A Penny's Worth of Affection novel Chapter 51

Perhaps she could fake her death? she wondered, idly stirring the contents of her plate. Surely that would distract the men from their foolish intentions. No, that would not work. Phillip would more likely rejoice over her demise, and she would never give him that pleasure.

She lifted her gaze to rest on her brother and his new wife. Edward looked troubled, though that did not seem to affect his appetite, as he kept shovelling spoonfuls of food into his jaw. Jane kept giving him sidelong looks as though trying to reassure herself of something. What on earth was she thinking? Penny wondered.

If she had to be honest with herself, could Phillip be blamed for wanting revenge? He had been amiable about the matter up until the moment his former fiancée had been found. His honour had been dragged through the mud, and the scandal this marriage was bound to stir up among the ton. Edward and Jane had better be prepared to be cut off and shunned. Lord Rosebury was only a viscount and as such had little to no influence in the upper echelons of polite society. Phillip alone had the right to reverse that rejection, and at the moment, that was next to impossibility.

Jane caught her eye and smiled tentatively, her eyes betraying the troubled thoughts that roiled within. Penny returned the smile and lowered her gaze back to her plate. Her own thoughts returned to the Duke and his challenge till her head ached from the maelstrom of worries crashing their way in her brain, and she felt flushed and weary. She sighed and pushed away her plate, the action drawing the attention of everyone.

Her father glanced down at her untouched meal in disapproval. "You should eat more, daughter. You look malnourished. Do you even eat at all?"

She grimaced and rose, setting her napkin down. "Of course, I do, Papa. I just do not have an appetite tonight. I wish to retire early if I may?" Edward shot her a sharp look. "Are you all right, Penny? You seem so pale."

Penny gripped the edge of her seat as a sudden bout of dizziness and nausea swept over her. Her limbs felt heavy and slow as though they were not hers, and she realized she needed to get some rest. The past few days had been fraught with too much anxiety and excitement, and now it was beginning to take its toll on her. A good night's sleep was what was needed.

She bit her lip and nodded, aware of her father's worried look resting on her. "I am all right, just very tired and sleepy, nothing a good night's rest cannot cure."

"Shall I order a fresh pot of tea?" Jane offered, attempting to rise, but Penny beckoned her to remain seated.

"No, please do not exert yourself. I don't want any tea."

Edward still looked worried, but he shrugged at her last words. "Then, by all means, do go and rest, but be sure to ask if you need anything. We will be close by."

***

Phillip downed his fifth glass of scotch, staring into the flames blazing in the grate. He twisted the empty glass in the fingers of one hand, the other tracing lines on his cheek. Even though the imprint had faded, he could still feel her touch as though it had been burned into his skin, an indelible mark upon him. His mouth twisted in a wry smile. The woman certainly dealt a powerful blow, he was forced to acknowledge, and of course, he had it coming.

Her words, however, haunted him. "You sicken me..." he repeated, eyes darkening as he recalled the look of contempt she had levelled at him while those cold words had dropped from her admittedly luscious and kissable mouth.

"You sicken me, Newbridge..." he repeated once more, the words dripping with distaste and filling the quiet room broken only by the merry crackling of the fire. "You sicken me..."

He scowled and hurled the glass at the stone mantel piece, satisfaction flowing through him as the crystal shattered into tiny pieces. Damn the woman for irking him so, to kiss him so passionately at first, and in less than twenty-four hours, denounce his touch. He had a good mind to find her and resume where they had left off. Let her dare say he sickened her then. Just thinking about how soft she had felt in his arms made him rock hard, but the devil take it; he could not afford to dally with the sister of his current mortal enemy; desire be damned. He could find himself another suitable wife and an even more suitable mistress among the women whose lives revolved around overheated drawing rooms and evening dresses-certainly not Penelope Inglewood.