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Lady Clara,
Join me at dawn at the Blue Dolphin. We must speak.
Though there was no signature, Penelope knew all too well who the letter was from. The Comte had summoned her.But I have nothing for him!she realised.
It couldn’t be a coincidence that he had summoned her on the very day that the duke returned; whatever he wanted, it had something to do with Anthony's return, perhaps even something to do with his sudden change towards her. All Penelope could do was pray and wait until morning when she might finally get some answers.
It was remarkably easy to slip out the next morning. Having barely slept, Penelope was awake well before dawn and well before the servants. Dressing in her plainest, silken brown day dress, she added a similar coloured cloak and slipped out through the servants’ quarters, slightly relieved that the duke hadn't come to her bed the night before. Had he done, she would have found it twice as difficult to slip away.
Yet as things stood, she snuck from the manor with the hood of her cloak raised, pulled down to keep her face shadowed as she hurried down the lane towards the village and the Dolphin Inn. To know that the Comte was staying quite so close to the manor left Penelope feeling even more uneasy than before, and she was sure that no matter what happened that morning, she would relieved when all finally came to an end.
Embarrassingly, she recognised the manservant who instructed her to follow him the moment she entered the inn. It was still quite early, and it appeared that not even the landlord or the inn workers had risen yet.
She thought perhaps she heard someone sweeping down the hall but the manservant quickly led her upstairs, and no one noticed them. With every step she took, she felt as though she were digging her grave deeper and deeper.
The man stopped at a door and leaned over to push it open, gesturing her inside. The moment she entered, finding herself entirely alone save for the Comte, sitting in an armchair beside the roaring fireplace, she couldn't help thinking that maybe she ought to have brought Holden with her.
Then she reminded herself she was not truly a lady, and she had no need of a lady's maid to chaperone her. Everything she was doing was already highly scandalous, this would not change anything, and even if Holden had been with her, she would have still felt terrified. Worse, she would have been ashamed and embarrassed also.
The room was dark save for the blazing fireplace, damp with a mixture of mildew and smouldering firewood. The atmosphere in the room, dripping with menace, made Penelope feel even more uncomfortable than she had been for half her time in England.
"I must say, Penelope, I applaud how long you have remained in England," the Comte announced without turning away from the fireplace. At a flick of his hand, the door slammed shut behind her, making her jump with fright. "It is foul and damp, and the mornings and nights are dreadfully chilled."
Penelope couldn't have disagreed, though she might have admitted that she liked the chilled mornings, especially when she woke in the duke's arms. However, she had not liked it that morning when she had dragged herself from her empty bed to hurry down the dew-soaked lane to the place where he had summoned her.
"Why am I here, My Lord?" she asked, too terrified to be anything but blunt.
"Your husband has returned," the Comte said. Though it did not sound like a question, Penelope felt that it was one, and she found herself nodding. "He has a package he brought back from London and one which I now require. You shall bring it to me."
Penelope's heart stopped entirely then. She had no clue as to what he could possibly be talking about.
"A package, My Lord?"
"Yes, are you simple, girl? A package," the Comte snapped, and finally, he turned his gaze on her, glaring at her with unbridled hatred. "You shall bring me this package, or I shall tell the duke everything."
Penelope opened her mouth to speak, entirely unsure of what she was about to say, yet she never got the chance. Her terror at the thought of what Anthony might do if he knew the truth made her feel sick to her stomach, her heart threatening to break all over again.
He then added with quiet certainty, "Do this, or the truth comes out, and I shall make sure that you do not make it out of this alive."
Chapter 32
Having been unable to sleep for most of the night, Anthony was well aware of the young woman sneaking away from his countryside manor. He watched her go from a gap between the drapes that covered his bedroom window, having heard the sound of footsteps on the gravel below. Though she'd had her hood up, Anthony had seen from her hunched shoulders how she had kept glancing back over them that she did not wish to be seen.
The scene had left him feeling sick to his stomach and debating on whether he should follow her. In the end, he had been too sick and tired to bother. A part of him had even been concerned that perhaps she might not return. Yet when she did, having noticed her walking up the lane from the window of his study, he had been unable to stop himself from going out to meet her.
"Lady Rose," he called as he walked reluctantly down the lane to meet her, having seen her head bobbing above the hedge from some distance away. The moment she looked up, the hood of her cloak fell away from her face, and she looked horrified to see him. The expression told Anthony everything he needed to know. She had been up to no good.
"Husband!" she exclaimed, and her horror was erased by a flicker of hope as if she thought that maybe the distance between them that had settled in since his return home may have somehow been remedied.
If only it had,Anthony thought begrudgingly, maybe then he might have felt able to ask her outright what she had been up to. But the moment that the hope began to die in her blue-green gaze, Anthony decided against it. "Forgive me, I was not expecting to find you out here quite so early."
"Nor was I, you," he responded with a raised eyebrow. He opened his mouth to question her, but she beat him to it.
"I was unable to sleep last night and decided to take an early walk in the hopes the fresh air might clear my head," she told him, the corners of her lips twitching upward as if she were hopeful he would believe her.
Anthony wanted so desperately to believe her, but after what Lady Marchand had said only the day before, he couldn’t help feeling as though she were lying to him.
"How long have you been out here?" he asked, hoping that he sounded as nonchalant as he was trying to.
