The Lady Who Came in from the Cold by Grace Callaway Page B

forgiving me.”
    “Perhaps it isn’t his forgiveness you most need.”
    “I beg your pardon?”
    Marianne smoothed the skirts of her fawn silk carriage dress. Having learned to read others as a necessary part of survival, Penny interpreted the other’s gesture as preparation for saying something difficult. Marianne’s next words proved her intuition right.
    “I’ve done things that I’ve regretted—that many consider beyond the pale,” the blonde said steadily. “One could say that, in some ways, I’ve been where you are now. Given the wrong that I’d done, I didn’t believe I could win over a man as good and honorable as my husband.”
    She didn’t need to say more. It was a well-known fact amongst the ton that her daughter, Primrose, had been born out of wedlock, the product of a youthful indiscretion. When Ambrose Kent had wed Marianne, he’d also adopted Primrose, and the Kent family had taken the girl under their collective wing, making it clear that she was one of their own.
    “How did you? Win him over, I mean?” Penny said.
    “By forgiving myself. In truth, Ambrose helped me to realize that we all make mistakes, and, most importantly,”—Marianne’s eyes held hers—“true love forgives.”
    The words struck tinder, a painful flare within Penny’s chest. It took her a moment to recognize what she was feeling. The emotion was so at odds with her guilt and remorse that she hadn’t paid it any mind. But the smoldering ember was there, had been there for days if she was honest, and it was one of… resentment.
    True, she’d wronged Marcus and broken his trust. She deserved his anger… and yet didn’t she also deserve at least a chance to make amends? He’d vowed that they would never go to bed angry with one another, yet for six weeks now, she’d endured his wrath and, worse yet, sleepless nights in a cold and lonely bed. He wouldn’t listen to her, shut her out completely, and when she’d made that desperate attempt to connect with him, he’d dismissed her… like a whore.
    Because that’s what you are. And he doesn’t even know the ugliest part of it. Imagine how he’d despise you if he knew the full truth…
    Her hands balled in her lap, a vise of shame digging into her heart. She couldn't share these dark thoughts with friends—or with anyone, except for Flora. So, with skill borne out of practice, she pushed them into a mental box and locked them away until such time as she knew what to do with them. Which might prove to be never.
    For the time being, she had to soldier on. Focus on her plan. Showing Marcus that she was truly contrite and that she could be a wife worthy of him were her only hopes of winning him back.
    “I appreciate your concern.” Her gaze included all of her guests. “Truly, I am grateful for your visit, but I think it best to persevere with my plan. I’ll continue trying to please my husband, and that includes putting on the biggest crush the ton has ever seen.”
    Steeling herself against astute glances, Penny held her smile in place.
    After a moment, Marianne said quietly, “Then you must let us know how we may assist with the ball preparations.”
    Relief trickled through her that her friends wouldn’t push her on the issue.
    “I haven’t even made the guest list yet,” she admitted.
    “If you have a pen and parchment handy, I could jot down a list,” Emma volunteered. “Between all of us, we ought to know who’s in Town.”
    “We could make a list of anything else you need too,” Thea added.
    Penny could think of a few things.
    My husband’s forgiveness.
    His love.
    The marriage I once had.
    “Thank you. That sounds lovely,” she said and smiled to hide her aching heart.

Chapter Twelve
     
    As the carriage rolled to a stop in front of their townhouse, Marcus’ youngest son, indigo eyes wide and tone wheedling said, “Please Papa, can’t we go for a walk in the square before supper?”
    “We’re already dressed for the snow, and