Page 56 of The Rise of a Forsaken Lady
“If I do, will you tell me I’m right?” Her response was a nod and she surged on. “Five-and-twenty?”
“No.”
“One-and-twenty?” Penelope asked while she moved to get a brush for Bessie.
“No.”
“Was I under or over with that one?”
“I will not tell,” Heath said tongue-in-cheek. “The agreement was you would guess, and I will tell you if you are right.”
Narrowing her eyes, she said, “Seventy-and-five, if you’re going to be a grouch about it.”
“I am affronted,” Heath mocked a look of outrage. “How could you ever insult me so?”
She lobbed the brush as him, and he ducked the airborne missile even though Penelope was sure he could have easily caught it. It clanged loudly against the wall, and he looked at it with exaggerated horror, “And now you try to kill me? My Lady! For shame!”
Could she possibly die of humor? This banter with Heath was light, wonderful and invigorating.Behind that stoic shell, he is a different person. I wonder who gets to see him this way? I wonder, does he have a…lady friend.
Instantly, her insides tightened. She made to ask him the very question when she felt it too personal and switched. “Do many others know this side of you?”
He fetched the brush and handed it back to her, “No, not many. I don’t have many to be around anyway.”
This time she did gather the courage to ask, “Not even…” she nibbled her lip and studiously face Bessie’s side, “a lady friend? Surely, as handsome as you are you have one.”
From her peripheral, she saw his eyebrow arch. “You think I’m handsome?”
“Don’t be facetious, Heath,” she scolded. “It’s below you.”
He came closer and his eyes were dark, burning with a verdant simmering heat, “No…I don’t have a lady friend.”
Hovering half a foot away, she couldn’t look away from his gaze. As before, the invisible load stone created an invisible tether between them, and the magnetic force hummed in the sliver of space that was getting smaller and smaller.
He’s going to kiss me I’m sure of it.
Her heart walloped, the tempo of it reckless and uncontrolled as it beat in her breast. Every muscle inside her tightened and her lips slipped open just a fraction.
“Lady Penelope?” Lord Hillbrook’s voice cut through the air, and suddenly, Heath was almost ten feet away from her. He was in the same room but felt like half a mile away. His happy face was suddenly erased, and stoic somberness took its place.
“My Lady, are you in here?”
Her jaw ticked. “Yes, My Lord…I am.”
Entering, the merrily-dressed Baron, clad in a light peach waistcoat and white beeches slanted a quick suspicious look at Heath before focusing entirely on her. He even stepped between them. “Lady Penelope, there you are.”
Looking quickly at a suddenly emotionless Heath, Penelope felt the air go icy. He had become a different person entirely and was far removed from the one she had just been bantering with. And she hated it—she hated Stephen for it. His untimely visit had robbed her of something she had wanted to feel.
“Why are you here?” Penelope asked before realizing the undertone of irritation it had come out with. “I mean, I did not get any correspondence about your visit, or I would not be in this drab dress.”
To prove her point, she looked down at her faded dress, the hems of which was stained with dirt speckles and grass stains.
“My Lady,” Stephen said with a smile, “You could be in a gunnysack, and I’d still find you enchanting.”
She was tempted to scoff at his blatant attempt to charm her, but it was Heath’s sudden exasperated rolling eyes, spotted over Stephen’s shoulder, that made her giggle. Apparently, the Baron took it to mean he had enchanted her. Penelope opted to let him believe it as he held out his arm to her.
“May I escort you back inside, Penelope?”
His sudden use of her given name surprised her, and she frowned a bit. Why was he being so familiar all of a sudden? Then she saw Heath’s face, his eyebrows were down, his jaw was clenched tight and his lips were a pale line.
