The forest fell silent again.
Penelope stared at him. For several seconds, she could do nothing but stare.
The man's words hung between them, infuriatingly calm against the quiet of the forest.
I never claimed to be a gentleman.
Of course he had not. She had gathered as much.
A gentleman would have turned away. A gentleman would have understood the gravity of the situation. A gentleman would have possessed enough decency to spare a lady what little dignity remained to her.
This man, apparently, possessed none of those qualities.
"You should be ashamed of yourself," she said at last.
He tilted his head. "Should I?"
"You do not sound particularly remorseful."
"I am not."
Penelope's mouth fell open. How could anyone be this infuriating?
She folded her arms more tightly across herself, glaring at him from the safety of the water.
"You are an awful man," She confessed bitterly, glaring at him.
Instead of feeling offended, he seemed quite relaxed which aggravated her the most. "So I've been told,"
Her eyes narrowed. "And you find all of this amusing?"
"A little," he admitted.
That answer nearly pushed her over the edge.
Penelope looked toward the shore, where her clothes remained in an unfortunate heap beside his.
She needed to leave.
Immediately.
But the moment she imagined walking out of the lake with this man still watching, every ounce of courage abandoned her.
She glanced back at him. He was still there, leaning against the rock, entirely unbothered.
Heat bloomed across Penelope's face. It wasn't merely from humiliation, though there was certainly enough of that to set her aflame.
It burned with indignation, with outrage, and with something else she refused to name.
She turned away from him with an aggravated huff.
She needed a plan.
The lake was surrounded by trees, but the nearest path back to the estate was still some distance away. Her horse stood near the edge of the clearing, patiently grazing as though nothing unusual had occurred.
Eloise.
Penelope's gaze moved to the mare. Then to her clothes. Then back to the horse.
An awful realization settled over her.
She could not possibly ride home like this.
Her dress had become hopelessly tangled from the manner in which she had discarded it, and she doubted she could fasten the back properly without assistance.
Wonderful.
Absolutely wonderful.
She had fled the estate to escape the embarrassment of marriage only to find herself stranded naked in a lake with a complete stranger.
Perhaps the heavens were laughing at her.
"Are you planning to remain there all afternoon?"
Penelope's head snapped around.
"What?"
The man nodded toward the shore.
"You have been staring at your clothes for some time."
Penelope lifted her chin, attempting to summon what little dignity remained to her. "Well?" she snapped. "M-Must you continue standing there like a statue?"
His mouth curved, barely, for one to acknowledge as a smile. "I find it remarkable that you remain so spirited considering the circumstances," he said slowly.
"Spirited?" Penelope sputtered. "I am being seen, by someone who clearly lacks decency!"
"Yes," he replied mildly, clearly unbothered by her outburst. "You have mentioned it several times."
She glared at him with enough force to wither an oak. "Turn. Around."
The stranger sighed, though it sounded more amused than inconvenienced. "As you wish."
Thank goodness!
He straightened, taking all the time in the world. But to Penelope's utter horror, the man stepped forward and rose from the lake.
Water streamed down his figure as he climbed onto the rocks with the unhurried ease of someone entirely untroubled by the situation.
Penelope gasped and jerked her head sharply away. What-?!
Her face burned hotter than ever.
What—?! How—? Shameless creature! Finally, she had a mind of her own. A scandalous man! To move about so freely without so much as a warning—
Gods, she wanted to explode!
He might at least have said something! Penelope fumed internally. A cough! A word! A declaration that he intended to rise like some barbarian sea god!
Behind her, she could hear the quiet sound of water dripping onto stone as he stepped onto the shore and the rustle of fabric followed, but she refused the internal temptation to steal a glance.
Although from the corner of her eye—entirely against her will—Penelope caught a fleeting glimpse of him moving across the bank.
He was tall.
Extraordinarily tall, in fact. Even from the water she could see how his height commanded the space around him as he crossed toward the trees. With broad shoulders, long stride, and the careless confidence of someone accustomed to being obeyed.
Oh heavens.
Her stomach twisted, and she immediately looked away again.
Not in her most raucous dream did she ever imagine herself in such a position. Not for once did she think or reckon on a scandalous encounter such as this.
"You could look, if that is what you desire." His voice floated back toward her, stealing a small amount of her breath.
Penelope flushed violently.
Taking a deep breath to steady her tone despite the chaos of her beating heart, "I desire nothing more than your absence,"
A chuckle followed.
Penelope almost forgot how to breathe. How can a mere chuckle sound so… "How disappointing."
Another rustle of fabric suggested he had begun retrieving his clothes, and she shook away the sudden reverie.
