Nina Coombs Pykare Read Free Page A

them.”
    Since Penelope had been one of those very people, vowing that she would never marry, Licia hastened to ask, “And what makes them change their minds so emphatically?”
    Penelope smiled again. “Love, of course. When you fall in love, everything changes.”
    Penelope’s usually pale cheeks took on a pinkish hue, and her plain face seemed to glow. Licia reached out to touch her cousin’s hand. “Do you mean that—”
    “What’s in this bottle?” Dezzie asked, thrusting a delicate cut-glass vial before Penelope’s eyes.
    “It’s a new scent Mama purchased for me. I don’t care for it.”
    Dezzie sighed dramatically. “I cannot understand these young women who don’t value the accoutrements of social life.”
    Her tone was so like Mama’s that Licia exchanged an amused glance with her cousin. But when Penelope raised an eyebrow and looked about to give way to laughter, Licia warned her with a slight shake of her head. Dezzie did not mimic Mama on purpose. The poor child did it quite without knowing it. And, if called to account, she would vehemently deny it.
    “So,” said Dezzie, absently fingering the bottle, “what sort of gentlemen are about in London?”
    “All sorts,” said Penelope.
    Dezzie frowned. “Just so they aren’t like Ravenworth. He’s so infernally sober.”
    Recalling the duke’s exact tone as he repeated the word muddy, Licia had hard work not to break into laughter. But she restrained herself. Dezzie, like Mama, had no appreciation of the more subtle forms of humor. And now was not the time to explain things. Besides, Dezzie had already taken a dislike to the duke. Bringing her to think more kindly of him would serve no good purpose.
    Dezzie picked up Penelope’s bonnet and set it on her curls. Standing there before the cheval glass, she turned this way and that, admiring her reflection. Then she put the bonnet back on a chair. “I shall know the gentleman for me. When I see him, I shall know him.”
    Penelope smiled. “I’ve no doubt of that, my dear. In the end, love is all.”
    “Love,” repeated Dezzie with a look of artificial rapture that almost broke Licia’s tenuous restraint on laughter.
    “I think,” she told her sister, “that your hair is becoming a bit untidy. Perhaps you’d better go ask Martha to have a look at it.”
    Dezzie’s hands flew to her curls. “Oh, yes. Right away. I’ll see you at dinner.” And out she scurried.
    Licia heaved a sigh of relief and turned to her cousin. “Now, my dear, what is all this stuff and nonsense about love?”
    Penelope smiled. There was something strange and misty about her eyes. “It’s true. Ravenworth taught me that.”
    “Ravenworth?” Why had her stomach taken this unaccountable desire to turn somersaults? It felt like a troupe of acrobats had taken up residence there.
    “You see,” Penelope continued, “our mamas meant us for each other.” She sighed. “Yes, I know it seems strange now. After all, I am no beauty.”
    “Perhaps not, but—”
    Penelope’s smile was golden. “Don’t, Cousin. I know I am plain. It no longer signifies. But you wanted to hear about Ravenworth . . . ”
    Licia was nodding before she quite realized it. “That is,” she amended, “I wish to hear more on this subject of love.”
    “Of course.” Penelope’s tone was suspiciously like that of the duke during his conversation with Mama, but her face gave no hint of amusement. “Well,” she went on, “our mamas meant us for each other. And the dear duchess treated me like a daughter. But David and I saw early on that it wouldn’t suit. We do care for each other, of course.”
    Licia experienced another riot in the vicinity of her stomach. The acrobats were executing all their routines at once.
    “But,” Penelope went on, “it is as brother and sister. We grew up together and we are very affectionate.”
    “Then I don’t see—”
    Penelope laced her fingers together. “It takes more than affection to make