Page 58 of The Rise of a Forsaken Lady
“You have nothing to be sorry about,” Heath said while gravitating to the last window that he had to close.
The back lawns were stretches of dark planes, broken up by lines of bushes and stone walkways.
She got closer. “Are you sure?”
Pivoting slightly, he said, “I am not angry.”
“Yes, you are,” Penelope said with Oracle-level insight, “But even if you are not, I am for you. I hate how Eddie has all these conceited friends, and how they look down on anyone who is not on their level.”
“I hate how he ignores you,” Heath replied.
She did not reply for a moment, and he felt concern so turned to her fully. “Penelope—”
His arm was grasped, she was then on her tiptoes and her lips almost met his for a long agonizing second before he stepped back. There was not much light, but he could see the flash of hot and deep rejection in her eyes.
Even as she made to tug away, he grabbed at her and held her still. “No…don’t go.”
“Why?” her voice was frail, edging unto a whimper. “I have made a massive mistake.”
“No, you have not. You only took me by surprise.” Heath aimed to calm her fears a breath away before he tugged her closer and solidified the kiss. The inner of her mouth tasted like rosemary tea and sugar, but he did not dare deepen the intimate touch knowing she was not used to this kind of intimacy. He quickly felt like he was getting drunk on her touch, soft lips and the swell of her hips under his hands.
Pulling away, he rested his forehead on hers. “Where did this come from, Penelope?”
Her voice was unsure and with every word, her voice dipped until the last came out in a whisper, “Weren’t you going to kiss me that night in the stable…or earlier today?”
He could feel that she was on the verge of running so he kept his grip sure. “Yes, but I didn’t feel it my place to do so.”
“Was it because of Hillbrook?”
“No. He had nothing to do with it,” Heath replied, feeling bitter gall rise in his throat at the mention of the man. “It felt…wrong.”
“Why?”
Pressing his lips to her temple, he replied, “I’m a footman, Penelope.”
“With a wit that I admire, skills that intrigue me and a reading of history that I find mirroring mine,” Penelope said matter-of-factly as her hands trailed up to his shoulders. “I do not care that you are a footman, Heath.”
She then pulled away and looked at him deeply. Heath knew her shrewd eyes would see what he had hoped to keep secret. “What are you not telling me?”
“That I hate how Hillbrook even looks at you,” he confessed. “I hate how he believes that he has first rights to you or even ownership of you as if you’re a head of cattle. I don’t trust him, Penelope. I don’t.”
“Stephen is—” he grimaced, and she corrected herself with a contrite look. Of all the times to say the man’s given name.Wonderful, Penelope.
“Hillbrook is harmless. He’s conceited yes, most if not all my brother’s friends are, but they are all reared that way, Heath. They cannot help it.”
His lips press together, stifling the words that Hillbrook was more of a threat that she might think. His political affiliations were changing her brother to radicalism and his company was slowly pushing her into their focus and told her so.
“I’d rather you not be a part of their company,” he said while stepping a foot away. “They are dangerous, Penelope. Swanville is a Napoleon sympathizer and Hillbrook is a Whig. Their idealisms are too close for me to be comfortable.”
Her head tilted, “How do you know that Hillbrook is a Whig?”
Drat! She probably would not take it lightly to know that I had gone snooping in her brother’s study.
“I overheard him speaking at the ball Lord Allerton gave,” Heath replied. “It was not hard to discern which side of the political curtain he stood on.”
She took his answer with a sigh. “I know. He’s not exactly subtle about it.”
“But your family is sworn to the Crown,” Heath’s voice was vacillating. “If you did get…with him, how would you cope?”
