Twelve
February 14, 1861
Agitated after a miserably sleepless night, John marched down the snowy sidewalk that had become so familiar in the last week. Penelope consumed his thoughts.
He passed no fewer than three fops carrying huge bouquets, no doubt off to woo some besotted female. John growled under his breath. He hated Valentine’s Day. A reality made all the worse by the fact that Penelope had refused to see him yesterday.
Engaged to Holbrook!
Christ, what a disaster. He had to speak with her. She couldn’t marry that deceitful bastard. Holbrook would never be faithful to her. He’d never treat her as she deserved. He’d snuff out the sweet innocence John found so intriguing and so very Penelope. The colonel had no interest in her happiness, he only wanted the status marrying an earl’s daughter would bring his career and social standing.
Physically nauseated by the turn of events, John jogged up the Landon’s steps and rapped hastily on the door.
The short-statured butler answered almost immediately. Over his head, John observed several servants, rushing about carrying furniture and draperies in preparation for the evening’s Valentine bash.
“The family is not receiving visitors today, my lord,” the butler said in his ever monotonous efficiency.
Frustrated, John pressed, “It is of the utmost importance that I speak with Lady Penelope.”
“Lady Penelope is out.” The butler’s eyes narrowed. “And my orders are no visitors until this evening. Good day, milord.”
John backed away from the door, contemplating his options. He sincerely doubted Penelope was out, but creating a scene was hardly the best way to get back in her good graces. He could leave a note, but she’d likely toss it in the fire as soon as she read it.
He hastened down the steps and strode briskly down the narrow alley between townhouses. He glanced through the windows on the main level and caught no glimpse of Penelope or her cousins. Even if he had, the house was alive with servants arranging and decorating for the ball. He passed the last window, frustration mounting by the second. He paused and Peered into the room, noting that it was totally devoid of people. The library. Shelves neatly stacked with books lined the walls, and several tables and chairs cozily decorated the room. Perhaps—
A flurry of blonde curls suddenly appeared on the opposite side of the glass.
Startled, John jumped back a foot. After a moment, he recognized Penelope’s blonde cousin—damned if he had any idea which of the twins she was. The blonde grinned and waved frantically. John tapped the glass, motioning for her to lift the pane. She quickly complied, flipping the latch and inching the window open.
