EARLIER THAT DAY…
"You cannot be serious, mama!" came the incredulous cry, rising sharply through the quiet room.
The woman seated across the room did not immediately answer.
Lady Sophia Anderson merely lowered her teacup onto its saucer, her expression composed despite the anger burning in her daughter's eyes.
"I am entirely serious."
"Mother, he is sixty-three!"
"Sixty." Lady Sophia corrected calmly, as though the distinction were somehow worth making.
The red-haired woman stared at her, utterly dumbfounded.
"Sixty," she repeated, her voice rising with disbelief. "You expect me to marry a man who is sixty years old?"
"It makes it three years better, Penelope," Lady Sophia replied, though there was no humor in her voice.
Penelope's hands curled tightly at her sides. She was aware she couldn't do anything.
"Lord Bexley is wealthy," her mother continued. "He is titled, well connected, and perfectly capable of providing for you."
"I do not need him to provide for me."
She stated matter-of-factly, earning a look from her mother.
"You do."
"No, Mother," Penelope's voice hardened. "The family needs his money. There is a difference."
Lady Sophia's jaw tightened. "Our circumstances have changed."
"I am aware."
"Are you?"
The question came quietly, but there was something beneath it that made the woman look at her mother more closely.
Lady Sophia's fingers trembled faintly around the handle of her teacup before she set it down.
"Then tell me," Penelope said. "Tell me what has changed."
"I believe I already have,"
"No. You told me to marry Lord Bexley," Her voice rose. "You have not told me why you are willing to throw me at a man old enough to have watched Father grow up."
"Because your father's estate is drowning."
A deep silence followed as the words settled between them with a weight neither could ignore.
Lady Sophia looked away first. "We are not merely struggling, Penelope. We are losing ground with every passing month. The debts your father left behind have become heavier than we can bear, and the little income we still have is no longer enough to keep this household afloat."
She finally looked up at her daughter.
"The Anderson name cannot sustain what it once did," She said. "Lord Bexley can change that."
Penelope swallowed. As much as she hated to admit, her mother was right.
She looked away, unable to bear the truth.
Then Lady Sophia leaned forward. "If something does not change, we will lose the estate."
She went still.
The estate.
Her home. The only home she had ever known.
The place where she and her sister had grown up. Where their family had entertained half of London's nobility before their name became something people whispered about behind closed doors.
"You want me to marry Lord Bexley because he can save us," Penelope whispered slowly.
Lady Sophia sighed. "I want you to marry a man who can secure your future."
"My future?" She couldn't help but echo the absurdity of those words.
Lady Sophia said nothing.
Penelope gave a bitter laugh. "I will not marry Lord Bexley."
May the heavens forbid.
"Then find someone else."
Penelope blinked, taken aback. "What?"
"You heard me."
Lady Sophia rose from her chair, the composure she had worn throughout the conversation finally beginning to crack.
"Find someone else, Penelope. Someone wealthy. Someone respectable. Someone capable of taking your hand without dragging this family further into ruin," She said, her voice dropping. "Do so or embrace being the next Lady Bexley,"
***
SEVERAL HOURS LATER…
A lady of no less than twenty-nine, immediately dismounted her horse with a practised grace, offering a small pat to the animal. "Good job, Eloise,"
By the name, the white mare gave a soft nicker in response.
The red-haired immediately smoothed the folds of her gown. At the first step, she inhaled slowly, letting the crisp air fill her lungs.
Her red fiery hair caught the sun's golden rays, blazing like amber against the dark, sturdy trunk of the forest. Her porcelain skin seemed to glow in the dappled light, and each delicate feature—high cheekbones, a slender nose marred in freckles, and soft lips—was carved with exquisite precision.
She was a beauty to behold, but not in the way society admired.
Penelope Anderson let out a small sigh.
Her eyes fixed on the lake before her, where sunlight fractured across gentle waves. Something deep inside her thrummed with longing, and a smile touched her lips.
Her fingers found the silver pin securing her hair at the back of her head. With a gentle tug, she freed it, letting a few rebellious strands slip loose before the rest tumbled in a silky cascade over her shoulders.
Moving on to the next, Penelope reached for the lace at the back of her dress, gently tugging it until it came undone and supported the heavy bodice off her shoulders. Finally, it pooled heavily on the ground, and her undergarment followed immediately after.
Free from its weight, she drew in a slow breath of the afternoon's air.
