Page 34 of Snapdragons
“That is, in actuality, what makes him nearly perfect,” Liam said. “Mr. Layton’s parents, according to every discussion of them, never lived together. Not at any point in their marriage.”
She hadn’t allowed herself to hope more than fleetingly for a husband who would like her, even love her, but marriage to a man who didn’t even want to live in the same house as her sounded awful.
“There is every chance Mr. Layton would have no objections to you making Fairfield your home.” It was Liam’s fastest sentence yet. “Such an arrangement is well-known in his family.”
“Is his family happy?” she asked.
Some of his enthusiasm ebbed. “I—I don’t know.”
“Did his parents love each other at all?”
Liam looked immediately confused. “You gave me a long list of requirements, Penelope. Love was not on it.”
Maybe it should have been.“The Laytons’ family arrangements sound miserable. I hope I am not so desperate as to have to resign myself to that.”
“Of course, I wouldn’t want you to be miserable,” Liam said. “But I also don’t think we ought to abandon the possibility of Mr. Layton.”
She didn’t correct his use ofwe.
“I also mean to explore the possibility of Lord Aldric Benick.”
Who was that? “To have that title, he must be the younger son of a duke or marquess.”
Liam nodded eagerly. “The younger son of the Duke of Hartley.”
“We don’t even know the Duke of Hartley.” Was Liam’s worry over her future leading him to imagine connections he could not claim?
“Lord Aldric has just arrived at Pledwick Manor.” Liam smiled broadly. “We will be well-acquainted with him soon enough.”
“Could you allow the gentleman one evening’s respite before attempting to tie him to your sister?”
“I am contenting myself with simply meeting him,” Liam said. “If there seems a chance of turning his head in your direction, then I’m prepared to do so.”
“I imagine he will be civil and gracious, but we are far beneath the notice of a duke’s son.”
“Were you and I to go to London, we would not even cross his path.” Liam’s enthusiasm was returning. “But we have a unique opportunity here. I don’t intend to squander it.”
“I am still hopeful that Mr. Greenberry will choose to proceed with the match,” Penelope said. “Antagonizing his friends will undermine that possibility.”
“In the end, we may discover that none of them is interested, and you will leave here as single as you arrived.” Liam didn’t appear to mean the blunt observation unkindly. “But if I canleave here as even bowing acquaintances to these gentlemen whose station in Society is so enviable, that would change everything, Penelope. I could attend the London Season with hope of success and of making other very beneficial connections. I hope you would not begrudge me that.”
“Of course not.” She didn’t want him to continue feeling the sting of rejection he had endured during his one London Season. “Only, proceed with care.”
“I don’t—” He took a tight breath. “I am fully capable of navigating social situations, Penelope. And far more experienced than you are. It is unfair of you to lecture me on that.”
“I hadn’t meant to lecture.” She offered a quick smile. “I am simply anxious. A great deal is riding on our success here.”
“I know.” He looked entirely uncertain. “And we will only be successful if we try. I am going to try, Penelope.”
“So am I.”
Liam left with an air of determination mingled with a nervousness she could relate to. Nothing had seemed to go their way since arriving in England. She needed that to change, especially since she was attempting to sort such an unsolvable puzzle entirely on her own.
She pulled on a shawl, still a little chilled from her soaking, and went in search of the closest thing to an ally she had. She found Violet in a small, cozy sitting room facing the back lawn. She also found hernotalone. Sitting beside her was an elegant lady, their same age, with impeccable posture and a fashionably tidy appearance. When the unidentified lady’s eyes fell on Penelope, her gaze turned immediately searching. Penelope would wager this was a person best not underestimated.
Violet waved her over.
“Nicolette,” she said to the other lady, “this is Miss Penelope Seymour of Ireland. Penelope, this is Mrs. Nicolette Fortier, lateof France and now residing in Sussex.”
