Page 73 of Snapdragons
She kept one hand pressed to his heart and wove the fingers ofher other through his thick, silky, brown hair. His sigh told her he enjoyed her touch as much as she delighted in his.
She’d so often told herself that she could be content with a marriage that simply let her keep her estate. In this one kiss, she discovered the truth she’d not yet been willing to confess: she wanted—needed—to be loved. And in a rare bit of fortunate fate, she had found someone who might.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Penelope was walking on air.She’d trekked to Yorkshire hoping to convince a stranger to go through with their wedding. The gentleman she’d come to know was proving everything she hadn’t realized she’d been longing for. It was more than his love of horses and athletic endeavors, more than his enjoyment of nature and friendly interactions. He was kind and considerate, intelligent and thoughtful. His sense of humor so perfectly complemented her own. He knew of her difficulties with her family and her struggles to claim her future, and he not only understood, but he also wasn’t condemning her for her missteps.
And he’d kissed her in a way that she would thoroughly enjoy experiencing every day for the rest of her life. And she’d not complain about the occasional boxing lesson either. Just the memory of his thumb brushing the length of hers sent shivers all through her.
She was smitten; there was no denying it.
Every time her eyes met his across the supper table that night, Niles smiled and even colored a little. That set her heart fluttering and hope shining ever brighter in her mind.
No sooner had she and the other two ladies settled into the drawing room than that very topic was taken up.
“Based on the looks passing between you and Niles,” Violet said, “I am beginning to suspect we will be forgoing the fair next week and holding a wedding instead.”
Though entirely pleased with the idea, Penelope shook her head. “You are seeing more in this than there is.”At the moment, she silently added.
“Youdon’tthink Niles’s thoughts have turned in that direction?” Nicolette seemed to think Penelope rather foolish to be as cautious as she was being, which only added to the hope Penelope felt.
“He kissed me.”
Both ladies’ eyes widened.
“Am I wrong to believe he wouldn’t have done that on a whim?” Penelope pressed.
“You are not wrong,” Violet declared at the same time Nicolette said, “Il ne ferait pasça,” which Penelope assumed also meant that there was every reason for her to see depth in Niles’s show of affection.
A sudden commotion sounded in the corridor.
“That does not sound like the gentlemen abandoning their port,” Violet said.
“I would say it sounds like an arrival at the house.” Penelope rose and moved toward the door of the drawing room. She peeked out, curious.
Itwassomeone only just arrived at Pledwick Manor: a lady, an infant, a child who appeared to be perhaps a year old, and a woman who appeared to be the nursemaid.
Penelope looked back into the drawing room. “Does Mr. Layton have a sister, by chance?”
“I honestly don’t know,” Violet said. “He doesn’t speak of his family.”
Then, this was not a relation of his.
She looked toward the entryway once more and realized the newcomers were headed toward her. The mystery would be solved soon enough.
Penelope stepped away from the doorway just as the lady, now holding the infant in one arm and, with her other, holding the hand of the older of the children, who toddled beside her, swept inside.
“Julia!” Violet and Nicolette exclaimed in unison.
Ah. The much-spoken-of Lady Jonquil. Though Penelope’s curiosity had grown by leaps and bounds at having heard the lady mentioned so often and so glowingly, her nervousness at actually being faced with her quickly surpassed that curiosity. Whether or not the Gents or the ladies realized as much, Julia’s approval and disapproval held tremendous sway among them. Suppose she decided Penelope was not to her liking?
Rather than face the possible answer to that question, Penelope slipped from the drawing room, giving herself a moment’s respite in the corridor. But a moment was all she was afforded. The sound of the Gents’ voices preceded their appearance by mere seconds.
“Let us hazard a guess which of your ladies has found herself missing you so desperately that she simply had to put an end to our post-dinner port.” Lord Jonquil laughed. When he saw Penelope, he grinned. “It appears our culprit is Miss Seymour.”
“’Twas not I,” she said.
Mr. Layton took up the teasing. “Tell me, then, the one requesting our precipitous arrival, does she have a French manner of speaking?”
