Chapter Two

Cornwall, one month later

"What do you mean he's not here?"

Penelope Seymour didn't need to ask the question out loud because her brother, Liam, did so first. They'd made the journey from Ireland to Cornwall so she could meet her betrothed and so he and Liam could sign the marriage agreement.

She had anticipated awkwardness between her and Mr. Niles Greenberry, had planned on it. She had bolstered herself to endure discomfort and hesitation. She had spent some time rehearsing in front of her obliging mirror a few responses to questions she thought her soon-to-be husband might ask, including why it was that her mother hadn't bothered to make the journey. She'd even practiced keeping her expression neutral so she'd keep hidden all indications of pain and rejection.

She'd not made plans for the possibility that her betrothed would be absent entirely.

Mr. Greenberry's father, who had been introduced to her as Mr. David Greenberry, not to be confused with the multiple other Messrs. Greenberry in the area, offered a quick explanation. "Niles made an unexpected journey to the home of a friend almost a month ago with every intention of returning before your arrival. We expected him back days ago."

"Inclement weather, perhaps?" Liam asked.

Mrs. Greenberry offered a small shrug. "That is a possibility."

But, Penelope would wager, based on the hesitancy she saw, the lady didn't actually think weather had delayed her son's return.

"He will, no doubt, rush into the house while we are all at supper, embarrassed at his tardiness and explaining the... carriage difficulties he had or something of that nature." The missing groom's father didn't seem to fully believe the explanation he was suggesting either.

Penelope was admittedly nervous about marrying a stranger, but she'd not ever considered the possibility of running away. Had Mr. Niles Greenberry done precisely that? Surely not.

"Is the Royal Mail so dawdly here that a letter of explanation couldn't have reached you since the time he was meant to have left his friend's home?" Penelope asked, searching about for some kind of clarity.

Her future in-laws exchanged uncomfortable glances. 'Twas answer enough, really. The missing Mr. Greenberry would have sent a letter, either from the home of his friend or from a roadside inn, if his travels had gone awry, and that letter would have arrived by now.

He'd piked off.

This was not going at all the way Penelope had anticipated. She had a groom who was nowhere to be found. Now what was she to do?

"We are to dine tonight at Ipsworth with my parents," Mr. Greenberry said. "Please rest from your travels until then."

There was a hint of desperation in the invitation and a look of worry lurking in the gentleman's eyes. Did he think Penelope meant to run off as well? She was made of sterner stuff than that.

They were shown to the adjacent guest chambers, where they were to spend their time in Cornwall before the wedding.

Mere moments after being left there by the housekeeper, Liam joined Penelope.

He eyed her with palpable misgiving. "Now what do we do?"

"Dress for supper, I suppose."

"Do be serious, Penelope." He dropped into a chair near the fireplace. The poor man looked defeated already. "We've come all this way after so many months of correspondence, and Mr. Niles Greenberry couldn't even be bothered to be here."

"I'd not assume his absence is a matter of indifference."

Liam shrugged and nodded in unison. "A gentleman will most certainly have an opinion on the matter of his impending marriage."

What, then, was her betrothed's opinion?

"Mr. Robert Greenberry didn't give you any indication that his grandson was opposed to the match?" she asked, referring to the family patriarch, whose house they were eating at that evening.

The grandfather of her intended had undertaken all the discussions and negotiations. That had seemed odd at first. She'd worried that Mr. Niles Greenberry was weak or simple or lazy or... A great many concerning possibilities had occurred to her. But after a few letters, the inner workings of the Greenberry family had grown clearer.

Each generation appeared to defer to the one before. It almost felt like a little kingdom nestled away in Cornwall. The eldest Mr. Greenberry was the king. Even a monarch's own grandchildren deferred to him without that being an inarguable indication of moral or intellectual weakness. Of course, it could be both. A prince could be deferential and feeble, obedient and spoiled.

"If the eldest Mr. Greenberry had given any indication that his grandson had the least objection," Liam said, "then I would have had hesitation myself."

Where, then, was the grandson?

"The middle Mr. Greenberry didn't seem to truly believe his son was simply late."

Liam's brow creased in that way it always did when pondering something he found overwhelming. "Suppose the absent Mr. Greenberry doesn't return?"

Penelope wasn't nearly as ready to admit defeat as Liam seemed to be. "We've only been here for an hour. I don't know that I'm ready to bring in mourners to weep and wail for my dashed hopes."

He chuckled a little, and she breathed more easily. Laughter had always helped her face life's difficulties.

"Have you set your heart so much on this gentleman you have never met?" His lips pulled downward, drawing his eyes in the same direction. "I suppose... I could try"—he drew the word out long, emphasizing it in an inarguably doubtful way—"to find someone else."

Someone else she had never met. She would, of course, far prefer to marry someone who actually liked her, who cared about her. In her most imaginative moments, she had even let herself dream of marrying someone she loved who loved her as well. But that was not her lot in life. She had to hold out for those important aspects of a match that she could reasonably fight for. "How probable is it that this hypothetical ‘someone else' would agree to our terms regarding Fairfield?"

Liam rubbed at his temple. "It is unusual enough for a lady to inherit an estate. Our great-uncle created a very odd situation leaving it to you."

An odd situation, yes, but he'd also given Penelope greater hope for her future than most ladies had. That hope had ebbed, though, when she'd realized that a lady's property, by default, became her husband's upon marriage unless the marriage agreement specified otherwise.

"If the Mr. Greenberry we are waiting for doesn't return or does only to refuse the match"—heavens, she hoped neither scenario played out—"we could find someone else."

