“Honestly, Mercy, do you never look at the birds around you?” Penelope’s smile was dangerously close to a laugh. How was she supposed to know the little bird was only a finch? She hadn’t had a good look at it in the garden, and she had just passed a bird enclosure. Was it her fault that her mind had been stuck on exotic species? “How is the little patient doing?”
Mercy had brought the little bird home and was feeding and caring for it in the back garden. Apparently the Zoological Society didn’t care for common finches. “He seems to be doing well. Time will tell, I suppose.”
“I’m sure with your supervision he will recover. Now, tell me what happened when the two of you were alone. The duke came back looking a bit disheveled.” Penelope had a look in her eye like she was ready to pounce on whatever delicious information Mercy was about to give her.
Rather than answer, Mercy poured tea, her hands much steadier than her heart. “He looked a lot worse than that when I first saw him. He’d mostly put himself back together by the time we returned.” There was a moment of silence. Mercy didn’t look up to see the expression on Penelope’s face. Penelope was a romantic at heart, just as Mercy was. No doubt she saw nobetter ending to this whole charade than for Mercy and the Duke of Harrington to fall helplessly in love. “I did hear Miss Morgan laughing with him just before he found me, though.”
“Oh,” Penelope replied, and Mercy didn’t have to see her face to know she was disappointed.
They both sipped their tea, and for the first time since she’d met Penelope, the woman remained silent. In between sips, Penelope would perk up like she was about to say something, and then stop. Finally, on her third try, she managed to string together a few words. “It is just that I had thought—”
“I know exactly what you thought, and you were wrong. Or rather, you were correct about what happened, only incorrect about with whom it happened.” Why did her tea taste wrong? She stirred in another clump of sugar to counteract the bitterness.
“But—” Penelope shook her head. “Well, that simply ruins everything. I had such interesting news to bring you about your duke.”
“He isn’t my duke.”
Penelope narrowed one eye at her as if to say,He could be, and we both know it.But she was wrong. Oh, Mercy could marry him—she had no doubt about that. But he would never fully be hers. She may have even been able to resign herself to the fact that he was not a passionate person, although that would have been painful. But to know he could ardently pursue another woman, and he simply did not show any signs of attraction to her?
It would be purgatory.
“Yolty knows him a little. And, well... if I knew something wonderful about the Duke of Harrington, would you want to hear it?”
Mercy clenched her jaw, and then relaxed it. It wasn’t Penelope’s fault that the man would happily take advantage of a few moments alone with Miss Morgan, but when he had thesame opportunity with Mercy, he kept her at arm’s length. “Is it that he is dying to wrap me in his arms, and he has no interest in any other woman?”
“No.”
“Then, no. I don’t suppose I do.”
“But—”
“He has always been one of the most wonderful men in London. Everyone has told me that since the moment I caught his eye. But he isn’t drawn to me for any other reason than the fact that he feels we are suitable. You and I both know that.”
“Are you completely certain that is the only thing he likes about you?”
Mercy sighed heavily. She probably shouldn’t mention it, as Penelope was bound to jump to conclusions, but at the same time, Harrington’s compliment still burned when she thought of it, and she wanted to share its heat. “He may also like my freckles. But again, hardly a reason to get married.”
Penelope bolted straight up. “Well, that’s something, isn’t it?”
“It is something that holds no bearing at all.”
“Oh, Mercy. You don’t know the first thing about love. I probably could have given up Yolty if it weren’t for the cowlick in the middle of the back of his head. I’d resign myself to a life lived without him, and then I’d see that clump of hair that just wouldn’t behave, and I knew I would never actually be able to be happy with anyone else.”
“Really? Was that before or after your affair with Lord Bryant?”
“That cowlick was what caused my affair with Lord Bryant.”
“Does he have a cowlick?”
“Not even close. His hair always lays perfectly. Someday I’ll tell you all about my relationship with Lord Bryant.”
“I’d really rather you didn’t.”
Penelope snorted and then raised both of her eyebrows. “I promise you, you would rather I did. Are you certain I can’t talkyou into bewitching the man who wants to marry you?”
“Of course I’m certain. It shouldn’t be that much work, especially when he seems quite easily bewitched by other women.”
Penelope looked as though she might argue, but instead, she sighed. “How is Bridget settling in?”
