Page 37 of The Rise of a Forsaken Lady
“I am a caitiff wretch,” he replied with a smirk.
“An unrepentant one,” she added.
“Undeniably,” he replied with the same unapologetic smirk on his face.
The ice was broken—somewhat—and they began speaking on safe topics like the current play in London and Lord Hillbrook’s and her brother’s business ventures. She asked about New York and was told a tale of a charming city on the water’s edge with a civilization that was just a few decades behind England’s economic progress and culture but enchanting, all the same.
“I would like to see America, one day,” Penelope mused.
“And I would love to take you there,” Lord Hillbrook said. He then wiped his palms on his trousers, “I think my time had passed, Lady Penelope.”
He stood and took her hand. She rose and stood near him and met his earnest blue eyes, “I am delighted that we could speak and get over our misconceptions. I do have one request to make, My Lady…”
Penelope had a suspicion what he was going to ask but prodded him anyway, “And that is?”
“Call me Stephen,” he asked.
Drat.
“It may take me a while to rewrite your name in my mind, and I will not promise the change will be done soon,” she spoke.
“That’s all I ask,” Lord Hillbrook nodded before he bowed and kissed the back of her hand once more. His thumb ran over her kissed the skin, “Good day, Lady Penelope.”
She saw him out and watched as he got into the carriage. Martha came to stand beside her. They stood in silence watching the dust from the departed carriage settle back on the ground.
Her hand rose and she twisted to look on her wrist—like the time before it—to see if there was any decipherable mark where Lord Hillbrook—Stephen—had kissed her. Nothing was there, but she still felt his lingering touch. She felt conflicted. Was this her only chance of getting married? Had it all come down to Hillbrook?
“Do you think he’s truly…” she trailed off, “who he says he is now.”
“No one can tell, My Lady,” Martha said. “I suppose only time can reveal that mystery.”
She could only agree; then dropped her hand. “You’re right.”
Walking back in, she went back to the library where she scooped up the bouquet of wildflowers and took them downstairs to find a vase. She found an old crockery one with faded blue flowers painted on the pale ceramic background, and with Martha’s help, filled it in with water and arranged the flowers beautifully. While doing so she wondered if she had truly misjudged Lord Hillbrook.
Perhaps on that front, but she was sure that there were other points to him that still puzzled her, like why he was so irritated at Mr. Moore. The manservant had done nothing to the Lord, but nevertheless, he had been angry. Why?
“My Lady?” Martha asked.
“Hm?”
“Your brow is furrowing again,” Martha chided.
Huffing out through puffed cheeks Penelope shook her head, “I am not sure what to do with Lord Hillbrook…a part of me will still see him as my brother’s friend, even if he does become my—”
“Husband?” Martha asked.
Penelope grimaced slightly, “Let not get ahead of ourselves now. I still find him a little irritating.” She turned away and went to find a seat and folded her hands on her lap. “I would like to believe that there are more suitors I might have but…I won’t fool myself. If he is…then he is.”
Mr. Moore then walked into the room with a bucket piled high with coal, and he stopped short. “Forgive me, My Lady and Miss Bell, I did not know you were here.”
A soft comfort ran through Penelope. There was a sense of security and kinship she found with Mr. Moore that she had not found with any other. “It’s not a problem, Mr. Moore.”
She watched as he went to top off the grate and asked casually, “Have you attended to Bessie today?”
“I have,” he replied while standing and brushing his hands off. “She’s happy as far as I can see but had a bit of snappish. It took me a while to get her to eat but she did.” His deep eyes looked up at her, “I think she misses you.”
“I’ve not been there for only a day,” she laughed. “She can be very childish at times.”
