Discovering the Devil

E i g h t e e n

XVII

PENELOPE felt a pang of disappointment once they broke away. Afterward, Harry neatly tucked her arm into his as they began their walk to rejoin the party. "That cannot happen again," he said.

"Nothing happened, Sir. I believe it was you who touched me first." After a heartbeat, she dared to look at him. His face was hard to read. "Why can't it happen?"

"You know why.'' Once they rejoined the fold Harry shrugged off her arm. For the remainder of the walk from the stables to the house, Harry refused to look or speak to her for the rest of the outing. He made sure to sit far away from her when they were having victory refreshments and pointedly ignored her comments. Penelope told herself to ignore her burgeoning irritation, but she found she could not. It was starting to devour her. She understood why their arrangement should be what it was but that didn't mean Penelope had to like it. They ate their refreshments in the drawing room and then took a tour of the grounds outside. Penelope, of course, hardly paid attention. She hardly saw Berkeley's beautiful spruces and sequoias or the lovely field of wildflowers (believe it or not, Penelope was a great lover of nature). When she suddenly found herself on the terrace for lunch, she didn't know how they got there. That complete lack of awareness forced Penelope to pay attention. She still liked Emma and Charlotte, despite their trickery the previous night. Honestly, she could only be so upset. If it was Polly's heart on the line, she would've done the same thing without blinking. And, Charlotte had cured her hangover. Whatever magic potion she'd given Penelope had righted her in minutes. She watched Harry tell a joke while the rest of his friends hung on to his every word. It was so refreshing to see him like this. Smiling. Laughing. Free. He wasn't a Satan shrouded in the darkness that Milford forced him into, he was a man. A man who knew how to smile and laugh without a hint of bitterness. A man who was not cold or sarcastic or priggish. It was nice to see that man come to life. For the briefest moment, Penelope wished she could stay here with him in Berkeley House forever. If only.

After lunch, Penelope excused herself to use the privy. She did need to relieve herself, but frankly, Penelope needed a little solace more than anything. She gazed into her reflection in the mirror and pressed her hands against her cheeks. Was she really a woman desperate for a man who refused her? Months ago, if someone told her she'd find herself in this predicament, Penelope would've laughed. Now, she sort of wanted to cry. Outside of the privy, Mr. Cartwright was waiting.

Penelope felt a wave of humiliation, though she wasn't sure why. There were plenty of toilets around. If one was occupied, he could've just found another. "Oh, I'm sorry if I took too long."

Mr. Cartwright smiled. "It's alright. If I'm being honest, I didn't want to use the privy. I wanted to talk to you."

Penelope felt a stab of fear. She didn't have to guess what he wanted to discuss. "Yes?"

Mr. Cartwright offered his arm and Penelope reluctantly took it. "May I be frank with you, Penelope?"

Did she have a choice? Also, when did they agree to refer to each other by their first names? "Of course, Mr. Cartwright."

"Oh, just Percy, please. Anyway, when I first met you, I wasn't impressed. I mean, your mother is wealthy and titled, there is no real reason that you should be serving as a housekeeper. I thought you were using Harry to wound Solomon."

"I would never do that." It was taking superhuman effort not to snap at him.

"And then you pretended that you had no hold over him when you begged me and Zachary to convince him to forfeit the duel. After that, I didn't know what to make of you." Was the whole purpose of this conversation just to insult her? "But, I know my previous judgments were wrong." Percy smiled. "I see the way you look at him."