Page 45 of The Rise of a Forsaken Lady
The rough heel of his right hand pressed deeply into his eyes while regret and frustration made a miasma of emotions in his chest. Lady Penelope had given him all the chances to free himself from the jealousy that was gnawing him alive. It made no sense, no sense whatsoever to be this possessive over a lady who…who only saw him as a footman.
I do know that she does not deserve this, to be thrown into a lion’s den when she is such an innocent lamb.
Morning came and he could not dismiss the heaviness in his chest from the previous evening. He got ready in his livery and went about his tasks. He could not shirk his duties for personal problems. After getting the shutters open and the lamps doused, he went to the dining room and to set the sideboard for breakfast.
With equal measure, he anticipated and feared that Lady Penelope would request her breakfast in her rooms again. He hated the strain between them and had vowed to apologize for his ill-mannered behavior in the stables. Almost silent footsteps—familiar footsteps—had him swallow tightly before turning to see Lady Penelope.
She had a small smile—a little brittle at the edges if you looked closely—and a placid expression.
“Good morning, My Lady,” he said, pointedly not looking over the dark circles under her eyes. “What may I get you this morning?”
“Tea, please,” she breathed out quietly. “Thank you.”
Nodding, he poured out the tea and placed it before her with a small jug of milk and sugar for her to add. Her smile of thanks was soft and without her asking, he took up one of the freshly-made pastries, bejeweled with dollops of blackberry jam and drizzled with honey and rested it before her. Her eyes darted up in surprise and he deliberately held her eyes as long as he could, trying to apologize for his boorish behavior with his gaze.
Lady Penelope’s hand was halfway to the treat, but her eyes were on his with confusion darkening her light golden eyes to a mystified tawny hue. In the next heartbeat—which felt tightly stretched—she then nodded and smiled, but his time it was not forced. She had forgiven him, without saying a word.
The tight double-knots in his chest unraveled a little as her hand reached the last few inches to take the saucer. With a nod of relief, he stepped away and went to stand by the sideboard. Lord Allerton then came in with a tired face but somehow animated eyes. He had probably just come home.
“Good morning, My Lord,” Heath bowed. “Would you like anything?”
“Ten hours of sleep would do the trick,” the Earl sighed while rolling his neck and grimacing at the snap of his bones. “Good morning, Penelope. Mr. Moore, please request a bowl of pheasant soup to be ready for me when I manage to drag myself out of sleep later today.”
“Peppered, My Lord?”
“No,” the Earl shook his head, “Pepper will only aggravate my already-tender stomach.”
“And why is your stomach so delicate?” Lady Penelope asked.
“Too much wine and scotch,” Lord Allerton grimaced. “Russell had another vigorous political gentleman debate assembly last night again, and I must admit that I drank too much of each without thinking about the next morning ramifications. Mr. Moore, I think a glass of milk would be best.”
Swanville was there too, I would bet.
“Oh, here,” Lord Allerton said while fishing into this jacket and producing a card, “Russell thinks you might appreciate the opera at the Theater Royal in London this weekend. It is a musical adaptation ofThe Comedy of Errorsor…possiblyThe Tempest.” His face scrunched up before rolling his eyes with a sigh. “Well, it’s one or the other, sister dear. I did not listen too closely.”
After taking a cup of warm milk and bidding his farewells to the two, Lord Allerton left to the room, and Heath turned back to the sitting lady. Lady Penelope had a particular exasperated look on her face before she shook her head softly.
“I wonder what topics those meetings take on to make my brother look so stressful?”
You would rather not know, Penelope.
Her name, sans the Lady, felt strange in his mind but even though it rang oddly, but it felt…right. Miss Bell then came into the room and greeted him gaily.
“My Lady,” the lady maid then said after. “A few sections for your new wardrobe have arrived.”
Puzzlement is clear on Lady Penelope’s face. “New…wardrobe?”
Miss Bell arched an eyebrow, “A month ago you asked me to send in your measurements to Lady Ophelia from theLes MerveilleusesBoutique in London, remember?”
Lady Penelope blinked, still oblivious.
“You wanted more dresses and a few fitted breeches,” Miss Bell voice dipped at the last few words into a hush.
He saw Penelope shoot a frantic look to him but pretended that he did not see her look or had heard Miss Bell’s words. His face was schooled into polite indifference, but his lips were threatening to quirk at the corners.
“Oh…” she mumbled, “that.”
A curious idea that Penelope would have preferred a lot more breeches instead of the dresses ran through Heath’s head, and his lips did curl. As she went back to her tea and bun, Heath asked Miss Bell if she needed anything and to her polite refusal, left them.
