Chapter Twelve

Penelope had borne too close a resemblance to a drowned rat upon returning to the house. Gracie, her lady's maid, had put her to rights as much as possible with Penelope's bones frozen and her nose red from the chill. She thought that reason enough to remain in her room for the afternoon, tucked under a blanket, watching the rain fall, and pondering how her attempt at wooing hadn't seemed to stoke the slightest interest in Niles.

Ought she to change tactics, or was persistence the more appropriate approach? She didn't wish to make a nuisance of herself, but without her effort, Niles wouldn't come to know her at all, and then there would be no chance of convincing him to choose her. And she wanted him to.

But he doesn't want me. That had been the conclusion she'd come to after the shrugging and confusion and suggestion that she ought to take her romantic drive around the estate with Violet. But Penelope had since decided not to believe that yet.

A knock at the door preceded Liam poking his head into the room. "I have remembered something encouraging." He stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

Penelope rubbed at her weary face. "What have you remembered?"

"Why Mr. Layton and I did not attend the same schools and why the one time I participated in the London social whirl, we hardly moved in the same circles." He seemed excited about whatever it was he had suddenly recalled. "Even before I met him, I heard whispers regarding his parents."

"I do not care to participate in gossip," Penelope said. "And I've not known you to do so either."

"Ordinarily, I wouldn't. But this is more than empty tittle-tattle. And it is helpful in our current predicament."

"I find that difficult to believe." The situation was complicated but not in a way that involved her runaway groom's friend's family.

"Hear me out, Penelope." To his credit, Liam didn't appear to be relishing Mr. Layton's unfortunate position as the focus of gossip. "He has his own estate, one that produces a very comfortable income," Liam said.

"Yes, he does."

"So he would not need his wife to have a dowry, which you do not have, other than Fairfield." Liam spoke quickly, something he did when particularly excited. "But Mr. Layton would not need Fairfield because he already has this estate, which would make him less inclined to object to your retaining ownership of it. That would make him an excellent choice for you."

Penelope shook her head. "I have already told you that I do not think he would cross his friend that way. And further, he would want to live here. I want to live at Fairfield. That is not an ‘excellent choice' for me."

"That is, in actuality, what makes him nearly perfect," Liam said. "Mr. Layton's parents, according to every discussion of them, never lived together. Not at any point in their marriage."

She hadn't allowed herself to hope more than fleetingly for a husband who would like her, even love her, but marriage to a man who didn't even want to live in the same house as her sounded awful.

"There is every chance Mr. Layton would have no objections to you making Fairfield your home." It was Liam's fastest sentence yet. "Such an arrangement is well-known in his family."

"Is his family happy?" she asked.

Some of his enthusiasm ebbed. "I—I don't know."

"Did his parents love each other at all?"

Liam looked immediately confused. "You gave me a long list of requirements, Penelope. Love was not on it."

Maybe it should have been. "The Laytons' family arrangements sound miserable. I hope I am not so desperate as to have to resign myself to that."

"Of course, I wouldn't want you to be miserable," Liam said. "But I also don't think we ought to abandon the possibility of Mr. Layton."

She didn't correct his use of we .

"I also mean to explore the possibility of Lord Aldric Benick."

Who was that? "To have that title, he must be the younger son of a duke or marquess."

Liam nodded eagerly. "The younger son of the Duke of Hartley."

"We don't even know the Duke of Hartley." Was Liam's worry over her future leading him to imagine connections he could not claim?

"Lord Aldric has just arrived at Pledwick Manor." Liam smiled broadly. "We will be well-acquainted with him soon enough."

"Could you allow the gentleman one evening's respite before attempting to tie him to your sister?"

"I am contenting myself with simply meeting him," Liam said. "If there seems a chance of turning his head in your direction, then I'm prepared to do so."

"I imagine he will be civil and gracious, but we are far beneath the notice of a duke's son."

"Were you and I to go to London, we would not even cross his path." Liam's enthusiasm was returning. "But we have a unique opportunity here. I don't intend to squander it."

"I am still hopeful that Mr. Greenberry will choose to proceed with the match," Penelope said. "Antagonizing his friends will undermine that possibility."

"In the end, we may discover that none of them is interested, and you will leave here as single as you arrived." Liam didn't appear to mean the blunt observation unkindly. "But if I can leave here as even bowing acquaintances to these gentlemen whose station in Society is so enviable, that would change everything, Penelope. I could attend the London Season with hope of success and of making other very beneficial connections. I hope you would not begrudge me that."

"Of course not." She didn't want him to continue feeling the sting of rejection he had endured during his one London Season. "Only, proceed with care."

"I don't—" He took a tight breath. "I am fully capable of navigating social situations, Penelope. And far more experienced than you are. It is unfair of you to lecture me on that."

"I hadn't meant to lecture." She offered a quick smile. "I am simply anxious. A great deal is riding on our success here."

