Page 48 of The Rise of a Forsaken Lady
“Er…I would be delighted to,” she said with some level of wariness in her voice.
“Good night, Lady Penelope.”
“Good night, My Lord,” she said as he moved toward the door. With the door closed behind him, she let out a breath that she had not known she had been holding.
Turning, she spotted Mr. Moore standing there. His visage was expressionless as usual, but she felt that something else, irritation or something of the sort, was resting behind his impassiveness.
“Thank you, Mr. Moore,” she said while stifling the urge to yawn before him.
“You are welcome, and sleep well My Lady,” he said with a bow.
As he walked off, Penelope felt confounded. She had misunderstood Stephen, but Mr. Moore was a puzzle that she could never solve. Every time she believed she had slotted a piece in place of the picture that made up his whole, she was forced to yank it out and start over from scratch.
Shaking her head, she went off to her bedroom ready for Martha to help her undress. As expected, the maid was there, already undressed to her nightclothes. Dropping her reticule onto a dresser, Penelope sat and tugged her shoes off and wiggled her toes.
“Tonight was…” she trailed off, “surprising.”
“Because of Lord Hillbrook?”
“Yes,” she added. “I had taken him for a man who leaned to tragedies or political dramas like Hamlet of King Lear…but to be treated to a comedy…I am delightfully taken aback.”
She stood as Martha helped her out of the dress and her undergarments and into her nightclothes. “I wonder what else he can spring at me next?”
“I suppose you will have to see, then,” Martha said in her usual shrewd tone while fixing Penelope’s brushed hair under a silken cap.
“I suppose I will,” Penelope added while standing up and wishing her maid a good night. She did not dare tell Martha how she felt with Hillbrook’s flirtation. Perhaps she was overthinking it, and fatigue was coloring her assessment the wrong shade.
I’d probably have a clearer head in the morning.
She settled into her bed, lazy thoughts running through her head about Stephen, but gradually, her attention changed to Mr. Moore.
The man is more mysterious than a …. ugh, I don’t even know what to liken him to. I suppose I am honored that he told me about his childhood…I am honored actually but then…that evening in the stables when he could not speak to me. Why did I feel such pain that he could not look me in my eyes? But then…the other morning, I swore his soul was in his eyes with apology. Where am I with Mr. Moore?
That question went through her mind in loops and swirls, lulling her to sleep, and instead of the man who was wooing her, her mind was filled with Mr. Moore.
Waking up to a gray sky and cool winter wind, she had a thick wrapper on and went to the nearest window, and she felt worried again. Hillbrook’s advances should have flattered her, but she felt skittish. Pulling the sleep cap off, she shook her head and let the wild curls fall. Raking her fingers through it, she plaited a long braid.
Dressing into a worn blue dress, she put her thick-soled shoes on and went directly to the stables. Bessie was…in a mood. That was the best way Penelope could put it. Bessie tossed her head and danced away when she tried to approach her. Laughing, she reached out, but Bessie shied away again.
Suspecting how to solve the issue, Penelope stepped away and went to Duke. There she reached up, and though the dark stallion eyed her, he bent his head to allow her to pet him. Bessie whinnied in indignation, and she bit her lip to keep in her laugh. Duke did yank his head away to look over to Bessie, but she took his head back to her.
“Don’t look over at her,” Penelope chided. “She is not being agreeable with me at the moment.”
Bessie whinnied again, and Duke yanked his head over to her. Bracing her hands on her hips, she mock glared at him, “Oh, I see how it is. You would prefer her than me.”
“You should not be surprised, My Lady,” Mr. Moore’s voice said behind her. She turned to see him at the doorway bearing a tray with a cup of tea and a covered plate. “He is a gentleman after all. I trained him to be that way.”
“I consider myself fortunate then to have three gentlemen in my life,” Penelope said.
His brows crinkled a little and she clarified, “Lord Hillbrook, Duke, and now you, Mr. Moore.”
“Me?” He asked.
“Of course, you are included,” Penelope added with a slant to her head. “You are sophisticated.”
He snorted, “What about Lord Allerton? I believe he should be on your list too.”
“My brother is blooded…” she said musingly, “but primitive in many ways.”
