A Penny's Worth of Affection novel Chapter 37

"I will. Thank you. Have a safe journey, and I certainly hope you are successful in convincing the Marquess."

"May I write to you sometime? And if it's not too much of an inconvenience, I could pay you and your husband a visit?"

Oh no, Penny thought in dismay. That would be most disastrous indeed. She managed an uncertain murmur and made her excuses, hurrying away to find Mrs. Potter. She earnestly prayed Charlotte would not try to visit her.

Mrs. Potter took one look at her and began to ladle some soup from the steaming pot, then filled another plate with food with firm instructions to ensure that she finish it and get some rest. Penny smiled at the woman, who had taken to fussing over her like a mother hen, and followed Molly carrying the tray back upstairs.

She found Phillip sitting up in bed, feet on the floor, and he appeared to be glowering at the carpet, though he looked up the minute she entered with Molly.

"What do you think you are doing?" Penny demanded, scowling at him. "You should not try to get up, or you will fall ill again. Get back in that bed this instant."

He glared at her, making no move to do as she had ordered. "I am fine. Do not fuss."

Penny bit back a scathing retort, mindful of the maid watching them in fascination. She simply directed Molly to place the tray on a table close by the bed. She dismissed the girl and turned back to face Phillip, planting her hand on her hips.

"You were much easier to handle when you were unconscious." she muttered, handing him the plate of steaming soup, which he took and eyed sceptically, raising a brow at her.

"Soup?" he queried, even though his hands shook with the effort of holding the plate. Penny hastened to his aid, but he froze her with a glare.

She sighed and turned away from him, picking up her plate and began to eat. The foolish man was too proud for his own good. Fine, she would let him have his pride. Thankfully, he did not seem to remember their inappropriate moment three days ago. She watched him covertly from beneath the curtain of her lashes, watching as he slowly took a sip of the contents, grimacing at first, but to his credit, he slowly ate until the bowl was empty. She returned her attention to her food with a secret smile.

"Thank you, Penelope."

Her head jerked up, and she found him watching her. Already, he looked much better, to her relief.

"You would have done the same if I was the one ill."

He chuckled and lay back on the bed. "Do not be so certain. You seem so assured I have some redeeming qualities about me, but you are sadly mistaken."

A minute later, Georges appeared on the landing and raised an eyebrow in surprise at the look of impatience on his master's usually cheerful face. "You called, my lord?"

"Where the devil did you disappear to?" Henry asked, returning to the study to assume his position behind the gleaming, massive desk. "I asked you to hang around."

Georges bowed. "My apologies, my lord. Mrs. Middleton was having some trouble with the door to the larder. I went to offer assistance." The scowl lifted from Henry's face, and he nodded and retrieved the paper he had cast aside previously. "When was this delivered? And by whom?"

"Early this morn, my lord. I received the letter from a young lad, but he merely said it came in from the mail coach this morning."

"I see." Henry thought for a moment, a frown marring his features once more. "This is rather unexpected, but I cannot say I am surprised at all."

"Indeed, my lord?" Georges asked curiously, though his expression was carefully blank, as was expected in all competent butlers. He spared the letter a glance then returned his gaze to his employer.

Henry did not respond, merely forming a steeple with his long, lean fingertips and thought deeply for a few moments. His mind was working furiously on the matter at hand, and he knew what must be done to prevent the scandal that was already threatening to blow out of proportion. Damn Newbridge and his blasted stubbornness. If only he had listened to his advice.