"I know." He looked entirely uncertain. "And we will only be successful if we try. I am going to try, Penelope."

"So am I."

Liam left with an air of determination mingled with a nervousness she could relate to. Nothing had seemed to go their way since arriving in England. She needed that to change, especially since she was attempting to sort such an unsolvable puzzle entirely on her own.

She pulled on a shawl, still a little chilled from her soaking, and went in search of the closest thing to an ally she had. She found Violet in a small, cozy sitting room facing the back lawn. She also found her not alone. Sitting beside her was an elegant lady, their same age, with impeccable posture and a fashionably tidy appearance. When the unidentified lady's eyes fell on Penelope, her gaze turned immediately searching. Penelope would wager this was a person best not underestimated.

Violet waved her over.

"Nicolette," she said to the other lady, "this is Miss Penelope Seymour of Ireland. Penelope, this is Mrs. Nicolette Fortier, late of France and now residing in Sussex."

"And married to one of the Gents, if my memory serves," Penelope said as she curtsied in greeting.

" Oui. J'ai épousé le plus beau d'entre eux ."

"Though it pains me to admit as much," Penelope said, "I speak almost no French."

Mrs. Fortier colored the tiniest bit, her eyes darting to Violet. "Was I speaking in French?"

Violet smiled. "You have been mixing French and English ever since your arrival."

Mrs. Fortier shook her head at herself. "I have spoken only French for weeks and weeks. My mind seems to be struggling to remember that there are other languages."

Penelope leaned a little closer, working to keep her expression solemn. "In case you aren't certain, that was English."

A corner of the Frenchwoman's mouth tugged. "What a relief."

"Do sit," Violet insisted. "I'm curious to know how your ride with Niles went this morning, aside from the downpour, of course."

Penelope eyed Mrs. Fortier as she sat, unsure what the lady knew or how she felt. Her scrutiny did not go unnoticed.

"Violet has informed me of your current efforts to court him," Mrs. Fortier said. "She has further assured me that you will honor his feelings on the matter when all is said and done."

"I could not, in good conscience, do otherwise." The declaration emerged more fervent than she'd intended. But the thought of anyone being unkind to Niles Greenberry pricked at her heart. "He has shown himself to be kind and considerate. I will not mistreat him."

Mrs. Fortier raised an inquisitive brow. "This is the same Niles Greenberry who, in essence, jilted you in Cornwall?"

"And lied about his reasons?" Violet added.

Her ally was clearly not entirely convinced. "Will you think me utterly lacking in judgment if I told you that even with all those things arguing against his character, I still think he is a good person?"

Mrs. Fortier shook her head. "Niles is one of the very best of men, and his behavior in this matter is very much out of character for him."

"Is complete indifference to a lady who asked him to go for a ride with him and with whom he discovered a mutual love of horses and who has an estate that would be his home, which he expressed a great interest in having, also out of character for him?"

Violet watched her closely. "He didn't swoon over you during your ride?"

"Do gentlemen swoon?" Penelope asked, only half-jesting.

"They do sigh romantically now and then." Mrs. Fortier was difficult to sort out. She might have been jesting with that observation. But she might just as easily have been in earnest.

"Niles certainly didn't sigh or swoon today." Penelope needed to proceed with caution lest they decide that her efforts at courtship ought to already be declared a failure. "He enjoyed talking about horses, and I do think he enjoyed riding with me. I'm not certain what else to suggest. Playing another round of ground billiards or driving a pony cart around the estate did not pique his interest. I am hoping to come to know him better, but because I don't know him well, I cannot seem to stumble upon an activity that he would eagerly participate in."

"All the Gents are excessively fond of parlor games," Violet said.

Parlor games. Penelope wouldn't have thought of that. "I enjoy games."

"We will insist that is settled upon for our evening entertainment," Mrs. Fortier said.

"Does this mean you are willing to help me with my courtship, Mrs. Fortier?"

"You may call me Nicolette," she said. "And I am of the same mind as Violet on this courtship. Getting to know Niles Greenberry better is something more people ought to do. And you two might actually prove well-suited." Nicolette's posture and expression grew more firm. "I would not be at all accommodating of your efforts, however, if not for your promise to accept Niles's decision if your courtship does not prove successful."

"Have the two of you placed a time limit on my efforts?" Penelope hadn't the first idea how long their support would last.

Violet shook her head. "I suspect Niles will make that clear in his own way."

"I don't know him well enough to know what that way might be."

A smile tugged Violet's mouth upward. "We do mean to help you, Penelope. We adore our Gents, but they can be terribly confusing."

"I am discovering that."

"We aren't hoping you will fail," Nicolette said. "We want Niles to have a fair chance of determining what he actually wants, with all the information he needs to determine that. Helping you navigate that will help him."

She had two supporters. They were helping her only because they cared about Niles, but they were still helping. Penelope was grateful for that. She hadn't managed to make much headway. With Violet and Nicolette even a little bit on her side, she had a far better chance of succeeding.