A Winter Wedding Read Online Free Page B

the guests in mind to drink.
    Penelope found the harried cook to give the impression she had some business below stairs. “My mistress, the Duchess of Marchford, requests tea to aid her digestion,” Penelope said to the cook. “I have brought her special blend.” Pen reached into her reticule and handed a pouch of tea to the cook.
    “Yes, miss,” said the cook without a second look at Penelope.
    Penelope busied herself with the teacups while watching the footman out of the corner of her eye. He filled two of the decanters but not the third. The only odd thing she noted was one bottle was labeled “Whiskey” and two were “Brandy.” Perhaps he was offering two types of brandy?
    He headed back upstairs with his tray. She decided to test his disposition and turned quickly to step out in front of him, causing him to nearly lose his balance.
    “Watch it, you careless, little…” He stopped short when he realized she was not a member of the kitchen staff, but the look of venom he bestowed upon her revealed that beneath the cheerful disposition beat a calculating heart. He knew just how much he could get away with. As a guest, he could not verbally berate her, but as a lowly companion, he could certainly attempt to make her feel her place with a demeaning look.
    “So sorry,” said Penelope.
    “I’m sure you are,” he said with all impudence. He turned and swaggered his way back up the stairs. He straightened his shoulders when he reached the ballroom door and entered the ballroom the very picture of poise. She watched him until her own tray became heavy, and she went in search of the dowager.
    The regal Duchess of Marchford was playing whist and, by the devious glint in her eye, winning most atrociously. Her partner, Lord Langley, was smiling in a genial sort of way. Penelope placed the tea beside the dowager, who glared at it as if Penelope had offered her hemlock.
    “And what is that?” asked the dowager.
    Penelope knew she would not be pleased, but she needed to keep up the act. Working with the duke for the better part of nine months had taught her as much. “Your tea, Your Grace. I know how you like tea in the evenings.”
    “At home.” The dowager’s voice was like ice.
    “Yes, of course,” said Penelope. “I will ask a footman to take away the tray.”
    “And Sir Gareth is speaking to the wrong chit. Fix it,” demanded the dowager with a wave of her hand. Marchford was not the only client of Madame X that evening, though Penelope was more inclined to offer actual help when it came to her other clients.
    Penelope followed the dowager’s line of sight and noted Sir Gareth speaking with a young lady, which unbeknownst to him was not the one she intended him to marry. Sir Gareth moved away from the object of his attention, presumably to acquire refreshments, and Penelope intercepted.
    “Good evening, Sir Gareth,” said Penelope. “I see you have made the acquaintance of Miss Reeves.”
    “Yes, charming girl.” He gave an interested smile.
    “Quite. I do not think I have ever seen a girl quite so beautiful. And so much admired. I do not envy her future husband.” Since Miss Reeves had the moral compass of a serpent, Penelope felt the interference was justified.
    “Why is that?” Sir Gareth was startled at the comment.
    “Why, with a bride as young and beautiful as she, one would always have the need to guard the roost.”
    “I see. Yes, you have a point.” From Gareth’s tone, it was clear her shaft had hit home. He had recently been appointed to an important post overseas and was facing extended trips abroad.
    “Ah, I see Lady Jane across the way. I have been looking for her, poor dear,” said Penelope, thinking quickly to set her plan in motion.
    “Has something happened to Janie?” Sir Gareth coughed and corrected himself. “Lady Jane.”
    Penelope smiled. Sir Gareth and Lady Jane had been friends since childhood. “It is not common knowledge, since she certainly does not wish for