Page 5 of Love in the Time of Scandal
Atherton glanced at her sharply, but thankfully didn’t argue. “Yes, in Richmond. Unfortunately I’m kept here in London most of the year. I believe my sister Samantha is better acquainted with Miss Weston.”
“Indeed,” said Penelope with a pointed smile. “I hope Lady Samantha is well.”
“Yes,” said Lord Atherton after a moment’s pause. “She is.”
Too late Penelope remembered about Samantha. In their zeal to clear Sebastian Vane’s name so Abigail could marry him, the Weston girls had inadvertently resurrected a dark secret of Samantha’s, one her brother had claimed would lead to dire consequences for her. Penelope hadn’t wanted to cause trouble for Samantha, but Sebastian had been accused of murder and thievery; Abigail’s happiness depended on exonerating him, and Samantha was the only person who could help. Penelope cringed to have brought it up, but Atherton did say she was well, so the consequences must not have been as bad as he’d predicted. Still, she did truly like Samantha—far more than the lady’s brother—and she was sorry to have been so cavalier with her name.
For a tense moment they seemed frozen there, Penelope biting her tongue, Frances looking troubled, and Atherton staring at her with a strange intensity. He shook it off first. “Miss Lockwood, I hope you’ve saved me a dance.”
Frances’s smile returned, although a little less brilliantly than before. “Of course, my lord. I am free the next two.”
“Excellent.” He gazed warmly at her, and Frances seemed to sway on her feet.
Penelope had to work hard to keep from rolling her eyes. How could she escape this? Thankfully she caught sight of a familiar face across the room, causing her to smile widely in relief. “You must excuse me, I see a dear friend just arriving. Miss Lockwood, Lord Atherton.” She bobbed a quick farewell and all but ran across the room.
Olivia Townsend was one of Penelope’s favorite people in the world. She was only a few years older than Abigail, and had been like an older sister to the two Weston girls for as long as Penelope could remember. Olivia’s family had lived near the Westons and all four children had been fast friends. But while Penelope’s family had prospered—greatly—since then, Olivia's had not. At a fairly young age, she’d made a hasty marriage of dubious happiness to a charming but feckless fellow, Henry Townsend, who managed to run through his modest fortune with shocking speed before his death a few years ago. Since then, Olivia had lived very modestly. It was a surprise to see her here tonight, in fact, as she didn’t often attend balls.
“Olivia!”
Her friend was scanning the room and didn’t seem to have noticed her approach; she jumped at Penelope’s exclamation. “Oh,” she said in a constricted voice. “You startled me.”
She blinked. “I can see that. Whom were you expecting, an ogre?”
For a moment Olivia’s face froze, as if she had in fact been on guard, but then she smiled ruefully. With a shake of her head, she turned her back to the room and squeezed Penelope’s hand. “Forgive me; I was woolgathering. Are you enjoying the ball?”
“Well enough.” Penelope peered closely at her. “What’s wrong? You looked worried.”
Olivia waved one hand. “It was nothing. How kind of you to leave your friends and join me.”
Penelope barely kept back her snort. “I don’t know how I could have stayed. You’ll never guess who Miss Lockwood’s new suitor is.”
“Who?”
“Lord Atherton,” whispered Penelope, after a cautious glance backward. She’d already let her temper get the better of her once tonight, and wouldn’t put it past him to overhear every slighting word she spoke about him.
Olivia looked surprised. “Atherton? The gentleman who courted—?”
“The same,” said Penelope grimly. “And my sister felt so cruel to turn him down! I shall have to write to her at once and assure her that, far from suffering a malaise, he’s found a younger, sillier girl to marry.”
“Now, Pen, you don’t know that. He may be deeply attached to her.”
She couldn’t stop the snort this time. “She is certainly attached to him. He’s the perfect man, in her telling. I don’t know how I could have held my composure if I’d known who she was talking about. He sits and listens to her practice the pianoforte—can you imagine?”
“Perhaps he enjoys it.” Penelope widened her eyes in patent disbelief. “Perhaps he’s so smitten with her, he would be content just to sit and gaze at her,” Olivia added. “It could happen.”
“Huh.” Penelope made a face. Just the thought of Lord Atherton sitting and staring at her was enough to make her skin prickle.
“Well, it’s Miss Lockwood’s cross to bear,” said Olivia practically.
“But if he marries her, I’ll have to see him from time to time.” Frances might be young and naïve, but she was endearing all the same, and Penelope did like her.
Olivia laughed and tucked Penelope’s arm through hers. “Perhaps she’ll become disenchanted and change her mind about him.”
She caught sight of Lord Atherton, leading Frances about the floor in a quadrille. Frances was fairly radiating adoration as she gazed up at him. It took Penelope some effort to quell the urge to run over and warn Frances not to fall for his very handsome smile, or athletic figure, or disgustingly perfect face. “For her sake as well as mine,” she grumbled, “I hope so.”
Chapter 2
Benedict Lennox had never thought he was one to take things for granted, but he was quickly revising that opinion.
