Penelope’s hand dove to her tea, and she took a quick sip, a mite too fast for how hot it still was. After blowing through her lips for a moment, she set down her cup. “I suppose we could try to give him a chance with her. Make him face her so he can decide.” She tipped her head from side to side, considering. “It isn’t as though we would be harming anyone, and sometimes love does need a bit of a push.”
“Yes.” Mercy couldn’t believe Penelope was actually startingto believe her idea had merit. “Then I will approach him about releasing him from the courtship. I’m certain, if given a chance, he will make the choice that was robbed of him when he was younger. He just needs to be taken away from Society and its prying eyes to see what he wants.”
Penelope tipped her head to one side. “So you want to get him alone with Lady Plymton. How will we manage that?”
“He made it quite clear that he managed it plenty when he was pursuing her.”
“Yes, but he isn’t pursuinghernow. He is pursuingyou.”
Mercy waved her hand. “A minor detail.”
Penelope pushed her lips to one side. “One of us will have to become acquainted with Lady Plymton.”
“It might be strange if it were me.” Meeting an old flame of the duke would be not only awkward, it might give away what she was trying to do.
“I could do it.” Penelope shrugged. “I don’t mind meeting new people.” She didn’t. Penelope was one of the most unassuming people she had ever met. Mercy could hold conversations, but Lady Yolten could steer them like she was a naval captain. “Step one, get an introduction to Lady Plymton. Step two, create a situation where the two of them can be alone together.”
“For now, let’s concentrate on step one.”
Penelope nodded and returned to her tea. Mercy rested her back against her chair and sighed. With any luck, she would be free of the Duke of Harrington and the enormous pressure this courtship had put on her. She could go back to dancing and enjoying life until a man she couldn’t live without came along.
There was a soft knock at the door, and a footman entered. “A Mrs. and Miss Morgan to see you, Lady Mercy.”
Morgan? Mercy glanced at Penelope and raised her eyebrows, but Penelope shook her head. Mercy had been introduced to a Morgan family the previous year, but other than their shortintroduction, they’d had no further interaction.
“Could you let Mama know they are here and send them in?” Mama must be more acquainted with the Morgan women than Mercy was. Otherwise, this would be a strange morning call, indeed.
The footman nodded and returned a moment later with the two women. It was the Morgans she had met, although she only vaguely remembered them. What were they doing here? Mercy was never one to stand on tradition, but when others didn’t follow it, she was taken by surprise.
“Mrs. Morgan, Miss Morgan. My mother will be here shortly. She is still resting after the festivities last night. Have you met Lady Yolten?”
Mrs. Morgan’s eyebrows rose slightly at the mention of Penelope’s title. “We have not but would be very pleased to be introduced.”
Mercy managed the introductions, though it was a task she was seldom required to do. Mercy motioned to the two chairs not in use at the tea table. “Won’t you join us? Mrs. Brooksby will bring more tea things.”
Mrs. Morgan took her seat with force while her daughter shuffled shyly to the seat next to her. She only made eye contact a few times before quickly looking away. She was either painfully shy or mortified by the questionable propriety of their visit.
No one spoke. Mercy should be the one keeping the conversation civil, but her mind went blank. Why couldn’t she think of a simply social nicety when she needed one? Penelope picked up her small gold spoon and stirred her tea, the metal scraping the sides of her cup as if she were purposely trying to break the silence. She probably was.
Mercy cleared her throat. “Are you and my mother well acquainted?”
“Lady Driarwood? No, not particularly well. Although, wewould like to remedy that, wouldn’t we?” Mrs. Morgan looked to her daughter.
Miss Morgan glanced down at her hands. “Yes, Mama,” she said quietly.
Mercy’s heart immediately went out to the girl. For some reason, her mother had dragged her here, and her discomfort couldn’t be more obvious.
Mrs. Brooksby arrived with a tea tray and set a cup and saucer in front of each of their new guests. Mercy reached for the teapot, poured Mrs. Morgan a cup, and turned to Miss Morgan. She waved a hand above her cup. “No, thank you.”
Mrs. Morgan scoffed. “Oh, have some tea. It will settle your nerves.”
Miss Morgan shook her head. “No, thank you. But...” Her big doe eyes looked up at Mercy. “If you don’t mind, I may sit in front of the window for a bit. I think the cool air coming through the glass may help me settle.”
“Of course,” Mercy said. She had never seen anyone be quite so uneasy in her home. Then again, most people did not come uninvited, unless they were very close friends or family. Miss Morgan gave her a shaky smile, then stood quickly and dashed off to the window.
“Don’t mind my daughter. She has had a rough go these past few years, and she has become quite sensitive.”
Penelope coughed, and Mercy caught her meaning. Anyone might be sensitive with a mother as graceless as Mrs. Morgan.
