In for a Penny Read Online Free PDF Page A

was uncomfortable or not, she was sure she wanted more.
    When he raised his head and let go of her chin, she half expected him to smirk or look triumphant. But he only looked pleased and flushed; his blue eyes, when he opened them, sparkled a little. “And you like Arne’s arias.”
    Penelope liked Arne a great deal. She suspected she had liked the kiss a great deal too, but it was civil of him not to point that out. “Still, that is hardly a basis to be consideringmatrimony,” she said, as severely as she could when her pulse was racing and she knew she was blushing all over.
    The pleased light died out of his eyes; turning, he stared out the bow window. “I know it. But I’ve tried everything else.”
    She pitied him sincerely. “Have you no other way of making money? Surely you needn’t rush into a marriage that—that cannot be what you wish.” She looked away, conscious of her folly in fishing for a compliment when he would have had to be an idiot to contradict her. “I know it isn’t done, for a gentleman of your class to engage in business, but—I remember you told me that you thought it was clever, making money.”
    “Well, I am not particularly clever.” His crooked profile was bleak.
    She wanted—she hardly knew what, but to touch him, to comfort him.
    “And I need money right away, a great deal of it. I’ve sold off my mother’s favorite estate and my father’s guns. I’ve sold half the silver and most of the horses and all the jewels my mother hasn’t hidden under her mattress. I’m putting the town house up for sale tomorrow—but it won’t cover a tenth of the debts. I’ve sold everything I can think of, and it isn’t enough. The only thing I have left is myself.” His self-mocking smile was out of place on his boyish face. “I know it’s not a very good bargain.”
    She opened her mouth to tell him that she was very sorry, but it would be the height of imprudence even to consider, etc., etc.—and heard herself say, “All right then.”
    “You mean you’ll marry me?” He turned back to her, his face lighting up.
    Again her tongue moved without consultation with her brain. “Well—yes.” Even in the midst of her consternation, his smile was contagious; she found herself smiling foolishly back.
    “Oh, this is wonderful! Thank you!” With an effort he looked more grave. “I hope I am sensible of—you won’t regret it.”
    She regretted it already. Had she really consented? Had she lost her mind? Faintly she said, “Thank you, my lord.” She ought to back out—to tell him she’d made a mistake, that she hadn’t considered—but she knew she wouldn’t. Some part of her didn’t want to.
    She squared her shoulders. “I shall do my best to be a good wife to you, even if I’m not the wife of your choosing. I see no reason why two people of good sense and amiable dispositions should not find a tolerable measure of conjugal felicity, even if they are not, perhaps, united by those bonds of affection and familiarity which one might wish.”
    He looked a little bewildered by this speech, but he said, “Precisely my sentiments.”
    She was still caught in the grip of a sense of unreality. “You have already spoken to my father, I presume.”
    “Of course. He said he would let me ask you myself, but—to be honest, I don’t think he had any expectation of your agreeing.”
    Penelope’s eyes widened, the scene to come already clearly before her eyes. “Here—I shall undertake to make him keep his word, but perhaps you had better not talk it over with him now. I know speed is important to you, but can you come back tomorrow to arrange all the details?”
    His eyebrows rose, but he answered, “Certainly.”
    “Will eleven o’clock answer?”
    “Very well. He will agree, won’t he?”
    “I believe he will.” Privately, Penelope wasn’t sure. “Only—you’d better bring a statement of your debts with you. Have you got one?”
    He looked abruptly frustrated. “Not a