Tempting Mr. Weatherstone: A Wallflower Wedding Novella (Originally Appeared in the E-Book Anthology FIVE GOLDEN RINGS) Read Free Page A

said with a slight bow, then went directly to the sideboard to pour a brandy. He murmured a perfunctory, “To your health,” before tipping it back in one swallow.
    She sipped her claret and smiled over the rim. “And what has you in such a fine temper?”
    He poured another finger of brandy and didn’t answer. By her amused expression and the way she always had her ear tuned to the servants’ gossip, he knew she already had the answer.
    “From what I gather, you won’t be the only one in a foul temper at dinner this evening.”
    “Not by my choosing,” he grumbled into his glass.
    His mother chuckled, tsking as she shook her head. “I’m not certain Penelope feels that way, or else she would not have put cream all over your scones.”
    The servants had a tendency to embellish facts. “She merely mixed the cream into my marmalade. The scones were still edible.” He finished his brandy, wishing his mood had improved after the second glass. Yet, as the clock struck the hour, he remained ever conscious of the fact that he and his mother were still the only two people in the study. “As for her temper, if she chooses to be angry because I laughed at her foolishness, then so be it.”
    His mother lowered her glass, and down with it went her amusement. “You didn’t.”
    “I did,” he said, trying not to sound like he was defending himself. “I would react the same way if she came to me tomorrow with her idea of hiring a coach to take her as far as she could go. The very idea. For her to do that would be the same thing as arranging for her own kidnapping. Angry or not, if nothing else, I’ve helped to save her from herself. ”
    “Oh dear.” His mother sighed. “I wondered when this would happen.”
    This was not the reaction he expected. Where was her alarm? Where was her outrage?
    “You wondered when Penelope would concoct a scheme to set about her own ruin, did you? Well, you might have warned me.” He scoffed and thought again of another brandy.
    “Ethan, you must remember that Penelope is a lot like you.”
    Like him? Hardly.
    He was about to correct her when she held up her hand. Not wanting another woman to storm out of the room, he politely bit his tongue.
    “She finds comfort in the things that remain the same day after day,” she continued, staring at him pointedly. “Yet she has also watched her younger sister discover love and happiness in a new life of her own making. Eugenia was young when she leapt into the unknown. She didn’t know what she risked leaving behind if her leap fell short. However, Penelope knows.”
    He was still waiting to see a shred of surprise, but instead all she did was make excuses for Pen’s lunacy.
    His mother drew in a deep breath. “Above all, she fears risk. She catalogs all that could possibly go wrong and whom she could hurt in the process. She also fears abandoning her father, not wanting him to feel as they all felt when her mother died so many years ago.”
    “Then there is no question,” Ethan said, releasing the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “The way she felt when her mother died—that fear of loss—is still very much a part of her.”
    Their mutual loss was what had drawn him to Penelope when they were younger. Somehow, she helped fill the void. He was only thirteen when he discovered he could talk to a ten-year-old girl about the most painful experience of his life. That pain wasn’t anything he would have ever wished on her, but it was an undeniable part of both their lives. And, as much as he hated to admit it, this was the first time he ever thought something good might come of it. Because if she feared leaving, then she would abandon her foolish idea.
    He hated to admit it, but this time, he was afraid she meant to go through with it.
    He looked down into his glass and willed the brandy to help restore his mood. Then he willed the knot in his stomach to unwind.
    “You may be right,” his mother said, all too