Nev your whole life! For God’s sake—”
“I’m sorry,” Nev said again, knowing it wasn’t enough. “But I’ve got to be respectable now, and I can’t do that with you two.”
“Fine. If we’re not good enough to associate with the Earl of Bedlow, we’ll take ourselves off.” Percy turned to go, but Thirkell just stood there, looking like a kicked puppy. “Come along, Thirkell,” Percy said gently. Thirkell hesitated, but Percy nodded his head at the door, and he went. Percy gave Nev a deep, ironical bow and slammed the door behind them.
Nev fell into a chair and stared longingly at the decanter.
“Here, put a forget-me-not there, just above her ear.” Mrs. Brown pointed.
“Mama, I’m already wearing about fifty forget-me-nots.”
“And you look lovely! Lord Bedlow won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”
“Yes, because he will be staring at all the forget-me-nots in horrified fascination.”
Mrs. Brown laughed. “I don’t think so. Blue is a good color for you.”
Penelope smiled at her mother. “Oh, you think everything is a good color for me.”
“That’s because everything is,” Mrs. Brown said. Penelope felt tears pricking at her eyes, but she forced them back.
As the wedding had neared over the last three weeks, she had become more and more certain she was making a terrible mistake; she couldn’t have explained what streak of stubborn perversity kept her clinging to her bad decision. She’d even started again with the nervous fits she’d thought were left behind in the schoolroom: as the wedding approached, she woke each day with her stomach tangled and sick, and spent breakfast fighting not to vomit in the eggs.
It had been bad enough her first year at Miss Mardling’s, when Penelope had no idea what was wrong with her and feared an exotic illness. Her roommates, of course, had suspected her of a shocking illicit pregnancy, and spread the rumor all over the school. The sick feeling had faded after a few weeks, and only when it had started up again the first day of every term, regular as clockwork, had she realized it was nerves.
It was worse now. Now she had to hide it from her mother’s watchful eye, or the wedding might still be canceled.
“Let us hope Lord Bedlow agrees with you.”
Mrs. Brown tweaked one of Penelope’s silk forget-me-nots. “He will. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”
Penelope knew what her mother must mean, but she wanted to ask anyway, so she would know that at least one person thought she hadn’t been imagining those looks, the few times she’d seen her betrothed since that dinner with her parents—the looks that said there was hope, that he didn’tjust think of her as the strip of brown paper that held together a stack of freshly minted banknotes.
Mrs. Brown placed one last flower in Penelope’s hair and stepped back with a satisfied air. “Perfect. Let me fetch my pearl earrings.” She bustled out the door.
A minute later, one of the footmen poked his head in. “This came for you, miss. We’ve opened it, but where do you want it?” He pushed the door open wider and Penelope could see the crate in his arms. On the side it read D UPRÈS ET FILS . Below, in smaller letters, was G RAVURES , A QUARELLES , D ESSEINS , L ITHOGRAPHIES , & C . 22 R UE DE R IVOLI , P ARIS .
Paris. Her heart began to pound. Edward had sent one letter after he got the news, pleading with her to change her mind, reminding her of all their plans. Her reply had been too short—she didn’t know how to explain herself, or what to say but no, she would not be changing her mind. He hadn’t written again. “Just set it on the floor by the bed.”
The second he was out the door she was kneeling by the crate—but carefully. She didn’t want to rip her dress, even though Molly, her lady’s maid, had said it would be good luck. With hands that shook a little, she took out one of the flat packages, ripping away the careful wrapping to reveal the expected
“I’m sorry,” Nev said again, knowing it wasn’t enough. “But I’ve got to be respectable now, and I can’t do that with you two.”
“Fine. If we’re not good enough to associate with the Earl of Bedlow, we’ll take ourselves off.” Percy turned to go, but Thirkell just stood there, looking like a kicked puppy. “Come along, Thirkell,” Percy said gently. Thirkell hesitated, but Percy nodded his head at the door, and he went. Percy gave Nev a deep, ironical bow and slammed the door behind them.
Nev fell into a chair and stared longingly at the decanter.
“Here, put a forget-me-not there, just above her ear.” Mrs. Brown pointed.
“Mama, I’m already wearing about fifty forget-me-nots.”
“And you look lovely! Lord Bedlow won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”
“Yes, because he will be staring at all the forget-me-nots in horrified fascination.”
Mrs. Brown laughed. “I don’t think so. Blue is a good color for you.”
Penelope smiled at her mother. “Oh, you think everything is a good color for me.”
“That’s because everything is,” Mrs. Brown said. Penelope felt tears pricking at her eyes, but she forced them back.
As the wedding had neared over the last three weeks, she had become more and more certain she was making a terrible mistake; she couldn’t have explained what streak of stubborn perversity kept her clinging to her bad decision. She’d even started again with the nervous fits she’d thought were left behind in the schoolroom: as the wedding approached, she woke each day with her stomach tangled and sick, and spent breakfast fighting not to vomit in the eggs.
It had been bad enough her first year at Miss Mardling’s, when Penelope had no idea what was wrong with her and feared an exotic illness. Her roommates, of course, had suspected her of a shocking illicit pregnancy, and spread the rumor all over the school. The sick feeling had faded after a few weeks, and only when it had started up again the first day of every term, regular as clockwork, had she realized it was nerves.
It was worse now. Now she had to hide it from her mother’s watchful eye, or the wedding might still be canceled.
“Let us hope Lord Bedlow agrees with you.”
Mrs. Brown tweaked one of Penelope’s silk forget-me-nots. “He will. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”
Penelope knew what her mother must mean, but she wanted to ask anyway, so she would know that at least one person thought she hadn’t been imagining those looks, the few times she’d seen her betrothed since that dinner with her parents—the looks that said there was hope, that he didn’tjust think of her as the strip of brown paper that held together a stack of freshly minted banknotes.
Mrs. Brown placed one last flower in Penelope’s hair and stepped back with a satisfied air. “Perfect. Let me fetch my pearl earrings.” She bustled out the door.
A minute later, one of the footmen poked his head in. “This came for you, miss. We’ve opened it, but where do you want it?” He pushed the door open wider and Penelope could see the crate in his arms. On the side it read D UPRÈS ET FILS . Below, in smaller letters, was G RAVURES , A QUARELLES , D ESSEINS , L ITHOGRAPHIES , & C . 22 R UE DE R IVOLI , P ARIS .
Paris. Her heart began to pound. Edward had sent one letter after he got the news, pleading with her to change her mind, reminding her of all their plans. Her reply had been too short—she didn’t know how to explain herself, or what to say but no, she would not be changing her mind. He hadn’t written again. “Just set it on the floor by the bed.”
The second he was out the door she was kneeling by the crate—but carefully. She didn’t want to rip her dress, even though Molly, her lady’s maid, had said it would be good luck. With hands that shook a little, she took out one of the flat packages, ripping away the careful wrapping to reveal the expected
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