A Perfect Weakness by Jennifer A. Davids

Author:Jennifer A. Davids [Davids, Jennifer A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Smitten Historical Romance
Published: 2018-07-24T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 18

Miss Abbott!

Penelope stumbled back, scanning the walkway behind them. It was empty. Had she seen them and run off?

“Miss Howard?”

No, she was still looking for her and would find her in another minute. She faced Lord Turner, but he was leaning heavily against the stone balustrade, his head lowered.

What should she say? Anything? Everything? If she had thought for one moment it had been him rather than her brother—

The same thing would have happened.

Hadn’t her heart hoped Lord Turner would come to her aid? Almost counted on it? Oh, why hadn’t Miss Abbott waited a second, a minute, an eternity longer before calling out for her?

No. It wasn’t right. She should apologize for her brazenness.

But he spoke first. “I’m sorry.”

His voice was deep and throaty. Penelope took a small step toward him. “No, my lord, I—”

“Miss Howard?” Miss Abbott called again, much louder this time.

Penelope walked away. She would apologize later. Just as soon as her head got her heart under tight control.

She met Miss Abbott just before she came around the corner of the house. She seemed irritated. Had she seen them?

“Your brother just told me how my aunt spoke to you,” she said. “I must apologize.”

Penelope relaxed. “It’s quite all right. I was just ... getting a bit of fresh air.”

“Of course.” She stepped back as if to leave, then paused. “Is something wrong, Miss Abbott?”

She tipped her chin up. “Would you take a turn with me? There is something I wish to ask you.”

“Certainly.” She gestured toward the terrace and, as soon as Miss Abbott’s back was turned, stole a glance behind her. Lord Turner hadn’t moved. She paused another fraction of a second then followed Miss Abbott.

Miss Abbott locked arms with her, and they walked along the edge of the terrace several moments before she finally spoke. “My aunt—and my father for that matter—are very determined that I should marry.”

“Yes.” Penelope’s heart twisted. Miss Abbott’s relatives were determined she marry Lord Turner. “I am sure they only want what is best for you.”

“I have not yet had anyone ask for my hand. But it is only a matter of time before they can persuade someone to do so.”

“Persuade? I think you are being hard on yourself, Miss Abbott.”

They came to the steps which led to the lawn and stopped. “I don’t think I am. I know I am not as graceful or tactful as most ladies my age, and I find most of the local marriageable men boorish, immensely stupid, or both. Lord Turner, I have found, is the sole exception.”

“He is a very fine man.” The words sounded far steadier than her heart.

“He is, but he has given me the distinct impression he has no desire to marry. And as I have no wish to be a baroness, there is little else to be said concerning him.” Her eyes narrowed. “But my aunt and my father will eventually find somebody for me to wed, and I pride myself that I am logical enough to see the sense in the arrangement, despite the fact I would rather not enter into such an agreement.

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