Page 43 of One Night with an Earl

Still, reason prevailed. “The risks are too high.”

Madame Crescent’s lips curved in a smile. “I have been in this business long enough to understand the rules of propriety only apply in the daylight. In other words, if you are not seen, no one will be the wiser.”

Chapter Fifteen

“I am pleased you could join us this afternoon. I had hoped you would not have any other social calls,” the Dowager said as she greeted the group of ladies in the vestibule.

“We were looking forward to joining you, weren’t we, Penelope?” Lady Malvern turned to her daughter.

Penelope’s smile was bright. “Oh, yes, my lady. Your home is lovely.”

Ana shifted behind her charge. She knew why Penelope was in a good mood. Penelope hoped Lord Drake would grace the ladies with his presence during his grandmother’s gathering, but not for the reason her mother or the dowager believed.

Ana adjusted her lace cap to ensure it covered all of her hair. She’d taken extra precautions and worn her most uncomely gown, a dishwater brown. She’d been worried the dowager would recognize her from a decade ago, but her fears ebbed when the elderly woman looked right past her and focused on Penelope. Of course.

A butler led them to an elegant drawing room where three other ladies waited. Ana recognized Lady Stevenson, Lady Oslow, and Lady Thorn, all influential society patronesses. During their carriage ride, Lady Malvern had explained the group faithfully gathered each month to work on their needlepoint and to gossip.

Since Penelope hated needlepoint and lacked the patience to sit with a needle and thread, Ana knew the true reason they’d been invited. Both Lady Malvern and the dowager anticipated a match between Penelope and Lord Drake. The independent dowager lived in her own London residence and not with her grandson, but she had mentioned to Penelope’s mother that his lordship may pay a visit.

The door opened, and a maid wheeled in a tea tray and freshly baked scones. “Have a scone and remember to smile,” Penelope said, leaning close and whispering into Ana’s ear.

Ana feigned a smile at Lady Stevenson, then lowered her voice to answer Penelope. “You do realize you are encouraging your mother by letting her believe you have romantic feelings for the earl.”

Penelope picked up a teacup and saucer. “Posh! I already told you that it will help me delay her matchmaking efforts with some other eligible bachelor. Meanwhile, I wrote Lieutenant Smithfield another letter.”

Ana glared. “Penelope, I told you not to,” she hissed beneath her breath.

“I know but it’s too late. I sent it to the Regimental Office yesterday. I’m only telling you so that you feel free to engage his lordship.”

Ana struggled to remain calm. She regretted ever aiding Penelope’s infatuation with her young soldier in any way. Perhaps she should tell her mother.

No! That would be a terrible idea for both herself and Penelope. She’d lose her position and Penelope…poor Penelope.

Ana would have to be extra cautious around her employer. Sometimes it seemed as if Lady Malvern had eyes behind her head, and Ana feared Penelope, in anger or pent-up frustration, would slip up. If she discovered the girl’s infatuation, her ladyship would lock Penelope in her room. Ana loved Penelope and didn’t want to crush the girl’s spirit or cause her undue harm. It was all terribly unfair.

Ana added two lumps of sugar to her tea, sipped the brew, then nibbled on a scone. She adored scones, and the cook in the dowager’s household was exceptionally skilled, but Ana barely tasted it.

She felt like a boiler ready to explode. Trapped between Penelope and the ladies in the room, she wanted nothing more than to escape. She understood why her nerves were tense. When would Oliver arrive?

She scanned the drawing room. It was tastefully decorated in pearwood furnishings, yellow-and-blue striped settee, matching chairs, and fabulous artwork. She would never take such wealth and privilege for granted.

Lady Oslow clapped her hands. “I have wonderful news. My granddaughter is betrothed to Lord Stapleton.”

“Wonderful news indeed.” The dowager set her teacup on her saucer with a chink.

“The reading of the banns is to immediately follow, but I thought to share with you all first,” Lady Oslow said.

“The Season is coming along. My nephew has a tendre for one of the debutantes,” Lady Thorn said. “I find it terribly romantic.”

Lady Malvern, not to be outdone, turned to her daughter. “I have hopes for my Penelope.”

Penelope choked on a bite of scone and reached for her tea. Her mother shot her a disapproving glance.

“Are you enjoying your first season, my dear?” the dowager asked Penelope.

Penelope’s cheeks turned a charming shade of pink. “It is turning out quite unexpectedly, my lady.”

“Ah,” the dowager sighed. “I recall my first ball, long ago. I was full of anticipation and excitement.”