Page 61 of The Rise of a Forsaken Lady
She snorted in derision.
“but you have to understand, that the political scene is not as black and white as you think it is,” Edward said. “If you would understand, Napoleon might be a despot, but his ideas to revolutionize his country were exceptional. There are ways to incorporate those underlying ideas into England.”
“But they are anarchist ideas,” Penelope stressed while scratching Bessie’s ears. “Even you can see that mere contemplation or those ideals much less implementation is a terrible idea.”
“Penelope, the ideals the government has are archaic,” Edward pressed. “If it takes a bold person to take those ideas and use them to our advantage, then it must be done. England will suffer under this outdated regime.”
“And are you that person?” Penelope asked pointedly. “And are you willing to forfeit your life and family to do it?”
“There is no forfeiting as I will not be doing any of it,” Edward clarified. “There is a difference between appreciating the theory behind the science and applying it. I will not be applying any of the sort, but I cannot promise that if someone does apply them, I will not support the effort.”
“Which is just as bad,” Penelope rolled her eyes. “Goodbye Edward. I’ll be happy to talk to you when you regain your senses.”
Taking back the brush, her attentions were back on Bessie as Edward huffed audibly and left the stables. “Still a stubborn as when we were little.”
Mid-stroke she remembered that Edward had hired Heath and knew his name. A name she had uttered. Dash it all! The brush fell to the floor as she ran out with her heart was firmly lodged in her throat. She made it in time as Heath was rounding a corner, a corridor coming from Edward’s study.
His expression was blank, emptier than usual, and she knew what had happened before and his voice was monotone, “Good afternoon, My Lady.”
She sagged on the wall as he passed by and felt the last shred of hope she had that Edward had not chastised him. Spinning, she hoped he was not going to pack his things after a dismissal. Wasn’t there enough emotional upheaval for that day? Aggravated, Penelope marched to her brother’s study and pushed the door open to see Edward at his desk stacking some papers nonchalantly.
“What did you do?” she demanded with her fists clenching at her sides.
“Care to be more specific?” Edward asked coolly.
“Don’t you dare spin that on me,” she said heatedly while her mind began spinning horrible theories about what Edward could have done with Heath, the man she was begging to love. “What did you do to Mr. Moore?”
“I did not do anything,” Edward said. “You did by calling him by his first name. I only reaffirm the line of propriety between you two.”
Her fears grew colder, “What did you do?”
“From now on, you will call him by his name, and he is to speak to you with your proper title.”
Does he know he now calls me Penelope?Praying that Heath had not slipped she said cautiously, “He had only called me by my proper title.”
“I know,” Edward said while not looking at her at all. “And from now on you will call him by his surname. You must adhere to the boundary lines of the given station, Penelope.”
“So, to you, he is a servant first and a man second,” Penelope was appalled.
Edward flicked a look up to her with a frown creasing his brow. “That is not what I said.”
“No…” she shook her head, “but it is what youmeant. You know Edward, one day you are going to realize that men are more than servants and the lords you spend so much time and that you laud every day might be less deserving of the title than you believe.”
She spun around and walked off with Edward gaping at her like a fish out of water. Penelope passed the sitting room where Heath was fiddling with a shutter and their eyes met. Praying to see a flash of soft care and recognition of her turmoil there, her hope was sky-high, but his face was empty, a blankness that was beginning to spread to her soul.
Numbly, she nodded and turned away swallowing over a parched throat, hating that Edward had just taken her damaged heart and was now slowly chipping away at it.
Listlessly, she went to her room to sit, dazedly on her front room’s wingback and stare into nothing. She heard Martha’s quiet step and felt her soft touch on her hand.
Looking hollowly to her best friend who held her unspoken question in her eyes said. “Mr. Moore…Heath…he kissed me....”
Still shocked, Martha asked, “He what?”
Her laugh was hollow, “Well, I kissed him first and I thought I had made a mistake but he—he said I had not made one but it wasn’t his place to do so,” Penelope whispered. “And then he kissed me. It was the sweetest touch Martha…it was like he was afraid to even touch me. I loved it.”
“But something happ—oh God—” Martha’s eyes flew open. She was actively trembling, “Did Lord Allerton find out about it?”
“No!” Penelope spoke stronger than she had to. “No. He does not know about that and he’ll kill me if he did.”
