh’s mother was well, except for a mild cough. And although the impromptu journey had caused him to fall even farther behind in his responsibilities, Hugh was relieved to see his mother’s good health in person. She’d had a touch of fever the previous week, and she corrected Hugh’s interpretation of her chicken scrawls easy enough. She’d meant to have writtendarned fever.
“It was plain as day,” she’d told him.
Ah, well. With his mind at ease, he’d stayed just a few days and then turned back from where he’d come. Rainy weather and a lame horse had delayed their travels, but at last they were nearing Hugh’s northernmost estate.
As he and Dicky rode the last few miles into Manchester, the strangest thought persisted in nagging at his conscience.
Before leaving Summer’s Park, he’d had that incredibly vivid dream about Penelope Crone. Surely, it had been a dream. He’d drank too much of Cortland’s liquor and passed out in the study. And when he’d awakened, he’d been fully clothed and bundled up in a blanket.
