Even from a distance, she could see the towering gold monstrosity. It stood some twelve feet high, frothing forth champagne tinted what (she guessed) was supposed to be a jolly, seasonal shade, but there was no denying what it actually looked like: blood. To Penny, the thing was as grotesque as it was impractical. Every now and again, a cry erupted from some unsuspecting guest when the fountain belched and doused them with a gory spray of red.
As Penny and Marcus approached their hostess in the receiving line, however, her eyes narrowed. Whatever one could say about Cora Ashley’s party throwing skills, she clearly had a masterful eye when it came to fashion. The demure, ruffled white creation looked simple but must have cost a pretty penny, the skirts floating elegantly around her slender figure. With her pale blond hair and blue eyes, she looked every inch an angel.
In comparison, Penny had chosen a bold gown of crimson velvet that clung lovingly to her curves. Her ruby necklace was her main accessory, and she wore it with pride as she faced her nemesis.
“How good of you both to come,” Cora said in a breathy voice, her eyes fixed on Marcus.
“Thank you, my lady. Lord Ashley.” Marcus inclined his head politely at their host and hostess, his face expressionless. “My wife didn’t want to miss it.”
The Earl of Ashley, a short, balding fellow who smelled as if he’d bathed in brandy, gave them an indifferent greeting and continued flirting with a young matron. His bloodshot eyes glued to her low-cut décolletage, he waddled off with her, abandoning his receiving duties altogether.
“Heavens!” Cora gave a little shriek.
The pressure in Penny’s veins shot up as the blonde threw herself against Marcus’ chest.
“A spider,” Cora gasped. “It just ran over my slipper.”
With clear distaste, Marcus set her aside. “I don’t see a spider.”
“If there’s an insect lurking about,” Penny said, her jaw clenching, “I’ll gladly squash it.”
Patting her skirts into place, Cora recovered herself and aimed a saccharine smile at Penny. “Oh, but I wouldn’t want you to ruin your slipper, my dear Lady Blackwood. Or your striking ensemble. May I mention how very festive you look?” The subtle emphasis on the wordfestiveimplied a far less flattering adjective. “I couldn’t pull off such a gown, and I daresay not many ladies could.”
“Well, I couldn’t pull off yours,” Penny said, just as sweetly. “White is such a virtuous shade. I fear it makes one’s true colors shine through.”
Splotches formed on Cora’s cheeks.
Marcus’ arm tightened around Penny’s waist. “Come, darling, let’s not hold up the line. I’ll get you some champagne.”
He dragged her away.
“I wasn’t finished,” Penny said under her breath.
“You’re finished.”
“She had thegallto insult my dress—you heard that, didn’t you?”
“I heard it.”
“And there was no bleeding spider,” Penny fumed.
“I know.” His jaw tautened, and he turned a brooding gaze to her. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize what her true character was before. And even sorrier to put you through this.”
She tipped her head to one side. Grinned as the realization hit her. “Are you admitting that you were wrong about Cora Ashley and I was right?”
“Yes.” He sounded disgruntled.
“Well, then. Maybe coming tonight was worth it after all.”
A reluctant smile tugged on his lips. “You’re incorrigible, do you know that?”
“You love it about me,” she said confidently.
“Since I love everything about you, you have the right of it yet again. On that note, since we are here for the duration, would you care to dance?”
“I would.” She gave him a cheeky look. “And while we waltz, you may continue to whisper sweet nothings in my ear of how I’malwaysright.”
He laughed. “Anything you want, my Penny. Anything you want.”
