Page 45 of Yule Be Mine

Yule walked in, his countenance grave as he nodded to her parents. “Mr. and Mrs. St. Claire, Charlotte…” His gaze went to Penelope and his brows shot up. “…and Penelope. I am more than happy to see you are here.”

“How fortuitous you have returned, Yule.” Mama beamed at him and patted the spot beside her. “Please have a seat. Mr. St. Claire was just about to send you a note asking you to return, as Penelope has had a change of heart. Haven’t you, my dear?”

“Yes, Mama.” Penelope glanced at Yule, then cast her gaze down demurely. “I do believe I was wrong not to give you a chance to explain the circumstances of this wager.”

“Thank goodness, Penelope.” Yule sat beside Mama, smiling broadly. “I had almost arrived home and suddenly thought, ‘I must make one more try to see her.’ I’m so glad I did.”

“We are so very glad also, Yule.” Mama patted his arm. “We were beginning to fear—” Mama frowned and drew her hand away. “What is this?” She held up a tiny piece of a greyish-looking stick.

Penelope gasped and Yule paled.

Papa leaned over to inspect the object. “I’d say that was a piece of the vine that covers the back wall of the house, my dear.” He turned a bland gaze on Yule. “Doesn’t it look like that to you, Ulysses?”

Yule opened his mouth, but no sound emerged.

Mama looked from Penelope’s red face to Yule’s white one. “Do you mean to tell me you climbed up the wall and…and entered the house without our knowledge…”

Penelope had to turn away from Mama’s painful scrutiny before the heat in her cheeks gave away the truth of the matter.

“Penelope!”

She jumped at the harsh tone of Mama’s voice. Oh, but this was not how she and Yule had planned for this meeting to go.

“Did he visit your bedchamber?” The sharp whisper conveyed all the horror of her mother’s question.

“Whether I did or not is totally irrelevant, Mrs. St. Claire.” Yule spoke up before Penelope could open her mouth to deny it. “As Penelope and I are getting married.”

Penelope glanced from one parent to the other, not liking the storm she saw brewing in their faces. “That is correct, Mama, Papa. The wedding is less than a week away.”

“If you insist, I could try to get a special license so we can be married immediately, but the Archbishop of Canterbury has been ill—so I’ve heard.” Yule seemed to have pulled himself back from the brink of disaster, his voice firm and authoritative. “But why don’t we simply continue on with the wedding plans for next week.” He looked at Mama and smiled. “That way no eyebrows will be raised over a hasty marriage.”

“Very well.” Mama folded her hands in her lap. “We will continue with the wedding plans for next week. However—” She turned to Papa. “I believe it is time to remove the ivy from the rear wall.” She peered at Yule, her lips pursed. “High time.”