Page 8 of Snowed In with the Runaway Bride

Pippa would never be allowed to marry. She would be tied to their mother for the rest of her life, always at her beck and call. Diminishing first into an old maid, and then into a poor relation, expected to give up her own hopes for a husband and family to suit their mother.

And the worst part was, Penny feared Pippa would accept it as nothing more than what she deserved. Pippa had changed during Penny’s recovery, and Penny could not break through to her twin to find out why.

She must not allow Pippa to be sacrificed for her comfort. Or their mother’s.

Pasting a smile on her face, Penny rose from the sofa. “Of course. I understand. It was only bridal nerves.”

“Are you certain? We still ought to have that talk about your wedding night.”

A gong sounded in the hallway, and Penny moved to the door. “There’s the dinner bell. We must go down.”

Frowning, Mama rose from the sofa and crossed to the door as Penny opened it. “Very well. But we will have our talk after dinner.”

“Of course,” Penny said, knowing she would do everything in her power to avoid it.

3

Penny was still piqued at Hugo’s high-handedness in forcing her to rest—no matter how much she had needed it—so she avoided him as she circulated through the drawing room, conversing and laughing with his relatives. It was a Christmastide party as it had always been: full of members of the Duke of Kendal’s family, both near and distant, with the Montgomerys there on sufferance as future members. Some were kind, some were standoffish, but they all seemed resigned to Penny becoming the next duchess.

She took a moment to converse with Kendal’s cousin Beatrice, a theater-mad girl of nearly twenty who was already planning the house party’s annual amateur theatricals.

“I have a wonderful idea for this year’s play,” Beatrice said with a sly grin. “You and Cousin Kendal will be most pleased.”

“Ah?” Penny said. The prickling at the back of her neck told her Hugo was looking her way. “I look forward to hearing all about it.”

The double doors to the drawing room opened and Teasdale stepped through, tall and dignified. The tight curls of his closely-cropped hair were turning gray, contrasting with his dark skin. He bowed deeply to the dowager duchess.

“Madam is served.”

The dowager nodded regally and gestured for one of the younger male cousins to push her Bath chair into the dining room, with the rest of the company falling in line behind them. Penny accepted Oliver’s arm and they promenaded to dinner in silence, followed by the chattering crowd.

Oliver seated her on his right side, then took his own seat at the head of the table, with the dowager duchess at the opposite end. She would be hostess for a few more days, and then Penny would take her place after the wedding.

Suppressing a shudder, Penny turned to the dinner partner on her right and discovered it was Hugo. She smiled a determined smile as the guests served themselves from the dishes already laid out on the table.

“What may I get you, Miss Montgomery?” Hugo asked.

She had rarely heard him be so formal with her, and she pulled back a little. “The roast capon, if you please, and some vegetables.” She pointed to a few more dishes and accepted the plate from him, setting it in front of herself as he assembled his own meal.

“They do this quite differently in Russia,” Hugo said. “The servants bring platters of each dish around the table and serve the guests individually.”

Penny lay down her fork to look at him quizzically. “Are we conversing now, Captain Dalston, or are we to continue to pretend to be mere acquaintances?”

If anyone could grin with only his eyes, it was Hugo, and he shook his head ruefully.

“I apologize, Penny. I have… had things on my mind.”

She nodded her forgiveness, and picked her fork up to take a few bites. “When do you report back to the Admiralty?"

"In early January. We hope to set sail by the 15th, if the weather holds."

"And when will you return to England?”

Hugo hesitated, and Penny realized how gauche her question had sounded. As though she expected him to dance attendance on her.

"I may be stationed in the Bermudas for as long as three years."

“The Bermudas?” She had so many questions—had he been there before, to which of the other islands of the Caribbean had he traveled—but then his words registered with her. She clutched at her fork as it tried to wobble in her hand. “Three years? So long?"