After a moment he spoke again with a tone infuriatingly conversational that Penelope found unavoidable.
"You might consider dressing soon."
"And whose fault is it that I cannot?" she snapped.
There was an indefinite pause that followed before his voice broke the silence. "The dress," Penelope clenched her teeth when she heard him say. "It would require assistance for the laces, if I am not mistaken,"
"I am perfectly capable!"
Why would a gentleman speak of aiding her with her dress?! And of all things, that was the most dishonorable assistance she'd ever known.
She closed her eyes. This day was determined to humiliate her.
"Of course."
Another beat passed.
Penelope remained immovable as a rock, keeping a straight face as the rustle of clothes continued. She buried her body even deeper into the lake, so the water wrapped her neck.
"Though should you require assistance—"
"I would sooner drown myself in this lake."
His laughter this time was unmistakable, and for the nth time, Penelope's breath hitched. "I admire the conviction."
Penelope heard the sound of boots against the earth as he moved farther from the water, "Are you quite certain you would not prefer help fastening it?" He added lazily.
"I would prefer that you leave this forest entirely." She shot back.
"As you wish," he said, and something about his tone shifted slightly into becoming more serious. "You should probably know that your screaming can be heard from the path. If anyone is riding through the forest, they would have heard you."
Penelope's stomach sank.
He was right. Entirely, most-aggravatingly right.
If someone had heard her screaming, then they would have been alerted to proceed towards this part of the forest.
Oh heavens.
What have I done? She thought, cussing the mannerless coward of a man. Had he not announced his presence the way he did, perhaps, just perhaps I wouldn't have screamed that loud! And why on earth would a gentleman be found naked under a lake with an unmarried woman?! What honor was left of her then?
Penelope wanted to burst in sheer anger and embarrassment.
She glared fire and ice at the tree trunk she could find, wishing she could glare at the man with such propriety.
A long silence followed before she heard the faint jingle of harness and leather. A horse? Moments later came the unmistakable sound of hooves shifting on earth. "Have a good afternoon, Fiery," he said, and Penelope's breath caught.
Fiery?
She had not told him her name, but she doubted anyone in the ton was unaware of her identity. Although hearing such a name, made her speechless.
Before Penelope could demand an explanation,
"You might also consider that solitude is rarely guaranteed in forests," he said casually, guiding his horse. "…and perhaps next time, I'll be gentlemanly to turn around."
How dare he!
Hot fury blinded Penelope.
Before she could retort, galloping hooves thundered through the trees.
She swallowed her words.
For several long moments, Penelope did not move. She remained frozen in the water, listening carefully, waiting for the slightest hint that he might still be nearby. However, there was nothing but the soft lapping of the lake against the shore.
At last, she inhaled a slow breath, then another, and very cautiously, turned her head and was greeted by the sight of an empty bank.
A quiet sigh escaped her lips.
There was no stranger. No towering, infuriating man leaning against the rocks, but the quiet trees and the gentle afternoon light filtering through the branches.
Her horse, Eloise, stood exactly where she had left her, reins tied loosely to a low branch and tail flicking lazily at flies.
Penelope stared for a moment, and her gaze shifted towards the hoofprints in the dirt beside the water.
Another horse had been there.
The realization struck her with startling clarity. How carried away had I been? To storm through the forest in such a temper to undress… to march straight into the lake without noticing an entire horse standing nearby.
Heat bloomed across her face again. "Wonderful," she muttered.
Quickly rinsing the last traces of lake water from her skin, Penelope waded toward the shore.
The moment she reached land, the cool breeze brushed against her nudity, and she hurried toward her discarded garments.
First came her undergarments, which she slipped into with relief, and then she picked up her dress. But she stopped, staring back at the bodice that looked at her like a silent enemy.
The back laces dangled helplessly and Penelope groaned, recalling the words of the stranger, and the meaning that followed suit. "Of course."
The gown she had worn to Lady Hartwell's ball was one of the more elaborate pieces in her wardrobe, constructed with a fitted bodice that required at least two pairs of hands to fasten properly.
Hands she currently did not possess. Normally a maid would secure the laces with efficient ease. Here, however…
"Urgh!"
Penelope twisted her arms behind her back, attempting to reach the strings. The attempt lasted all of twenty seconds. Then thirty. Then a full minute of awkward twisting and tugging, but the laces barely moved.
She exhaled sharply and stomped her foot. "Wonderful," she repeated bitterly.
On ordinary days she visited the lake wearing something far simpler like a light muslin walking dress that could be slipped on without assistance.
Today, however, she had come directly from the ball. And now she was stranded in the forest wearing nothing but her undergarments and a half-laced monstrosity.