Liam looked miserable and exhausted. "I know I just said I could try. But I already have, Penelope. I tried with everyone I could think of in Dublin. I tried with any number of English families I had any kind of connection to from my days at Shrewsbury and the one Season I spent in London." He stood and crossed to the windows, tension rippling off him. "I've been trying for years. But you have no dowry, and Fairfield, which under normal circumstances would be a dowry, is not to serve in that capacity. Our family hasn't any enviable connections or lofty standing." He looked back at her, misery in his expression. "I have been attempting for years to secure a match on the terms you wish for. Years, Penelope."

It was decidedly discouraging, but she didn't mean to entirely abandon this possibility too quickly. "Mr. Greenberry will return soon enough."

"What if he doesn't?" Liam pressed.

Penelope took a slow breath to steady herself. "Then, I'll be in a spot of difficulty, won't I?"

" You will be in a spot of difficulty?" Liam shook his head. "I'll be the laughingstock of Dublin."

"And I will be the jilted old maid."

"Neither of us will emerge from this fiasco unscathed." His posture slumped. "Is Fairfield worth all this?" Liam clearly had his doubts.

"Yes." Even if Fairfield were the only consideration, seeing this match through would be worth the current discomfort and uncertainty. But it wasn't the exclusive reason she needed the wedding to move forward as planned and without delay.

She'd begun making arrangements for living at Fairfield and for making it the profitable horse-breeding endeavor she knew it could be. But most merchants and virtually all banks and creditors were hesitant to work with an unmarried lady. She had a chance to purchase a stallion at a price she knew she'd not ever see again. The animal had good bloodlines and a regal bearing. It, along with the stallion and two brood mares that were already hers, would allow her to begin immediately building her lifelong dreams at Fairfield.

But the loan she needed was contingent on her being married. The stallion wouldn't be available forever. And after her repeated insistence that she was soon to be married, should she then fail to marry, the bank might never trust her again. That would undermine her for years.

"There must be someone else who would allow me to keep Fairfield."

"Niles Greenberry is not merely your first option. He is your last ."

?

"I assure you, Miss Seymour, Niles was raised to be more mannerly than the current situation would indicate." The eldest Mrs. Greenberry—the queen , as Penelope thought of her in order to keep them all sorted out in her mind—sat with palpable dignity as supper was served with still no hint of the missing gentleman. "I am certain he will return horrified at having not been here and deeply apologetic for the inconvenience he has caused." There was a hint of "he had better" underlying her declaration.

The lady's son and daughter-in-law did not appear as convinced as she was. The nervousness and uncertainty that had been in their expressions earlier remained. If anything, it had increased.

The king of the family was proving the most unbothered by the situation. Penelope didn't for a moment believe he was truly indifferent. He, after all, had invested months of correspondence in bringing this match about. What appeared to be a lack of concern was actually confidence, which helped keep Penelope from fully panicking.

An awkward silence settled over the table, broken only by the clink of crystal and the ping of silverware against china. It seemed even the footmen were holding their breath.

Penelope wasn't fully panicking, but she was partly panicking.

She pushed around the pease porridge and ham on her plate, doing her best to appear to be eating, but in truth, she had no appetite. She didn't consider herself a pessimistic person, but she couldn't entirely convince herself that Mr. Niles Greenberry was soon to return, and every dream she had depended on his return. Every last one.

"Your family's reputation as preeminent horse breeders and trainers is quite impressive," Mr. David Greenberry—father of the missing Mr. Greenberry—said into the uncomfortable quiet.

"Thank you, we have worked hard to become so," Liam answered, though Penelope did far more to continue that tradition than he did. She'd learned long ago to let her father, while he'd been alive, and now Liam, take credit. Liam grew easily embarrassed when he thought his sister was outshining him in matters generally seen as belonging to the men in a family. Her pride in what she had accomplished didn't require him to suffer indignities.

It was, truth be told, for the best that in the matter of their horses, Liam take the credit anyhow. The Greenberrys struck her as a very traditional family. She couldn't imagine they would look with approval on a lady being directly and deeply involved in a business endeavor that fell outside the generally accepted bounds of accepted behavior. The situation was already precarious with Mr. Niles Greenberry so conspicuously absent. She couldn't afford to make a horrible impression on his family.

And in that was another reason she needed to marry. Having a gentleman attached to the equine efforts she intended to continue at Fairfield would give them a legitimacy that would be lacking if she alone were seen to be undertaking them. And it would preserve her reputation, allowing her to have a place in Society, to perhaps have friends.

"I hope when Niles returns," the younger Mrs. Greenberry said to Penelope, "that you will have the opportunity to ride with him. He is quite an adept horseman."

That was revealing. "Which means his delay isn't likely to be the result of a riding mishap."

"He will return soon enough," the monarch of the family declared over the rim of his cup. "The Greenberrys have been married in the chapel here for generations. He will be the next."

Penelope studied him. He took note of her scrutiny. For just a moment, his confidence remained undented. But that moment gave way to a dropping of his eyes to his plate.

This family had reason to believe the prodigal prince stayed away intentionally and, worse yet, didn't actually intend to return and do his duty.

Her partial panic grew.

"We had hoped your mother would be making the journey to Cornwall," the queenly Mrs. Greenberry said, clearly thinking it a casual conversational topic.

'Twas anything but.

"Our mother intends to make the journey closer to the wedding day." Liam's answer was accurate if incomplete.

Mother had bemoaned the inconvenience of traveling to Cornwall, something her only daughter's wedding apparently did not justify. And she had further complained that none of her particular friends would be there, a more important consideration than whether her own children would be. Penelope didn't think her mother was truly selfish... merely inconsiderate.

That was what she told herself, at least. Just as she told herself that Liam wouldn't be required to search out another match who would inevitably snatch away all her dreams for her future. The banks and the stallion and the preparations needed at Fairfield would not wait forever.

Mr. Niles Greenberry was, as her brother had stated, her last option. Her only option.

She needed to find out where he was.