Cheryl Holt by Deeper than Desire Read Free Book Online Page B

as to the purity of the Hopkinses’ blood.
    If Helen’s existence was detected, what kinds of stories might circulate? What if Penny garnered a royal fiancé, and then news was disseminated that she had a crazed relative stashed away at home? Even though Penny and Helen weren’t blood kin, no one would wait to hear how distant their consanguinity before the betrothal was terminated, and Margaret wasn’t about to risk having Helen’s lunacy reflect badly on Penny.
    A knock sounded, and Penelope pranced in before Margaret could bid her enter. Penelope was aware of how much it irked Margaret when she demonstrated such shoddy manners, and a sharp rebuke was on the tip of her tongue, but Margaret tamped it down.
    Penelope was in the worst stages of adolescence. She flourished on mischief, and when given a command or scolding, she ignored every word. If someone made a suggestion as to how she should comport herself, she did the opposite of what was advised.
    Very likely, she’d intruded just to get a reaction from her mother.
    Margaret knew Penny’s game, and she wasn’t about to play it. Not when there were bigger fish to fry.
    Margaret’s greatest fear was that Penny would behave inappropriately around the manor, that she might draw attention to herself in a way that would be detrimental to Olivia. While customarily, Margaret couldn’t care less about Olivia, in this situation, deportment was paramount.
    Penny was spirited and vivacious, and others didn’t always comprehend how to interpret her conduct.
    Margaret felt as though she were walking a tightrope,which only served to increase her agonizing over their collective fates. She’d explained their quandary to Penny, and how imperative their trip to Salisbury, but Margaret couldn’t say too much more. The least comment would have Penny scampering off in the wrong direction.
    Penny had invariably been stubborn, but currently, she thrived on being contrary, and this sojourn was so important that Margaret couldn’t indulge her typical peevishness. So far, Penny had done naught but complain about how boring the estate was, and how she was desperate for some excitement. She’d been pleading to return to London in all haste.
    “Good morning, Margaret,” Penny said as she flounced in.
    “Penelope.” At the disrespectful form of address, Margaret nodded and silently gnashed her teeth. The discourteous salutation rankled, so Penny regularly used it instead of the boorish
mother
.
    “Why are you hiding in here? It’s ten-thirty.”
    “I was just coming down.” Margaret was irritated by Penny’s sniping. If she had been anyone else’s daughter, Margaret would have taken a switch to her.
    “There’s no need to hurry. The earl has eaten and departed.”
    “You had breakfast with Lord Salisbury?” Afraid that Penny might offend or antagonize him, Margaret didn’t want any cozy parlaying between them.
    “Yes.”
    “Was Olivia with you?”
    “No. I haven’t seen her.”
    Margaret’s blood boiled. Olivia had strict instructions to be stationed in the dining parlor before eight each morning so that she could greet the earl whenever he chose to show himself.
    Between Penny and Olivia, and their unbefitting attitudes,Margaret wondered if she would survive the next few weeks. Doubtless, she’d end up bald from tearing out her hair.
    She rose and marched to the door, when it occurred to her that Penny had donned her riding outfit.
    “Where do you think you’re going?” she questioned, though she already had her answer.
    “Riding,” Penny replied defiantly.
    “No you’re not.”
    “The earl said I could.”
    “You shouldn’t have put him in such a position, because you know I won’t allow it.”
    Penny’s hazel eyes flashed with ire. She shook her head, and her lush auburn tresses swished across her back. In an earlier century, a priest might have decried it as a witch’s mane, and Margaret often speculated as to whether the ancient priests’