Her fingers moved to the ribbons at her thighs, loosening the garters that held her silk stockings in place.
One by one, she rolled the delicate fabric down her legs, getting rid of a few other things as well—heavy jewelry, gloves, dance card—leaving her utterly bare.
Thankfully, she'd grown accustomed to taking off her dress without the help of her handmaidens. It would've been a hassle if she hadn't.
"So refreshing," She muttered to herself in relief. The melodic chirping of birds was a gentle reminder that the day was halfway gone, but Penelope was more engrossed by the beckoning of the gentle waves than the consequence of staying out late.
With a quiet resolve, she ventured to the cool earth beneath her feet, gesturing toward the lake's glimmering edge.
The moment Penelope stepped into the lake, a quiet gasp escaped her lips. The lake was colder than she expected under the bright sky, sending a chill rising swiftly along her ankles and calves.
For a moment, she simply stood there, listening to the quiet lapping of water, the whisper of reeds along the shore, and the steady rhythm of her own heartbeat until she gathered a little courage and ventured deeper.
"Mm," A refreshing sound escaped her lips like a dreamy flutter as she basked in its stimulating chill by closing her eyes.
One would notice the vague trail of anxiety behind the sudden ease in her expression.
As a Lady of status held in high regard, it was rare for such a public figure to embark on a scandalous journey to the outskirts of town, pursuing solace anywhere but her domain. But Penelope wasn't even to be considered a proper lady for one who had passed her prime and yet remained unmarried.
Securing suitors of the ton was like chasing after a diamond with an exaggerated worth but coping under the mechanisms of hungry mamas was like a needle puncturing one's skin.
And unfortunately, Penelope found herself fastened in both circumstances.
Beauty and art were the catch of the season. A woman must be beautiful to pass such traits to their offspring, and learn a skill such as the pianoforte to impress her husband. It was believed that when a lady is ripe for marriage and has both gifts, she's considered next in line, shipped off to ugly sons and pettiful dogs in the name of "charming men".
A Lady would then remain obedient animals to the fist of a gentleman, and breeders in the eyes of their husbands. While their dear spouses were free to have mistresses considered "normal" in the eyes of society, a Lady hid behind her garment, wearing a smile like shards of glass as she watched her life in the hands of another.
That was her biggest red flag in courtship.
For the past few years, Penelope had done everything uncultured and unlikely for a woman of her status. Men ogled her like a moth to flames during her prime.
Her beauty was ever mesmerizing, the finest attraction to suitors far older than her father. Yet during that time, the young miss discovered a technique that successfully worked for her in the end; avoiding balls, and soirees by pretending to be ill, until she passed her prime.
Of course, that didn't entirely give an advantage throughout the years, until a rumor found a way across town that she had been compromised.
In that society, a young lady's greatest asset was her "virtue" or "reputation". If gossip suggested she was ruined, most respectable men would avoid courting her because marrying her would damage their family's standing.
With that, Penelope was shifted off the mart of beguiling ladies and slumped to the lowest of all attention. From the diamond of the season, to the whispered cautionary tale of every drawing room.
And so it went on for years. As long as she remained unperturbed in the eyes of hungry men, Penelope didn't bother clearing the soil on her name.
But that didn't mean the Andersons were unaffected.
Her family's reputation went from valued to detoured instantly. The Andersons were known for their influence in Parliament and in commerce. Their estates were vast with alliances carefully woven, and their presence in any ballroom was enough to draw heads.
Much like great families whose fortunes seemed untouchable, the Andersons had stood among the pillars of society, respected, envied, and rarely challenged. And yet all it took was for one single incident, a whisper carried from one drawing room to the next, for admiration to turn cautious.
Invitations arrived less frequently. Conversations softened when they entered a room, and though their power remained, the shadow of that rumor followed them everywhere, leaving Penelope the center of every hushed exchange and knowing glance.
It was only that a few years back, Penelope would have cared less for a rumor than for a fraying thread on her gown. She would rather become a spinster than a helpless target in the hands of malicious gossip or the selfish whims of men.
But this season, there was no escape route. She was to wed a man who, by every rank and wealth, would be suitable to secure the future of her family's last fortune.
Penelope stared at the still waters of the lake, her reflection wavering beneath the gentle ripples.
A husband.
The very thing she had spent years avoiding. And now, whether she wanted one or not, she would have to find him.
What she did not yet know was that this Season would bring her far more than a suitable husband.
It would bring her a man who would make her question every rule she had ever lived by.