Page 77 of One Night with an Earl

Pain crossed Penelope’s face. “I know you’re right. Will you accompany me? Please, Ana.”

Ana opened her mouth then closed it. She shook her head once more. “I would be the world’s worst chaperone.”

“You are not just a chaperone. You are my friend.”

“Then as your friend, I still discourage it. Your mother would—”

Penelope lifted her chin. “My mother will never know. And if you do not accompany me, then I shall go my own.”

No matter how foolish, Ana recognized stubbornness when she saw it. The girl was in love, and youthful infatuation could be more reckless, more dangerous, than a loaded canon.

And the truth was, how could Ana chastise the girl when not long ago she’d slipped into a scarlet gown and spent the night with a stranger in a notorious brothel?

“Please, Ana.” Penelope lowered her voice, her eyes pleading.

The girl must have sensed the warring conflict within Ana. The soft afternoon sunlight from the open curtains highlighted Penelope’s blonde hair and fair complexion. She looked incredibly young and naive, and Ana’s chest tightened. She also knew Penelope would go with or without her. They’d come this far together. How could she refuse her now?

“You must promise to follow my instruction. Go fetch your reticule.”

…

After leaving the Duke of Warwick, Oliver took the steps to his grandmother’s home two at a time and lifted the brass knocker. Her butler opened the door before he could rap a third time.

“Good day, Greaves. Is my grandmother awake?”

The butler took Oliver’s hat and greatcoat. “She is anxious to see you upon your return from the country.”

Something about the butler’s tone took him off guard. “Is she well?”

“Better. Right this way, my lord. She has been expecting you.”

Greaves led Oliver into his grandmother’s private sitting room. He helped himself to a glass of sherry from the sideboard and looked outside the window at the street below. Sipping the sherry, he glanced at the door and counted the minutes until her arrival.

The dowager sailed into the room. She was well turned out in a walking dress of green satin trimmed with gold braid and tight sleeves. Her hair was swept up high in a stylish fashion, and she wore a pearl necklace with matching pearl earbobs. She looked robust and healthy, clearly recovered from her cold. “Tell me you made progress with Lady Penelope.”

Oliver was careful to school his expression. His worry over her health was for naught. As for her question, he’d anticipated something of an inquisition and was prepared. “It was brief. The lady was ill for part of the visit.”

“Ill?”

“She stayed in her chamber for two full days. Otherwise, I do believe the Malverns enjoyed Rosedown.”

Her lips pursed in an obvious show of displeasure. “I should have attended, cold or not.”

“I assure you, it would not have changed anything.”

“You do not like the girl?”

He finished the sherry in one swallow. How much to reveal? “That’s not what I meant.”

She walked forward and took the empty tumbler from his hand and set it on an end table. “Don’t be daft. I can tell when you are smitten.”

He shot her an amused look. “Smitten? When have I ever been smitten?”

Her eyebrows drew downward. “I was convinced you felt something for the girl before your departure to the country.”

“Based on what?”

“You acted differently. Lighthearted. I’m accustomed to seeing you with a solemn expression while you sit behind that godforsaken desk in your study for hours on end.”