Penelope went utterly still. Good heavens.
Realization swept over her in a mortifying wave. She did not stumble into danger, but stumbled into a private rendezvous.
Her face burned.
Of all the rooms in this vast estate, she had somehow chosen the one neighboring a hidden alcove occupied by two people who had clearly mistaken the masquerade for an opportunity of their own.
For one dreadful moment, Penelope did not know which was worse: that her carefully laid hopes for the evening had been ruined, or that fate had now placed her in earshot of a scandal she had no wish whatsoever to overhear.
She stood rigid, cloth still in hand, scarcely daring to breathe. And then, a floorboard creaked, much closer this time, which denoted where the noise originated—inside the room. It took her another horrifying moment to realize that someone else was there.
"Oh…" and she gasped, quickly turning away, obscuring herself from view. "Oh… yes! Heavens…n-no, yes! Yes! Oh…"
