Page 11 of One Night with an Earl

“Yes, my lady,” Ana said.

“Hmm. Well, you must be. We will be attending the Royal Academy’s Exhibition, among other events these few weeks, and I expect you to keep my daughter from any hint of scandal.”

Ana obediently nodded. “Of course, my lady.”

“Mama, you dislike the Royal Academy,” Penelope was quick to point out.

“I dislike artists, not the lords and ladies that attend,” her ladyship quipped.

The Royal Academy was one place Ana would love to attend. The artwork was glorious, and she could peruse it at her pleasure while ostensibly watching her charge.

Penelope was forced to try on a flurry of more dresses. The poor girl had to spin on the pedestal on command while raising her arms for the dressmaker to measure and pin each garment beneath Lady Malvern’s critical eye. Just when Penelope was about to drop from exhaustion, Lady Malvern was satisfied, and they were free to leave the dress shop.

Once seated in the carriage, Penelope leaned back on her bench while her mother chatted on and on about the Exhibition. Ana adjusted her prim lace cap to tuck in a few errant curls. She ceased listening to her ladyship to look out the window.

“I have news to share,” Lady Malvern announced, drawing Ana’s attention back to her. “An earl will come calling for you tomorrow. I expect you to be charming, Penelope.”

Penelope’s blue eyes widened, and she sat straighter on the leather bench. “An earl?”

“I’m friends with his lordship’s grandmother. This is your chance, young lady, to charm a suitable bachelor while taking a stroll in Hyde Park.”

“But…but is that appropriate?” Penelope asked.

“Of course. Do not fret, Penelope. A chaperone is not necessary in a crowded park, but nonetheless, I’ve decided that Miss Gardner will accompany you.”

As soon as the carriage stopped before Malvern House in Piccadilly, Penelope fled to her room. If Lady Malvern noticed her daughter’s behavior, she did not comment upon it.

Ana waited fifteen minutes before she softly knocked on her charge’s door.

Penelope’s face sagged in relief to see her. “Thank goodness it’s you and not my mother.” She took Ana’s hand, pulled her inside, then shut her bedroom door. “What am I going to do?”

“Don’t worry, darling. We shall deal with anything that occurs together. Meanwhile, despite my better judgment, I have something that will undoubtedly cheer you.” Ana reached into her skirt pocket and withdrew a letter. “I intercepted the morning post.”

Penelope took the letter, her young face beaming with anticipation like a child who’d been gifted her first pony. “Is it from Lieutenant Smithfield?”

“It is.”

Penelope opened the letter and devoured the words from her sweetheart.

Penelope had confessed her love for the soldier soon after she’d earned Ana’s trust as her chaperone. Timothy Smithfield was the sixth son of a baron, and as such he’d never inherit the title. Worse, his family was in dire need of funds, and it was well known the oldest brother was in search of an heiress. Timothy Smithfield’s only options were the church or the army, and after his family had used connections to purchase a commission for him, he’d been swiftly shipped off. Napoleon was no longer a threat, and it was a promising future.

She clutched the letter to her chest and sighed. “The first time we met, we immediately connected and knew we were meant to be together,” Penelope said. “I was alone at Hachard’s Bookshop, and I could not reach the top shelf. Then Timothy appeared and rather than fetch a wheeled ladder, he bent down and laced his fingers together and lifted me up like I weighed no more than thistledown. For a heartbeat, we were inches apart, and as I gazed up into his eyes, I was lost.”

She collapsed on the bed, an expression of joy and youthful bliss lighting her eyes. “We met multiple times there, and our stolen kisses between the shelves of the leather-bound books were thrilling. He admires my love of books and believes women are as intelligent as men. Can you imagine? My mother believes men dislike well-read women, and I hide my books from her.”

Ana let out her own sigh, not one full of infatuation but concern. Penelope had been secretly corresponding with her beau by sending her letters to the Regimental Office. Lieutenant Smithfield’s letters were processed through the office then delivered to their home. Ana warned her charge to stop writing letters, but to talk a young girl in love out of reckless behavior was like lecturing the ceiling.

Ana sat beside her on the bed. “You must cease the letters, Penelope.”

Penelope sat upright. “I cannot.”

“Then you must be careful. The letters are scandalous and, if found, could cause your ruin. Worse, if Lady Malvern discovered—”

Penelope’s eyes were imploring. “Please don’t tell Mother.”

Ana rubbed her right temple. “I won’t. But be careful. If I hadn’t plucked that letter out of the morning post, who would have?”

“I promise to be careful.”