Three
For one heart stopping instant Penelope’s gaze collided with Colton’s. Time all but stopped as shivers glided down her spine and gooseflesh prickled her arms. Oh, but he was so handsome. The sheer sight of his face could liquefy her knees. Garbed in a black waistcoat and silver vest, he appeared every inch the refined and noble duke. Some gossiped that he possessed a condescending, snobbish manner, but Penelope knew differently. She’d sampled his wit and carried on the most ordinary conversations with him. How she longed to do so again. Staring into his unreadable expression, flutters erupted in her chest with such force she was certain he must see her heart pounding beneath her dress.
Penelope gulped, contemplating the crossroad stretching before her.
To her left stood the kindly Colonel Holbrook—the safe choice, a man who would never break her heart—and situated directly before her was the man who’d wrecked her. And wrecked or otherwise, she could not drag her attention away from the duke. The level of excitement he elicited within her must be a sign.
The wine rested heavily in her sweaty fingers, tempting her, and without another thought, Penelope marched forward, her gaze never wavering from Colton’s. She was a fool, but at the moment she didn’t care. At that moment she felt alive inside and she wanted to grab hold of that feeling and never let go.
“Good evening, Your Grace.” Penelope stopped a respectful distance from Colton, dipping into a small curtsy.
“Lady Penelope,” he murmured, shifting his gaze out over the crowd. No doubt searching for his fiancé’s prying eyes. The duke set a full wine glass identical to Penelope’s on the white clothed table beside them. “I trust you are well this evening.”
She smiled and covertly placed the gypsy wine beside his glass. “Quite. Are you having a pleasant time?”
“Yes.” He glanced briefly into her eyes. “I plan to join a card game in a few minutes.”
“How nice.” Penelope nonchalantly lifted his wine glass from the table and took a delicate sip, hoping the action would prompt him to lift the other glass and drink as well.
He didn’t.
Not to be deterred, Penelope took another taste from the glass.
Colton clasped his hands behind his back and cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable.
Frustrated, Penelope smiled sweetly and searched for something, anything, to say before he excused himself and strode away from the wine.
“Right then,” he said in a bright voice—too bright. “It was very nice to see you this evening.” He plucked the glass from the table, tipping it to her in subtle salute. Penelope’s heart skipped a beat, maybe two. He was going to drink the gypsy potion! “If you’ll excuse me, I—”
“Colton!” Another man’s voice boomed.
Startled, Penelope and the duke turned in tandem. A young, dark haired man in simple but elegant black evening attire strode purposefully toward them. Penelope didn’t readily recognize the gentleman though he did bear striking resemblance to Colton.
“I read your letter,” the stranger grumbled, stopping directly before Colton and ignoring Penelope entirely. “The answer is no. Absolutely not. I cannot believe you would have me—”
“John,” Colton interrupted quickly, a glimmer of panic lighting his eye. “Why don’t we discuss the matter further in private.”
“There is nothing more to discuss,” John replied, stance rigid.
Colton, still holding the full glass of wine, shifted his attention back to Penelope. “Please forgive the rude interruption, Lady Penelope, my brother has been away from polite society entirely too long.” He glanced back to his brother. “Lord John, I don’t believe you’ve met Lady Penelope Hale.”
John grunted in response, scarcely sparing her a sideways glance. How rude!
“Lady Penelope, my brother, Lord John Breckenridge.”
Penelope gave a slight bob. “My lord.” She knew very little of Colton’s younger brother other than that he was a military officer who’d recently served in India. Given his less than civil manner, she would just as soon have gone on without making his acquaintance. There was no excuse for blatant rudeness. While not quite as tall as the duke, Lord John was broader in the shoulders and much thicker—brawnier—with the scarred, calloused hands of a working man. He shared his brother’s dark hair and eyes and a similar aristocratic bone structure, but other than looks he seemed to be Colton’s exact opposite.
Colton smiled pleasantly down at her. “If you’ll excuse us, Lady Penelope, my brother and I need a moment alone.”
“And I need a drink,” John muttered. “Give me that.” Without preamble he reached out, took the wine glass from Colton’s hand and—to Penelope’s absolute horror—drained the contents of the glass. Every… last… drop.
“No,” she gasped.
John’s eyes flicked to her and he lifted the glass. “Does this wine taste like cinnamon to you?”
“Er, I…” She looked down into her own wine at a total loss. “No.”
“Hm.” He grunted again, shrugged, and finally set the glass down on the table. Without further adieu Lord John turned on a heel and marched directly through the line of merry dancers, throwing several off step. Colton shook his head and followed, skirting the dance floor.
Penelope stared after them. “Oh, dear God,” she muttered. “What have I done?”
“Penny!” Marie’s urgent voice sounded directly behind her. “What happened to Colonel Holbrook?”
Penelope gulped. “I changed my mind, but Colton didn’t drink the potion. His brother did.”
“Oh, no.” Marie, too, stared after the departing men. “Was he amiable?”
“Not at all.” Penelope turned to her cousin. “I’ve never met a man more unpleasant or rude in my entire life.”
“Did he look at you?”
“Immediately.”
Marie pursed her lips. “We’ll talk to my maid and see if there is a way to reverse the potion.”
“Or maybe it won’t work,” Penelope offered hopefully. It wouldn’t work. Couldn’t possibly. And yet the impending sense that disaster was about to strike refused to dissipate.
“Good evening, Lady Penelope.”
Sparked from the depths of her thought, Penelope glanced up to find Colonel Holbrook standing before her, a warm grin adorning his face. Internally she groaned. This was the last thing she needed. Another potential suitor. Not that John or Colton were necessarily suitors… at the moment she wasn’t entirely certain what the brothers were, but the whole situation felt terribly complicated. Penelope forced a smile. “Good evening, Colonel.”
“Would you grant me the pleasure of this dance?”
Complicated indeed.
