Page 26 of The Rise of a Forsaken Lady
“That dress, My Lady,” Martha said with horrified tones, “was a pale paisley outdated monstrosity with buttons up the back to your neck that flared out at your hips unnaturally, like a ghostly wide-hoops. It made you look shapeless.”
“Which was the point,” Penelope groaned. “I had hoped to dissuade conversation.”
The door to the carriage opened, and Edward stepped inside to sit across from her and beside Martha. The Earl was dapper in a dark jacket, trousers, and a dark-blue waistcoat that matched his eyes. His jacked parted to reveal the silver time fob pinned to his waistcoat.
Instantly, he looked at her, “What are you planning?”
“Nothing,” Penelope said sullenly.
“Gads, Penelope,” Edward huffed while tapping the roof, unspoken command for the driver to go. “You promised to socialize.”
“‘Good day’ seems social enough.”
“And promised to dance.”
“That was for our ball,” Penelope said defensively, “not the Blackwood one.”
“It does not matter. You will not escape to the library either,” Edward added.
Narrowing her eyes, Penelope said through gritted teeth, “Eddie!”
“You promised,” the Earl said stiffly. “Even if you did not agree to those terms, but those are the terms you must agree to after you pledged to socialize.”
Confound his logic.
“Fine,” Penelope sighed and twisted her head out the window. Her eyes traced the dark forms of the trees lining the road, and she hoped her pensive stare hid the anxiety lingering just below the surface. She did not want her nerves to show. She could not afford to be nervous.
It had been a while since she had been in a ballroom and even longer since she had truly danced the list of a ballroom country dances. The very thought of dancing the waltz terrified her as being in close contact was not her strong suit.
I am sure I’ll be the talk of London tomorrow. Perhaps the headline of the scandal paper will be,‘The hermit sister of Lord Allerton has resurfaced from her hidey hole. Ready your materials, men, hunting season is afoot. She may run, she may hide, but she is up for the taking. A fifty-thousand-pound dowry might spur your heels’.
Dimly, she heard a polite conversation between Edward and Martha, but it was cut short after inquiries about each other’s health. Edward was speaking, but she did not focus on his words.
“Penelope!” he snapped.
She jumped. “Sorry?”
The irritation on her brother’s face smoothed out into sympathy. Penelope nearly recoiled. Her mask had dropped and he was seeing right through her. Edward then reached over and took her gloved hand in his. “It will be all right, Penelope. I promise. I understand that this is your first try, so I don’t expect you to go to extreme lengths to prove your commitment.”
“I will still be the centerpiece of attention,” Penelope said dryly.
“Be that is it may,” Edward consoled while patting her hand. “Do not push yourself too far. I do not expect you to come out with a husband tonight.”
But you would not mind, either.
Managing a smile, the rest of the hour trip to Mayfair was done in soft silence. Edward’s words—though aimed to be comforting—did not lessen her anxiety. In the quiet, she did not remember a single face of the women she had met in London over two years ago. Perhaps, seeing faces would unearth the names of those who she truly did not recall.
Then again, they might just think I’m snobbish.
Carriages were lined up on the Mayfair road to the townhome, and they inched forward at a snail’s pace.
“Gads, Eddie!” Penelope peeked around the curtain, “Is the Regent himself at this ball?”
“Edward,” the Earl snipped. “For the last time, it is Edward, Penelope.”
When they finally got to the entrance, the carriage door was opened by Mr. Moore. Edward alighted first unattended, but then it was her turn. Mr. Moore’s tall black-clad form nearly merged with the night around him, and his white-buckskin gloved hand whispered again her silk as he took her hand.
“My Lady,” he bowed, and the moonlight ran over the brim of his top hat.
