Page 37 of Yule Be Mine

Chapter Fourteen

January 8, 1861

Hertfordshire, England

“You mustn’t overtire yourself, Penelope. You’ve only got one more week to prepare for the wedding. You must save your strength.” Mama sipped her tea to fortify her as they sat in the drawing room, going over the list of things still left to do for the big event. She’d been atwitter with advice about Penelope’s health ever since Yule had reminded her mother that Penelope’s constitution might not be very strong. It was a boon as far as the wedding was concerned, however it was maddening not to be able to do any of the most pleasant pastimes the countryside could offer in winter, such as skating and sleigh rides.

The monotony would be endurable if Yule was with her, but that decision had been taken out of their hands. On the eve of their departure to their home estate in Hertfordshire, just after they’d rung in the New Year, Yule had been commanded to remain in London at his grandfather’s request regarding some family business.

Ever since they’d arrived at Clairemont, Penelope had mourned the loss of London and even more the loss of Yule’s constant companionship. They’d become quite adept that last week at creating outings in the afternoons to mask their amorous trysts at his rooms. Now she’d been without him for four whole days and her body ached to feel his arms wrapped around her once more as he plunged into her, making her world shatter around her.

“I will be careful, Mama.” Not that she needed to be. Truth be told, she’d not been allowed to do a single thing ever since her wedding had been hastily moved up. Mama was so afraid she’d tire herself out, either she, Charlotte, or a footman did everything for her. It gave her a new understanding of the phrase “being waited on hand and foot.”

Her enforced idleness, however, had given her lots of time to think about various topics, one of which was what the ladies of the ton had made of the drastic change in the date for the wedding. Quite likely, they’d surmised Penelope was in a family way, which might indeed be true, although Penelope had no clue if she was. Still, the busybodies who kept track of such things had likely been waiting for her to swoon in public or begin to remain sequestered at home awaiting the little bundle of joy. Now that she was no longer in London for them to speculate about, she supposed they would fasten their attention on the next innocent victim. Penelope sighed. In some ways, she was glad to be out of the city. “Although there’s nothing particularly dangerous or diverting in Hertfordshire for me to be careful about.”

“I am not too certain of that, my dear.” Mama leaned toward her, a twinkle in her eye. “I received a note this morning from Lady Elizabeth Weston. She is coming for tea this afternoon to welcome us back to the neighborhood on behalf of the Quartermain family.”

“That is terribly nice of her.” Most likely that call had been precipitated by her engagement to Yule, although the duke’s family at Welwyn Castle had always been friendly with them, of course.

“She’s bringing her eldest son with her.” Now Mama was almost beside herself with the excitement of this news. “Mr. Thomas Weston, you may recall. You danced with him at the Kastners’ party.”

“Tom Weston!” That took Penelope aback. She remembered her encounter with Tom perfectly well. He’d wanted to make Yule jealous of his dancing with her and had succeeded royally. “Oh, yes, I do remember him. Yule tells me he’s quite the rake now he’s captain of his own ship.”

“And quite an eligible bachelor as well.” Mama sipped her tea innocently.

“Well, I am spoken for, thank you very much.” Penelope raised her nose. Tom had been exciting, but much too wild for her. She’d considered him husband material for the briefest of seconds when trying to get Yule to notice her, but she’d never been serious about setting her cap for him.

“You are not the only eligible young lady in this house, Miss Penelope. Your sister could do worse than bringing Mr. Weston up to scratch.” The lace on Mama’s cap threatened to fly off she nodded her head so vehemently.

“I’m not so certain—”

“Lady Elizabeth Weston and Mr. Thomas Weston, ma’am.”

Penelope sat up quickly, a pleasant smile on her face. She’d have to remind Mama about certain aspects of Tom Weston’s outrageous behavior, which her mother had conveniently forgotten. If she thought she’d be able to make a match between Charlotte and Tom, Mama was surely building an elaborate castle in the air.

“Lady Elizabeth, Mr. Weston.” Mama had on her most pleasant smile. “So very nice to see you. Lady Elizabeth this is my youngest daughter, Penelope. She is to marry Mr. Ulysses Quartermain, as I’m sure you know. And you are already acquainted with her, Mr. Weston?”

“Tom and I are good friends, aren’t we, Tom?” Penelope intended to take the upper hand with Tom during the tea, so hopefully things would not get out of hand.

“Very good friends, Penelope, although I understand you have completely thrown me over for Yule now.” Grinning, Tom helped himself to a cup of tea, dropped in an amazing four lumps of sugar, gave the cup as quick stir, and sat promptly beside her on the sofa.

“That should be no surprise to you. When we met, I was hoping to become much better acquainted with Yule.” She grinned back at him. “As you may have heard, that has happened.”

“I do hear you should be wished happy. May I kiss the bride?” He waggled his eyebrows at her salaciously and Penelope laughed merrily at his antics. No woman could ever hope to tame this Quartermain cousin.

“On the cheek as a proper cousin should.” She presented it and he barely grazed it with his lips.

He eyed her boldly as he sipped his tea. “I suppose I shall have to hope for better things when you throw Yule over and marry me instead.” The vibrant energy that emanated from Tom was infectious. “I am confident I can bring you around eventually.”

“I would not hold my breath in anticipation of that, sir.” Penelope chuckled. She had to admit, Tom was fun to talk to and flirt with as long as she didn’t let it go too far.

“So you have no objection to becoming one of the Welwyn wager brides?” Tom held out his cup and Mama poured more tea into it.

“What is a wager bride?” Penelope frowned and cocked her head. She’d never heard of that term for a bride.

“You know, the wager all of us cousins are participating in.” Tom grabbed a finger-sized cucumber sandwich and ate it in one bite. “Yule told you about it, didn’t he?’

No, he hadn’t. And now Penelope had to wonder why. “I don’t remember what he said. Why don’t you tell me?”