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

cryptically.
    He didn’t like the inevitable “but” that was sure to follow. The knot tightened further.
    “ However, there comes a time in everyone’s life when you have to make a choice.” She held her hands aloft like balancing scales. “You can choose a life of the sameness you hold dear, or you can charge blindly into the unknown, never knowing what may come of it but all the while hoping to find true happiness.”
    True happiness. Penelope was happy, wasn’t she? Essentially, she was free to do what she pleased. She went shopping and to parties. People thought highly of her, even cared for her. She didn’t have to worry about her father’s being alone in his house. Her sister was well provided for and, by all accounts, happy in her marriage.
    In addition, if Penelope were ever struck by a female inclination to nurture a baby, she could always visit Eugenia. While Ethan had never been struck with the desire to have his cravat crumpled or puked on, he knew that if he ever was, Edmund had children aplenty to see to the task. Truly, what else could she want?
    A T A QUARTER past the hour, James Rutledge and his daughter arrived for dinner. Rutledge graciously blamed their tardiness on his old bones, and Ethan kept his doubts to himself. Shortly thereafter, the usual dinner went off without a hitch. Well, almost.
    Apparently, his mother had forgotten Penelope’s aversion to asparagus. So before they entered the dining room, Ethan spoke secretly with Hinkley and asked if a hasty addition could be made. Perhaps a bowl of cook’s special pickled beets? He knew they were her particular favorite.
    After that, dinner proceeded smoothly. Penelope sat in her usual place to his left, fidgeting with the napkin across her lap. The soup course came and went with the usual compliments to their cook. And when the beets were brought to Pen, her lips curved in her usual smile of delight.
    The knot in his stomach was a mere memory now.
    “Superb wine, Rutledge,” he commented with a salute of his glass to the opposite end of the table. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d almost believe the lamb fed from this very vintage, with how well they complement each other. Wouldn’t you agree, Pen?”
    “I would,” she offered graciously though lacking his enthusiasm. Her attention seemed engaged on her plate, where she cut her potato in imprecise cubes.
    He felt his brow furrow as he watched her and wondered if she was brooding over their earlier argument. She was quieter than usual, or at least it seemed she was. Then again, perhaps he was looking too closely, the memory of his mother’s words lingering like smoke after an explosion. But why should it bother him if Pen chose to stew over his reactions?
    The more he thought about it, the more he wondered if all he could expect from her were these two words, or if he should draw her out further. Wondered if the return of his good humor was premature.
    “While my fondness for Minerva’s pickled beets is unparalleled,” she continued, oblivious to his momentary angst as she laid down her knife with care, “I must admit that her parsley potatoes are running a close second in my esteem.”
    Ethan felt his brow unfurrow, and the corner of his mouth hitched upward. Pen was back to her usual self after all.
    “I couldn’t agree more,” his mother added, dabbing her napkin to her lips, all evidence of potatoes gone from her plate. “They came from our garden in Surrey—Oh, how I look forward to returning. The country is so lovely this time of year.”
    Rutledge offered an easy grin that went well with his nature. “In three more days, you will have your wish. I daresay, there isn’t parcel of land in all of England as lovely as the rolling hills and thicket of trees that our neighboring properties share.”
    Ethan was looking forward to the trip, too, though he kept the sentiment to himself. He enjoyed the quiet of the country, particularly in the mornings, when he and Pen