Penelope ushered them into the drawing room as the housekeeper bustled in with tea and pastries.
Althea sipped tea, distracted with missing Evan and her continuing anger at him.
Penelope and Beth talked about Penelope’s preparations for the bakery and the staff she’d need.
After a few minutes, Penelope turned to bring Althea into the conversation. “Althea, what is happening with your shop?”
Althea explained Evan’s idea, and Charlotte’s willingness to invest.
“Oh!” Penelope bounced in her seat, and Althea had the random thought that Beth was wearing off on her friend. “Lady Peterborough is also funding my bakery. I am so glad she agreed to help you as well. ’Tis almost as though we are keeping it in the family.”
Charlotte’s husband had died two winters ago, leaving his younger brother as the earl. Pen’s closest childhood friend, Sophia, had married the new Earl of Peterborough last year and in the process had reunited with Penelope.
“But…why is Evan not funding it for you?” Pen frowned in confusion.
Althea nearly growled.
“Er…sore subject, I’m afraid, Pen.” Beth interjected, patting Althea’s clenched hands. “There was a bit of a misunderstanding. ’Tis what I referenced in my note about needing a day out.”
“I beg your pardon.” Penelope grimaced at her inadvertent faux pas.
“No, ’tis quite all right.” Althea assured her. “You had no way of knowing. He said he’d help, and I assumed that meant he’d fund it himself. He took offense with that, as he meant he’d introduce me to investors.”
“Evan? Offense?” Penelope tilted her head. “I’ve never seen him upset to even the smallest degree.”
“Yes, well apparently, he thought I was sleeping with him for his money.” Althea gritted her teeth.
“Oh.” Penelope bobbed her head once, the details of Althea’s relationship with Evan, her upset, and the misunderstanding obviously becoming clear. “Poor Evan. I’m sure he was frustrated at what seemed like yet another request for funding. They do seem to never end.”
Althea’s eyes narrowed. From the corner of her eye, she saw Beth’s expression mirror her own.
“Gor, I beg your pardon again.” Penelope hastened to adjust in the face of their glares. “Althea, I know Evan through Michael, so I have heard his complaints. But he had no right to be rude or abandon you there. As I said, ’tis very unlike him.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Althea said stiffly, her spine rigid.
“Oh dear, I’ve really put my foot in it. I do apologize. No matter how strange his behavior was, it was not warranted or acceptable. I am very glad you’ve found Lady Peter—Charlotte, as she insists.”
Althea gave a slight nod, still uncertain of Penelope’s allegiance to Evan.
Penelope turned to Beth and changed the subject with an overly bright tone. “Beth, what have you been doing?”
“At least ’tis no longer a question of who,” Althea interjected, only half under her breath, relieved at the subject change.
Beth shot her an annoyed frown.
Pen’s brows shot up. “Really? Do tell.” She leaned forward, folding her hands in her lap in an eager pose.
“’Tis nothing serious. I’ve been helping Robert.”
“Ford? With his cock?” Pen asked. Then as the other two hooted, she blushed and apologized. “I swear, Beth, you bring out the worst in me. Or rather, the naughty. My apologies. Please continue.”
Althea drifted away from the conversation to wonder why Evan had not funded Penelope’s bakery. Did he have some strict rule about women he knew? Or certain types of businesses? Both hers and Penelope’s would be storefronts, and he’d mentioned he’d invested in more service-based businesses owned by women. She returned to the conversation abruptly when Beth explained Ford’s work.
“He creates leather cuffs, often attached, sometimes in shapes which make for very interesting sexual positions. Some are incredibly adaptable to whatever piece of furniture he wants to put to use. And corsets and cock and bollocks corset thingies and…”
Penelope sat back, gusting out a breath. “I shall say it again. Still waters run deep. Oh my. I am not certain I can ever look at him the same way again.”
Althea was furious. Again, Penelope was putting a friend of her husband’s on some sort of pedestal, while only pseudo-accepting Beth’s wilder nature. Everything she’d learned about the School of Enlightenment, albeit secondhand, countered that.
