Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“Good God,” he said. “What have I unleashed?”
“Me.” She lifted his hand and kissed it. “I’m in control of my life and my body, and you can’t know what that means. I’m not sure I know what it means. But I’m all anticipation to find out.”
So am I, he thought. Bloody hell, so am I.
He stroked the hair back from her face, admiring her beauty when bathed in starlight. She seemed an entirely new woman.
She startled. “Bixby. We have to go home. He’ll be needing his walk.”
Well, then. Perhaps not an entirely new woman after all.
Chapter Seventeen
Several days later, Penny sat at Nicola’s kitchen table, staring at the fresh-off-the-presses copy of the weekly Prattler.
“I can’t look,” she said.
“Do you want me to read it?” Nicola reached for the newspaper.
“No.” Penny slapped her hand over it. “I’ll do it. When I’m ready.” She looked at her empty plate. “Are there any more biscuits?”
“Between you and Bixby, the kitchen is bare.”
“Oh. Did you have any plans of baking more?” Penny asked hopefully. “It might help.”
Everything seemed a bit easier to face with a plate of fresh biscuits.
She tapped her fingers on the newspaper’s front page. “I don’t know why this is so difficult. It’s not as though I can change the contents by waiting. What’s printed is printed. I am either a scandal or a spinster already, depending on what’s inside.”
“Actually,” Nicola mused, “while the paper remains closed, you’re both.”
“Both?”
“Right now, you’re both a scandal and a spinster.”
“I’m so sorry. I’m afraid I don’t follow you.” Penny frequently had difficulty following the twists and turns of Nicola’s mind. Everyone did.
Nicola’s eyes went unfocused, as though she were staring at the distant horizon. One that only she could see. “Imagine you took a cat,” she said slowly, “and sealed it in a box.”
“Seal a cat inside a box?” Penny was horrified. “I’d never do such a thing.”
“Of course you wouldn’t actually do it. I’m only trying to illustrate a philosophical conundrum.”
“What sort of philosophical conundrum requires a person to imagine suffocating cats? Surely there’s a better illustration.”
“You’re right. I’ll think of something else.” Nicola set aside her tinkering. “Penny, if there’s anything you need to talk about, I’m always here for you. I know I’m not as sympathetic and comforting as Emma or Alexandra.”
“Nic—”
“Don’t worry. I’m not disparaging myself. I simply know my talents, and that’s not one of them. However, I’m always here to listen. And when it comes to matters of the heart, I’m not completely inexperienced.”
“You’re . . . you’re not?” Penny stared at her friend, amazed. In all their years of friendship, Nicola had never, not once, mentioned a sweetheart or a suitor. Much less being in love.
With a shake of her head, Nicola picked up a gear and turned it over in her hands. “Men can be terribly distracting.”
A thousand questions crowded Penny’s mind, but before she could ask any of them, the clocks began to strike the hour. From all around the house, they were bombarded by chimes, cuckoos, pendulum strikes, and clanging bells.
Nicola owned a great many clocks. Or rather, Nicola’s father had owned a great many clocks, and Nicola couldn’t bring herself to part with a single one of them. Although the hourly mayhem had a way of interrupting conversation, Penny never complained. How could she? A woman who took in kittens by the dozen had little room to criticize.
Today, it could have been worse. The clocks didn’t go on too long this time, as the hour was merely three o’clock in the afternoon.
Goodness. Three o’clock in the afternoon? Penny had been sitting there for ages already.
No more dithering.
She reached for the copy of the Prattler, opened it to the society pages, and briefly squeezed her eyes shut. Strangely, she didn’t know what to wish for. Perhaps Nicola had the right of it, and Penny had been delaying this because she enjoyed being a wallflower and a temptress—and she resented that society wouldn’t let her be both.
The days since the masquerade had been the most thrilling days of her life. While she and Gabriel awaited the verdict, they’d made use of the time in a variety of passionate, and increasingly inventive, ways. It was as if all the clocks had stopped, and they’d carved out a secret haven free from prying eyes or consequence.
When she opened this newspaper, the clocks resumed ticking. Time had caught up with them, and one way or another, their stolen era of passion would come to an end.
Penny didn’t want it to end.
Nevertheless, she couldn’t avoid the reality any longer. If she didn’t read this for herself, she would hear everything from Aunt Caroline. Better to be prepared.
“Read it aloud,” Nicola said.
“‘A Report from the Maximus Club’s Spring Fete.’” She skimmed the contents, pulling out the most important words. “Southwark, pleasure garden, masquerade, orchestra, champagne . . . Ah. Here we are. Prominent guests in attendance.”