Miss Winthorpe's Elopement by Christine Merrill Page A

your house.’
    Penny returned her cold smile. That had not been what she’d meant at all. It had been a slight on her wealth, followed by sarcasm. She was sure of it.
    But Adam ignored it, smiling as if nothing had been said, and Penny vowed to follow his example.
    Her husband gestured to his friends. ‘Penelope, may I present Lord John and Lady Barbara Minton, Sir James and Lady Catherine Preston and my oldest, and dearest, friend, Lord Timothy Colton, and his wife, the Lady Clarissa.’ He gestured to the cruel redhead and the man who had acknowledged Penny earlier. Adam smiled proudly at the man, and then looked to Penny. ‘You will get along well with Tim, I think, for he is also a scholar. Botany. Horticulture. Plants and such. No idea what he’s doing half the time. Quite beyond me. But I am sure it is very important.’ Adam waved his hand dismissively, and Tim laughed.
    Penny didn’t understand the reason for her husband’s pretended ignorance or the meaning of the joke. But clearly it was an old one, for the others found it most amusing. The room dissolved in mirth. It was like finding herself in a foreign land, where everyone spoke a language that she could not comprehend.
    When their laughter had subsided, Clarissa spokeagain. ‘And what shall we call you?’ The woman reached out to her, and took both her hands in what seemed to be a welcoming grip. Her fingers were ice cold.
    ‘I know,’ said Lady Barbara. ‘We could call you Pen. For Adam says you like to write. And you were a book printer’s daughter.’
    Lady Catherine rolled her eyes. ‘You write on paper, Bunny. Not in books.’
    Clarissa looked down at Penny with a venomous smile. ‘Surely not “Penny”, for you are not so bright as all that.’ There was a dangerous pause. ‘Your hair, silly. It is I who should be called Penny.’ She released Penny’s hands and touched a coppery curl, smiling past her to look at Adam.
    Penny watched, with a kind of distant fascination. Clarissa’s gesture had been blatant flirtation, and she seemed not to care who noticed it. Yet her husband, Timothy, paid it no attention. He seemed more interested in the books on the table before him than his wife’s behaviour to another man.
    Adam ignored it as well, avoiding Clarissa’s gaze while answering, ‘But it is not your name, is it, Clare? Penny was named for the loyal wife of Odysseus. And she is worth far more than copper.’
    There was an awkward pause.
    Clarissa responded, ‘So we assumed. We can hope that you are worth your weight in gold, Pen, for you will need to be to equal your husband’s spending.’
    And then they all laughed.
    One, two, three … Penny felt shame colouring her skin compounded by anger at Clarissa and her own husband, and the pack of jackals that he had allowed into her study to torment her. She wanted nothing more than to run from the room, but it would only have made the situation worse. So she forced a laugh as well.
    Her response would not have mattered, for now that she had wounded, Clarissa ignored her again and returned her attention to the duke. ‘Darling Adam, it is so good to see you back amongst us. It is never the same when you are not here. London is frightfully boring without you, is it not, Timothy?’
    Her own husband was looking at her with a sardonic twist to his smile. ‘Would that you found such pleasure in my company as you do in Adam’s, my darling.’ He turned to Adam. ‘But I missed you as well, old friend. Without you, times have been sober, as have I. We must put an end to that sorry condition as soon as possible. White’s? Boodle’s? Name your poison, as they say.’
    ‘White’s, I think. This evening?’
    ‘Of course.’
    Clarissa stamped her foot. ‘You will do nothing of the kind. I expect you to dine in this evening. With us.’ She made little effort to include her husband in her invitation. And none to include Penny, literally turning away to shut her out from the group.
    Adam eluded