“But aren’t pirates usually the ones causing the terrible fates?”
“Not in my story,” Penelope said firmly. “In mine, he’s the misunderstood hero, with a shadowed past and a ship namedThe Tempest’s Kiss.”
Theodosia glanced pointedly at the biscuit in her friend’shand. “I wonder if Mrs. Meng slipped something stronger than sugar into these.”
Mrs. Meng snorted with laughter. “No spirits in the biscuits, I assure you, but perhaps Miss Penelope’s imagination doesn’t need any help.”
Penelope took another bite before saying, “Just admit it—he’s handsome.”
“I will do no such thing,” Theodosia said. “He is arrogant, intolerably rude, and endlessly condescending.”
“He’s a marquess,” Penelope remarked.
“That’s not a character trait,” Theodosia countered, though her lips twitched despite herself.
Brushing the crumbs from her skirt, Penelope turned to her with a teasing gleam in her eyes. “Very well, if you won’t admit it freely, let’s make a game of it.”
Theodosia groaned. “I already don’t like this game.”
Penelope ignored her, pressing forward. “The rules are simple. Say one kind thing about Lord Wilton.”
“Whatever for?”
“Because,” Penelope said sweetly, “I do believe you protest entirely too much.”
Theodosia folded her arms. “This is absurd.”
“It’s character building.”
“I’ve enough character.”
Mrs. Meng spoke up from the hearth. “Let the girl be, Miss Penelope. It’s far too early for teasing.”
“Not when I smell scandal in the air,” Penelope replied with exaggerated drama. “Come on, Dosia. One nice thing. One.”
Theodosia considered for a moment, then replied, “Fine. He is… of adequate height. He is neither too tall nor too short.”
“That’s a start. See? Not so hard.”
Theodosia gave a dramatic sigh. “I fear I may never recover.”
“It wasn’t so painful, was it?” Penelope teased, her grin stretching wide.
“You say that now, but next you’ll have me calling him charming, and if that day comes, I shall have to be examined for a fever. Or perhaps head trauma.”
Penelope leaned back against the wall. “Too late. I daresay we’re already halfway down that slippery slope.”
Theodosia gave her friend a withering look, though a smile tugged stubbornly at the corner of her mouth. “If I ever utter the words ‘Lord Wilton is charming,’ I give you full permission to lock me in the cellar and throw away the key.”
“Duly noted,” Penelope said, raising her biscuit in a toast.
