Page 29 of The Pleasure in Persuasion

Shock hit him, freezing his limbs, and he looked past Lily with growing dread to find his sister standing a few feet away, glaring daggers at him.

Bollocks.

“It’s true then,” Penelope said, stalking toward them, her mouth drawn into a fierce frown. “I didn’t want to believe it, and yet, here you are. With Lily.”

Frederick cleared his throat and forced his lips into a smile. “Penelope. This is a lovely surprise. What brings you to the inn today?”

With Penelope glowering and Frederick smiling, Lily’s head snapped back and forth between them, her confusion evident.

“I went into the village today,” Penelope said, crossing her arms over her chest. “I stopped in at the tavern to have an ale with my dearest brother, only to run into Mr. Charles Carstairs instead, who proceeded to tell me that he met my brother, Frederick, a few days ago, and how thrilled I must be over Frederick’s impending marriage”—her nostrils flared—“to my dearest friend, Miss Lily Grayling.”

“You didn’t tell her?” Lily demanded, her expression aghast.

Frederick winced and held up his palms. “It isn’t what you think, Pen. Let me explain—”

“It isn’t what I think?” She plunked her hands on her hips, all sisterly indignation. “I think I told you to stay away from Miss Grayling, and yet, you’ve apparently done exactly the opposite. Am I incorrect in my assessment?”

She wasn’t, and she had every right to be angry. Regret swamped him. He should have told her at the start.

“Penelope, please,” Lily said, her even voice intending to calm. “It truly isn’t what you think it is. If you will allow us to explain…?”

Penelope’s hands remained planted on her hips, and although she was still scowling, she did nod her assent. “Fine. You will explain,” she said to Lily. “And you”—she shot Frederick a glare—“will remain out here until we are done.”

“Penelope—” Lily started to protest, but Frederick stopped her.

“It’s fine,” he said. “I’ve earned my sister’s poor opinion of me. I will stay here and finish chopping the wood.” He held out his empty glass and gave Lily a small smile. “Thank you again for the lemonade.”

She eyed him curiously for the barest moment before taking the glass from him then heading toward the inn, his unhappy sister trailing behind her.

“Well, hell,” Frederick muttered to himself. “That certainly could have gone better.”

But he supposed it could have gone worse, as well. At least Penelope hadn’t murdered him.

With a heavy sigh, he retrieved the axe then turned to face the still-large pile of wood, determined to finish the task before nightfall.